When my grandmother visited me, we went to a restaurant.
As I was tired and wanted to go, she jumped.
“You are not going home alone, are you?”
It was a Sunday evening, 10 o’clock.
I am lucky. I am one of those 3 out of 4 girls that has not been raped.
Isn’t there something wrong with that statement? I said I am lucky.
Not being raped should not be considered luck. It should simply be normal.
That doesn’t mean I am not scared.
I don’t like walking home alone when it’s dark.
I don’t feel comfortable entering a place solely populated by male strangers.
I panic when I think someone is following me.
Every girl has been taught how to behave.
Don’t wear something that might attract attention.
Don’t get drunk.
Don’t leave your drink unattended.
Don’t take any risk.
I wonder what we teach our boys.
One in four girls has been raped, statistics say.
Every girl has been sexually harassed. That is what I have to add.
I once read a sentence about consent:
“Consent is not the absence of no;
consent is an enthusiastic yes.”
Nothing happened when I walked home that night.
That doesn’t mean I stop being scared.
How can I feel save if I know friends who have been raped?
“There’s a time when the machine becomes so odious,
makes you so sick at heart,
that you can’t take part,
you can’t even passively take part,
and you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels
upon the levers,
upon all the apparatus and you’ve got to make it stop.”
Wretches and Kings, Linkin Park, 2010