A short blog about what it is like being in the essence and body of a woman and the everyday dangers that befall us.
Sigh.
So.
I live in one of the safest cosmopolitan cities in The Philippines. People automatically assume I am rich judging from my zip code, but I’m just really lucky. And while it is true that I can find a bigger place if I move elsewhere … why the hell would I do that?
I “sacrifice” more space for the convenience of where I live. I also pay more for the feeling of safety that is generally felt by the people living and working in my community. There are only two cities where I can dress the way I want, sometimes bra-less and all, my area being one of them. Any moment I have to take the train or find myself in other parts of Manila, I choose to look as simple and covered up as I possibly can. The goal is to avoid attention. To blend in with the crowd. My safety is my primary objective.
The fact I have to do this in 2024 is a sad reality which I get to avoid by living in my tiny bubble, which I do not take for granted.
I’ve already written about my experiences with assault here and here, so I am not going to go back into those moments in this post, but rather talk about how despite living in one of the best neighbourhoods in my country, it is still always good to watch my own back.
It was late last year when I was out for my morning walk. I originally went at the 6-8am time frame to smell the fresh air and bask in the morning sun. But as the jogging path had suddenly become more and more populated, I felt more and more suffocated. So I had two choices: go earlier at 5am (heck, I’m awake anyway) or much later at 10am. So I tried out the 5am schedule only to feel scared shitless the entire time. You have to understand, once you experience assault, the memory of it still lives within the cells of your body no matter how safe you perceive yourself to be.
Notably, it was dawn with very little light and I was one of the very few people on the path, most of them men. Most of them, blue collar workers.
And while some of you may cry foul, pointing a finger at my ignorance or discrimination, it’s also another story when you are 5 foot 2 and a lone woman “against” a whole bunch of sturdy men who come from various backgrounds. Trauma tells us to be wary. Instinct tells us to keep our eyes peeled. To think of a possible escape route. To how far away the next available person is if we needed to scream for help.
These are the thoughts that race in a woman’s mind be it a walk home or a morning run. And so with the 5am experiment having failed miserably, I chose the 10am timeframe — hot as hell, but the path clear of people which makes me exuberantly happy.
So there I was on that bright December day… birds singing, tree branches swaying, leaves falling…I was happily humming to myself when I felt a presence extremely close to me. You can tell when people walk behind you, and you can also tell when people are extremely close behind you. Now remember, this is the peaceful timeframe. Hardly anyone walks at this hour due to the extreme heat and everyone else’s distaste of getting a tan so there shouldn’t be any reason for anyone to be walking so closely behind me.
I was aware of a security camera near the spot I was on but if anything, all it would ever do would be to identify a possible suspect, not actually save me from a crime that might be committed. I chose to walk on, pretending everything was normal as not to arouse suspicion that could make one react more violently than intended.
And then a whisper so close to my ear that I could feel his breath: “Good morning.”
And with that, a guy walked past me and hurried away. I continued to walk but much slower until he was a good distance away and only then did I quickly make a u-turn and rush myself into the crowded street. For once I found solace in being in a mob of noisy ass people.
There’s a way to say good morning to a lady without her fearing for her life. Fucking hell. What does it take to have a peaceful walk with a vagina in between your legs? Ugh.
Since then I have had other strange occurrences, but nothing police worthy — thank God. But yes I’ve had to make detours. Yes I’ve had to walk slower. Yes I’ve had to also start jogging even if I don’t jog. As I used a man walking his big dog as a shield from three guys just innocently hanging out by a bench a few weeks ago, it got me wondering if being a man feels safer. I’m not only asking if it is safer, but if it feels safer.
A recent conversation I had with a client was about the age old victim blaming narrative where we are the ones enticing our perpetrators with our behavior and choice of attire. That we live with zero shame and are easy. So please assault us. We are clearly asking for it.
note: for idiots reading this, i was clearly being sarcastic. please keep your pants zipped and let your god keep you from committing sin.
Now. There are plenty of other articles, podcasts, talks etc. that discuss in full length with the academic, cultural and historical accuracy that I do not possess to explain why men continue to behave in a certain way, that even if most men don’t engage in this behavior, some men do it enough to scare women for life.
Again. Let me reiterate that I have not been assaulted in years. I live in a generally safe place where I feel 99% free to be who I am, wear what I want, and flaunt my body cuz I got it.
But it does make me wonder about the rest of the Philippines who do not have the peace of mind that I do. The rest of the Philippines who have to learn to be street smart at a young age in order to survive. The rest of the Philippines where it’s sometimes better to just stay quiet, cuz what a waste of time, money and energy to be otherwise.
It’s 2024. But is it really?
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