I was walking home tonight from the train station (10 minutes away from my flat, in an area I moved to a couple of weeks ago). I was already feeling jumpy because a man had catcalled me from his car as I was crossing the road – although he hadn’t said anything offensive, it was still unpleasant, especially when I was on my own at night. As I started to question whether I was safe walking home, a man walked deliberately towards me, staring at me. He came up as if to block my way, and when I obviously looked frightened, he looked at me and laughed as if it was all a big joke. I walked the rest of the way home with jelly legs and cried when I got into my flat. I feel incredibly lucky that nothing worse happened, but also angry. Angry that something so small could make me feel so unsafe; angry that, as a trauma survivor, this has put me back a few steps from the really good progress I was making; angry that my first thought was “is it because I’m wearing shorts and my legs are bare?”; angry that this happens every day to so many women and is so rarely taken seriously.
