Women never walk alone
Once upon a time, I banned candy canes from our house. My small daughter had an uncanny knack of fashioning weapons out of almost anything, and peppermint-flavoured lollies were no exception. She’d suck the end of the canes into a deadly sharp point which she’d stick her brothers with, and then eat the evidence.
I also banned poi, rulers, skipping ropes and anything else she could arm herself with until the phase passed. Then, a few years later, I showed her how to make a weapon again.
If you’ve never formed key knuckles, chances are you’re a bloke. I’m not sure who taught me about making the weapon, created by forming a fist so your keys protrude through your fingers. It’s just one of those skills women absorb from each other. My daughter was the same; she already knew, and had been doing it long before I tried to show her how.
The murder of British woman Sarah Everard has highlighted the dangers women face as we go about what should be the innocuous business of walking on our own at night.
Everard disappeared after leaving a friend’s South London house about 9.30pm to walk home, a trip that should have taken about 50 minutes. London police officer Wayne Couzens has been charged with the 33-year-old’s murder and kidnapping, and the crime has sparked an international outcry about the abuse and danger faced by women who dare to walk alone.
On social media, key knuckles have become symbolic of that, as have all the other precautions we use, like not listening to music, so we can hear someone approaching, and the fake phone calls we make to look like we’ve got backup.
The techniques we employ to try and keep ourselves safe are such an intrinsic part of being a woman that we’ve accepted them as part of our personal responsibility. Everard did exactly what we’ve all been taught: she wore bright clothing and running shoes, stuck to well-lit routes and called her boyfriend. It wasn’t enough.
Much like the #MeToo movement that began in 2017 when women flooded social media recounting their experiences of sexual assault and harassment, Everard’s murder has prompted an outpouring of unity and rage. Tens of thousands of women are sharing what it’s like to be female and walk alone, and are demanding the safety to do so. UK Green Party member Jenny Jones even called for a 6pm curfew for men, which isn’t the worst idea, expect we’re not safe in our homes either, as New Zealand’s shocking rates of domestic violence prove.
Unprovoked murders involving strangers are rare in Aotearoa. According to Ministry of Justice statistics from 2013, the percentage of adults who were victims of a sexual offence by a stranger had fallen from 1.6 per cent to 0.9 per cent.
Regardless, Everard’s murder is at the worst end of a spectrum of violence women traverse every time we walk alone. Wolf whistles, catcalls, large groups of rowdy men refusing to move from the footpath to allow us past are just a few examples of the behaviour that’s made night-time perilous for women.
The Take Back The Night movement began in the 1970s, with marches in response to a spate of violent crimes against women. Then, women walked through dark streets holding candles. Fifty years later, their daughters and granddaughters are still holding knuckle keys.
We never took back the night because it was never ours in the first place. It’s now up to men to hand it over.