By Maya Cruz '23
The month of March is dedicated to honoring all that women have contributed to this world, what it means to be a woman, and what it is hoped being a woman will mean. It has been dedicated to highlight women and show respect (although the respect should really be given all twelve months of the year). However, as a young woman, this time has brought my own experiences and pain to light.
During isolation caused by the pandemic, I've had more time and mental space to reflect on my own identity. Early in quarantine, I did a lot of thinking about toxic masculinity, sexism, and double standards. I realized that I had succumbed, even contributed, to the oppression of the minorities I identify with unknowingly. This, of course, includes being a woman.
What rekindled my remembrance of these reflections more recently was the death of Sarah Everard. On the night of March 3rd, Sarah was walking home. She chose to walk the longer route, taking well-lit walkways, even calling her boyfriend to check-in. They had plans to meet up in the following days, but she never showed up. She never even got home. Her corpse was found in the Kent Woodlands.
Sarah's murder sparked a movement, inciting protests all over Britain and amplifying the conversation about the oppression women face. I am grateful to hear voices and see support on social media in honor of women's history month, but Sarah's death ripped something inside me. Hearing her story and seeing the man's face left me paralyzed with despair.
Women being targeted is not new. What I didn't know, however, is just how prevalent this issue is. UN Women UK surveyed the experience of over 1,000 women that has gained a lot of media attention. Their findings said that every 10 minutes, an adolescent girl somewhere in the world dies due to violence. Only 3% of women aged 18-24 said they had not experienced any form of sexual harassment. According to a YouGov survey analysis published in March of 2019, six in ten women said they regularly take precautions to avoid sexual assault.
I ignorantly thought that being catcalled and followed was just a "growing up in New York City" thing. I always tried to push away the worry that something about me draws too much attention. That the comments, nods, whistles, and following for blocks were my fault. I've been yelled at and had things thrown at me. The worst part is that it is entirely normalized. I've gotten used to the frequent harassment. It's never discussed much with my friends, but I know enough girls who can relate. The reason I have come to for the lack of discussion is that it's just an expected part about being a woman, like never talking or complaining about periods. It's just part of what we have to deal with and not talk about. And, in my experience, it seems like guys don't want to hear it. I know that speaking up about the oppression of being a woman around my guy friends just leads to scoffs, feeling like a burden, or a change of subject.
Sexual harassment, assault, and murder do not only happen to women. Anyone can be targeted or taken advantage of. However, with women, it is more pressing an issue. I'm sure that the majority of girls have heard comments from their parents like "that skirt's too short," "walk home with a friend," "watch your drink," "ignore them.” They're all comments that represent care and safety concerns, but I feel that they are accepting of the problem. I constantly turn around, torn between keeping my head down to draw less attention or up and super alert. I fake a call or sometimes actually make one. This innate response many women get at night is acceptance of the problem.
I don't think I'm over sensitive to feel so upset, even though some men might. I believe that many men genuinely just don't know the constant struggles of being a woman and all the extra things we have to think about. As you have partially seen the struggles of sexism through my eyes and heard Sarah Everard's story, I hope you will close this article and reflect to figure out how you can do better. We can all do better.
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