Last week a colleague directly asked me for views about the Sarah Everard case and the debate it’s sparked on women’s safety. They were trying to work out how to speak to their children about it. I gave my immediate response, but it’s been on my mind since and I compiled this blog last weekend to process those thoughts. My conclusion is that everyone has a role to play in how we move forward constructively.

For those outside the UK, Sarah Everard was a 33 year old marketing professional who was abducted whilst walking home after 9pm on 3rd March and subsequently murdered. It’s sparked a lot of debate and story sharing about the experience of women. It’s also sparked protests because of the strength of feeling. It’s further complicated as the person arrested and charged is a police officer.

I’d actually been avoiding the debate or even reading the news much lately. It’s one of my resilience strategies when I’m particularly busy, and work has been very busy lately. You may find other people who have done the same, so bear in mind they might be protecting themselves before you jump to any conclusions. But since I was asked about it, I’ve found I have a lot of thoughts.

One of my first thoughts was a reflection on comments people were making around the horror of this being a police officer. I agree that is it awful. It made me think of BLM and wonder how much this sudden experience for white women is the same experience we’ve been hearing about from the BLM movement when it comes to distrust with law enforcement – suddenly, our understanding is coming from a much more visceral place. It also made me very sympathetic to all the police who want to do good and serve the public, who put themselves in harm’s way every day and have been striving to build up public trust for the exact reason just mentioned. If I worked for the police right now, I would be so upset and frustrated with the damage this case is doing to public trust.

When my colleague asked about my thoughts, I saw the impact of the case on the gender debate in a number of ways. In one sense, it is an important issue to open up and have women share stories about their lived experience. I know it’s been eye-opening for a lot of men. In another sense, it risks being divisive and damaging in making men feel universally judged for the actions of a few. To my mind, this can’t be a men vs women debate. That won’t solve the problem, and it excludes a solution that covers other gender diversity.

At the time of our discussion, my thoughts focused on the problem of societal expectations around masculinity and what it is to be a man. Pressure to conform can turn people from troubled individuals to offenders breaking the law. In this debate over safety, I see attitudes to sex as a big problem. It’s a societal norm to describe sex for men in terms of conquests: men should want sex; men must make the running; men should instigate; men should know what they’re about; and men should never be nervous. That seems like a lot of weight to carry.

I’ve never had the opportunity to listen to a genuinely private conversation amongst men, where they aren’t conscious of being overheard by women, for obvious reasons. Media portrayals would have me believe they compete and mock each other over rejection rather than being supportive. I hope that isn’t true. We’ve got a whole movement in feminism about how women should be empowered to be bold, but we’re awful at teaching men that it’s okay to show emotional vulnerability or any sort of uncertainty.

The result is a culture where some people face a perfect storm of pressure and maladjustment that create a would-be offender. Their degree of offence can sit anywhere on a spectrum from cat-calls through to murder. The problem for women is that when a man cat-calls in the street, they don’t know if he’s an idiot or one of the ticking time-bombs, and they don’t know how far it’ll escalate. The result is fear.

I should disclaim that I don’t know if any of this will apply in the specific case that triggered this debate, but I think it’s very relevant to a lot of cases. Particularly these days, when the internet lets everyone get into each other’s business and each person is trying to present only their best self online.

For myself, I admitted to my colleague that I’m perceived to have a somewhat reckless disregard for my own personal safety. Back at University, I walked home from my college to my flat alone at 4am after late nights in the IT suite when my computer broke. Before COVID19, if I’d gotten the last train home, I’d walk from the station to my house as the hour ticked past midnight.

I am not unafraid when I walk in the dark, so I challenged myself on why I take the risk and I had to conclude it’s two things. One is a trade off: if I call a taxi to pick me up, I’d often have to wait around at the train station near drunken men who might make inappropriate comments and advances. Safer to leg it into the dark, because drunk people aren’t put off by CCTV. Equally, there’s always a bit of uncertainty with taxis: when you get in, you can’t completely guarantee you’ll end up where you want to go, be charged the right fare and/or be let out promptly. The likes of Uber has helped with that, though there are obviously exceptions there too.

The second reason I walk in the dark is a point of principle. There are no monsters from myth or legend in the dark, nor wild animals. There are humans. It should not be unsafe to walk home in the dark. Just as it should not be unsafe to board a plane, go to a concert or use public transport. I don’t want fear to shrink my world, particularly when daylight is so short in winter months.

So here’s my perspective: cases like Sarah’s should not have to be avoided by requiring all women to book taxis to go anywhere after dark. It should simply be safe to walk home. I know it’s not as easy as ‘should’ and that you and I can’t fix that by ourselves, but we can all contribute to the solution. I believe it starts with proactive challenge around language to create the right culture.

An excellent panel spoke recently about the issue of whether you are passive or proactive as an ally. It’s the idea you need to proactively speak up in the moment when someone says something that’s not appropriate, not passively acknowledge it in retrospect.

All gender identities deserve to be addressed with respect, even when they aren’t present to hear it. The same goes for ethnic or class-related identities, etc. etc. If we are all more willing to constructively challenge the language we use, and the social norms we evoke, we create a more supportive community where walking home becomes safer for everyone permanently. I want that solution, rather than needing to teach teenage boys to cross the street in order for women to feel safe. I don’t want to be part of sending out a message to any young man that says ‘I think you could be a monster’ – I am worried that when we do, we create self-fulfilling prophecies. Instead, I want to say, ‘I think you can be an ally, and I want to be your ally in return. If we do that, we will all benefit.’

I’m going to finish here for now, though this topic is so big I feel like I’ve barely touched the tip of the iceberg. If you have strong thoughts and want to discuss, please do reach out.

As always, thank you for reading.