Politics of power and life

Walking home alone as a woman is an experience that changes depending on the time of day. It’s not just the physical act of walking; it’s the mental and emotional toll that comes with constantly assessing your surroundings. Whether it’s the broad daylight, the evening, or the dark of night, each walk feels different. 

Midday Walk: Unexpected Threats

One afternoon, I was walking home from the gym, my body exhausted, and I was certainly not in the position to exert myself any more than I already had. It was around midday, the streets were busy – people were out running errands, grabbing lunch, or rushing back to work. You’d think walking during the day would feel safe. After all, the streets are filled with people, and daylight should offer a sense of security. But I soon realised that broad daylight doesn’t always protect you.

As I walked, I noticed a man trailing behind me. He was stumbling noticeably, clearly drunk. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but as the blocks passed, he seemed to get closer. Then, he started mumbling under his breath, and it didn’t take long before he shouted something at me. I kept walking, trying to ignore him, but the anxiety began to rise in my chest.

He called out, “Darling, got a lighter?” His voice was slurred, and I quickly said, “No, sorry” hoping he’d leave me alone, but instead, he started following me even closer. The pace quickened, and I could feel him getting nearer. Panic set in as I realised he wasn’t just walking behind me anymore – he was chasing me. My heart raced, and I picked up the pace. The street was crowded, but still, his presence made me feel vulnerable and unsafe. I had to change direction, taking the longer route home for safety, hoping that by the time I looked back, he’d be long gone.

The Night: The Politics of Fear

When the sun sets, the rules change. The streets empty, the quiet deepens, and with it, a new sense of danger. Women don’t just walk home at night- we plan, we strategise, we adapt. We’re forced to constantly negotiate our freedom against the threat of harm.

It’s at night that the fear feels more real. We check our surroundings more frequently, our phones more tightly gripped. A quick glance over our shoulder isn’t paranoia; it’s self-preservation. We walk with one earbud in, while our other ear stays alert. We cross streets when we see someone sketchy ahead, not because we’re “overreacting,” but because our survival instinct kicks in. It’s political because this is the reality of living in a world where our safety is constantly compromised.

And it’s not just about the moment we cross paths with someone who might have harmful intentions. It’s about the fact that our autonomy is questioned by the very need to plan every route, to always be on high alert. Women don’t get to just walk. We have to think about how we walk, who we’re walking near, and where we’re going. We make sure someone knows our location, text a friend when we’re heading out, and when we are home, and sometimes even call someone just to have a “witness” to our walk home. Why? Because the reality is that women are at risk, and the consequences of that risk are never just personal – they are political.

Why This Is Political

The reason this matters politically is because it isn’t just about “bad experiences” or individual actions. It’s about the system that allows these experiences to continue unchecked. The problem isn’t isolated incidents; it’s the wider culture of entitlement that underpins street harassment and violence. It’s the lack of meaningful action to address the violence women face in public spaces. It’s the fact that women are still expected to “take precautions” rather than society taking responsibility for making public spaces safe for everyone.

The expectation that women should “just be careful” isn’t a solution – it’s a deflection. It places the burden on women to navigate a system that fails to recognise the structural barriers they face. Women aren’t paranoid; they’re reacting to a world where violence against them is a routine part of the societal norms. 

Until society recognises that walking home is a fundamental right for everyone, and until the systemic forces that fuel harassment and violence are dismantled, we will continue to adjust our behaviours, check our surroundings, and adjust our paths. The fact that we have to make these adjustments is political and it speaks to a world where women are not free to simply exist in public spaces without fear.