Was She Asking For It?

I have gone to a lot of gigs in the past two months. I wore a short skirt to two of those gigs. Both times I got harrassed by people on the way home - the first time, I was followed home by someone who tried to assault me [luckily he didn't reckon on my ability to yell and swear very loudly and repeatedly at the top of my voice], and the second time, this week in fact, some creep followed me around the Elephant and Castle tube station.

I take extreme offence to this. I wasn't dressed provocatively - short skirt yes, but worn with opaque tights, and a jumper with a t-shirt over it, and a jacket and boots. No low-cut top, no "asking-for-it" clothes. But even if I had been - so the fuck what? Isn't it my right to dress exactly as I please without being harrassed? Who the hell has the right to follow me or grab me or come anywhere the fuck near me?

I'm not naïve. I know that it's not an ideal world, there have always been creeps and perverts out there who have no concept of decency or civilised behaviour. I also know that I'm perfectly justified in being extremely angry about this. "That's just how things are" - fuck it, no. It may be how things are but it's not how they should be.

The estate where I was followed home used to be part of my daily route, wherever I was going. I haven't been through there since - night or day. I've completely changed my route home - I now go 2 tube stops more, and get the bus straight to my house, instead of walking the 10 minutes from London Bridge. Even so, it hasn't stopped me getting harrassed, as I found out the other night. I think carefully about what clothes I choose to wear when I get ready to go out - I worry about whether it's safe to wear a skirt to wherever I'm going. I've started to fork out more than I can afford on taxis home - black cabs, no minicabs. I've even started to think twice about what clothes I buy - I rejected a short skirt from Topshop in favour of a stripy jumper instead. In short, I've begun to change my lifestyle because I don't feel safe.

It occurred to me that a year ago or more, I never had any trouble from people. I tended to dress more boyishly and/or teenage alternative - baggy jeans, skinny tees/little tops, trainers or boots, hoodies etc. Working a 9-5 fulltime job has forced me into a smarter, more feminine wardrobe - and y'know what? I quite like it. I like looking like a woman, rather than a tomboy. I still love my old baggies, but I don't often feel like wearing them to a gig. Yet it's only when I'm wearing something like that, that I honestly feel like I'm not going to get approached by arrogant pricks who think they have a right to touch or follow me. My mother had something to say on this - "it's not safe to be conspicuous. The more you blend into the background, the safer you are." Anyone who knows me knows this isn't my style. I've never ever blended in. And fuck am I about to start now. Why the fuck should I??? Why should I have to change my lifestyle and my clothes and my identity as a reaction to the perversions of others?

Most men that I've encountered recognise that there is a line between approaching a woman to speak to her, and trying to force yourself on her physically, be that grabbing her arm or something more serious. But the fact that I've encountered two such creeps in as many months proves that "most men" doesn't equal "all men" - there's an offensive number of people out there who think they have a god-given right to whatever they want. Men who think that if a woman wears anything that flatters her figure in any way, it must obviously be a direct invitation to them - after all, what else could it be? God forbid she might be dressing to impress her boyfriend, or to appear presentable, or to look stylish, or hell, just to feel good about the way she looks. And yet if you report any kind of assault to the police, sooner or later the implication will be made that you were asking for it. That your tarty, provocative, brazen dress sense [God, I know, my knee-length grey skirt is, like, SO outrageous] provoked an unavoidable reaction from an otherwise reasonable man. Well fuck that.