As a freshwoman at Spelman College, I had to attend a self-defense course, sponsored by the campus public safety department, during freshwoman orientation week. It was raining that day, we all were hyped about being away from home and experiencing the real world (and some were upset that we were required to stay on campus during the entire week of orientation, and we couldn’t go to neighboring Clark Atlanta University and Morehouse College.)

During the self-defense course, I remember feeling uneasy. I knew that the information I was learning could be potentially useful if I needed to utilize it…and that’s the thing. I didn’t want to use it. I didn’t want to feel that I had to be constantly on guard and suspicious of every man that showed interest in me or walked towards me while on campus or on a busy street. I stayed away from dating and relationships until the week of college graduation, when I finally asked the guy I had been interested in for several months to be my boyfriend.

Also during orientation, my classmates and I sat through a public safety lecture, where we were told the story of a young woman who went on a date with a fellow male classmate from the Atlanta University Center. They knew each other pretty well. Pretty well enough for the young woman to feel comfortable in going back to the classmate’s apartment after a date. After several minutes of lighthearted chatter in the living room, the classmate walked down the hallway towards his bedroom. After what seemed like an unusual amount of time, the young woman, being concerned about her classmate, walked down the hall toward the young man’s room. As she reached his bedroom doorway and called out to him with no response, she walked into his bedroom. The classmate, who was standing behind the door, reached from behind the door, grabbed the young woman, pulled her into his bedroom, and sexually assaulted her.

Going back to that self-defense class, I did zone out a lot. Learning ways to defend yourself should make you feel empowered, right? For some reason, I didn’t feel that way. It made it feel even more nervous. I didn’t want to be in a position where I had to defend myself physically, and it made me feel sad about living in a world where women had to constantly be on the defense. But the mood of the class was somewhat lifted when we received our whistles. My college classmates and I, attending an all-female college, received whistles during freshwoman year to assist us in self-defense. In the Atlanta University Center, we were the only students who had whistles, and the idea behind the whistles was that, if we felt that we were in danger, all we had to do was blow our whistles, and someone—be it campus public safety, fellow students, or students at the colleges nearby—would come to our aid. We all joked about it throughout college, of course, and thankfully, I never had to use my whistle while in college.

Flash forward, 10 years since my first year of college, and I still carry my whistle on my keychain. Living in New York City, I’m used to walking and taking public transportation to get from point A to point B. I’ve been in New York City for almost 4 years now, and I’m pretty much perfected my “Don’t mess with me” face while I’m out in public. Accompanying my mean mug are my earbuds for my iPhone’s music. I’ve gotten in the habit of walking everywhere, at all hours, with my earbuds in my ears (but now I take one earbud out when I’m out at night or in an unfamiliar place). Despite that, my keys, with the whistle attached, are always in my hand. Most times, my fingers are wrapped around the whistle in case I need to use it.

Oftentimes, I want to blow my whistle at the men who subject me to street harassment… (more…)

The SlutWalk movement has taken over the world (or at least many major cities such as New York City, Toronto, Denver, and even in Delhi, India) and many believe that it has become one of the most successful feminist actions in the last 20 years. For those of you that haven’t heard of the movement, the first SlutWalk happened in April 2011 in Toronto, Canada after Canadian Constable Michael Sanguinetti, during a January 2011 York University campus safety forum stated that in order for women to be more safe, they should “avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized.”

For many women of color (myself included) the term “slut” doesn’t really conjure up the same type of emotions as perhaps “bitch” or “hoe”, but regardless of whatever term is used, the premise is still the same: we are living in a society that tells women that not only are we the weaker sex, but that we are responsible for making sure that men don’t attack, assault, harass, stalk or rape us. That’s a pretty tall order.

SlutWalk may be the “it” thing right now, but there has been an anti-street harassment movement brewing over the last several years. From The Line Campaign to Hollaback!, women are proclaiming that it’s time for men to really take a step back and realize the behaviors that they and their peers are participating in. Yet the sad thing about it is that women shouldn’t even be the ones leading this effort. How many women do you know stand on corners and stare at and try to speak to every man that walks by? How many women do you know will tell a man that if he weren’t outside at a certain time of night/weren’t wearing certain types of clothing/weren’t drunk/weren’t trying to flirt that it’s his fault for whatever happens to him? No, I don’t think it’s women’s responsibility to tell men that this type of behavior is inappropriate. No, I don’t think that women should live in fear or in annoyance when they see a group of men standing on the corner. And no, I don’t think women should be the main ones marching by the thousands to tell men just how ridiculous their logic is for thinking that a woman deserves to be sexually assaulted or called out her name due to what she’s wearing or how she turns down a man’s advances. Street harassment and all violence against women will stop once men decide to stand up and declare that it stops.

*Where is my soap box?*

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