Walking home at night

I grew up in a strange area of the city. It was the red light district and also an Orthodox Jewish neighbourhood. This meant that lots of people were out at night: whole families walking from synagogue or the shops, sex workers on the streets, plus the partygoers and entertainers and general kooky characters. It was a fascinating menagerie but to me it was normal. I grew up familiar with the night time and was comfortable within it. I knew how to avoid trouble when it came my way and even sense when it was about. And there was always someone close by who would come running if you screamed.

In suburbia, it’s different. The night is eerily quiet, everyone locked away. Sometimes you can hear hoons outside racing their cars, vandalising public spaces or fighting each other but no one intervenes. The night belongs to raucous violent young men. Everyone else hides until dawn then emerges to check the damage. But most nights it’s just quiet with everyone in bed at a reasonable hour, lights off in the house windows by midnight. Being out at night is seen as ‘unsafe’ especially for a woman or children. There are no families walking together at night. It’s so different to me. 

An old trick I was taught as a kid was to carry my keys in between my fingers, jagged points sticking out, hand clenched in a fist. Supposedly you could slash at an attacker and get enough time to run away. I’ve never had to use it so can’t say if it’s effective but the act itself of holding the keys was soothing. Fist clenched at the ready usually buried in a jacket pocket or bag but face relaxed, chin high, as if nothing but an evening stroll. You felt like you were proactive against the fear and the mild anxiety of being on high alert, even though you worried you’d never have the guts to hurt someone even if they were attacking you. And I’d walk with the traffic coming towards me. Always. Because if a car stops and you keep walking they cannot follow you in reverse, they have to circle back, giving you time to disappear. This one probably saved my life a few times.

But again, suburban life is different. I found myself walking home at night in heels not long ago and had that familiar creeping feeling of helplessness. I was alone, in an empty street, not brightly lit and in an area where no one comes running if you scream. People in suburbia call the cops before they’d open their front door to help you. Anyway so I think, okay let’s grab a hold of those keys and you’ll feel calm and ready for anything...only even my keys have changed. Not so useful anymore.