The name Sarah Everard has dominated headlines, infiltrated social media and become ingrained into our brains over the course of the last week and a half. This story, however, sadly isn’t a positive one. In fact, it’s completely heartbreaking.
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| Image courtesy of Met Police |
Sarah, a 33-year old marketing executive based in London, was walking home from a friend’s house last Wednesday when she was kidnapped and murdered allegedly by a serving police officer (whose name I won’t be using but you can find in pretty much any news article about the case), who has since been arrested and charged for her kidnap and murder. A woman, his wife, has also been arrested.
It was 9pm and she was walking from her friend’s house in Clapham, South West London to her own home in Brixton. She was last seen alive when a doorbell camera captured her at around 9:30pm.
The thing about this case is that Sarah did everything we, as women, are meant to do. It was 9pm. She chose a busy, well lit route home. She wore bright clothing. She rang her boyfriend. She did everything we’re taught to do when we’re out alone, and this terrible thing still happened to her. She just wanted to go home.
The case hits far too close to home for many women and I, along with many others, have found myself thinking about the near misses I’ve had and the fact that this could’ve been any one of us.
I don’t know a single woman who hasn’t, or doesn’t fear for her safety in some way in daily life. We change our clothes. We change our routes, choosing the busiest, most well lit route, thinking about where there is CCTV. We carry our keys in our hands just in case we need them for self defence. We share our locations with our friends and family. We make notes of taxi/uber registration plates. We take note of what our taxi drivers look like. We pull strands of our hair out to make sure there’s DNA in the vehicle in case something were to happen. We call and constantly message our friends when we’re walking home. We cross the road to avoid people. We’re constantly checking behind us to make sure we’re not being followed. We take our headphones out or we turn the music off, keeping our headphones in with nothing playing. We wear trainers just in case we need to run. We hold our breath as we pass people in the street.
As women, we should be able to go about our daily lives without fear. We should be able to go out and have the expectation of getting home safely. We shouldn’t have to change our behaviour in anticipation of the behaviour of men.
Data from UN Women reveals that 97% of young women have been sexually harassed. Almost every woman has a story. But most men would argue that they don’t know any predators.
I can’t count the amount of times I’ve experienced some form of male harassment and even assault.
The first time I remember it happening, it was when I was walking home from school. I was 14, and it was 3pm, two streets away from my house. I crossed the road to avoid this man, and he crossed over too. I can feel the sheer panic I felt at the time just writing this - it was 8 years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. He threw something on the floor (I still don’t know what it was) and then said ‘oh can you bend down and pick that up for me?’. I said no. He got pushier, and tried to lift my school skirt up. I shook him off and literally ran away. He followed me. I rang my mum at work sobbing my eyes out. It was genuinely traumatising. My mum made my brother walk home from school with me every single day for the rest of the school year.
Fast forward to now, that incident has stuck with me but I’m sad to say that it was far from the last time anything like that happened. I’ve had men harass me and shout things at me, making derogatory and inappropriate sexual comments in various places: clubs, bars, the street, on the tube, in supermarket car parks. I’ve had men put their hand up my skirt or on my inner thigh in clubs too many times to count. That exact thing happened twice in the same week during my second year of university - two different clubs, two different men, two different violations.
I don’t think I can find the exact words I want to use to describe how I’m feeling about this whole situation. I’m angry. I’m heartbroken for Sarah and her family and friends. I’m tired. I’m fed up of women having to go through shit like this every day. I want change.
This is a societal problem. It’s not all men, and we know that, but it’s too many. Things need to change.
I didn’t know Sarah but I’m sure she was a wonderful person and I’m certain she didn’t deserve this. Nobody deserves this. Sarah’s memory will live on, as will the memory of all those with similar stories. I hope that this is the beginning of a conversation that brings real change. Women should not have to live their lives in fear.
RIP Sarah Everard.
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