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Text Me When You Get Home

Susie Long discusses the various threats to women’s safety and how this increases at night, questioning how we can help each other to feel safe, and why it is that women feel so threatened at all.

Last week, I went to a party. We danced and laughed and sung and drank, and as the night grew stronger, fiercer, more opaque, we set off to walk home. Instantly, I was greeted by a blanket of ‘Let me know when you’re back safe’, and ‘Text me when you get home.’

A couple of nights ago, we went to a club. Dancing, singing, and drinking; the world felt like our personal playground. And then, as ‘Angel’ by Robbie Williams blared over the tinny speakers, we piled out onto the street, echoing the familiar ‘text me when you get home!’

Yesterday, my friend and I were going home from work. It was cold, and dark, and rainy, so we climbed into an Uber, diligently reciting the code before we shut the doors. The car dropped her off right outside her front door. And yet, I found myself saying, almost subconsciously, ‘Text me when you get home.’

The world at night is a scary place to be when you are, well, not a cis man. As a woman, I have become accustomed to feeling nervous in the dark, and I think that is a generalised experience. The routine of:

  1. Check phone battery (mine is always far too low)
  2. Music on (loud, to make myself feel less nervous, but not too loud that I can’t hear my surroundings)
  3. Keys in hand (but in your pocket so no one assumes you live close by)

I don’t think it’s unfair to say that many people have perfected their version of such a routine, but I find it so sad that we have to feel like this.

I remember talking to a male friend of mine in first year about our mental health. I was feeling stressed and claustrophobic in our little Stoke Bishop halls, and felt the need to get out and clear my head. He replied: “just go for a walk, that’s what I do.” He’d made it sound so simple, but it was 10pm – where was I going to go? 

Artwork by Susie Long

If a car drives too slowly next to you, or if a person happens to be following the same route home as you, we have learned to assume that these situations are ones of danger, and it is in turn accepted that people can, and should feel vulnerable at night.

I hate that this is the case. It feels like it should go without saying that women should be able to enjoy their nights out – or simply travel as they please – without feeling constantly threatened by the dangerous possibilities that the night holds.

At my last bar job, I had to walk home alone in the early hours of the morning multiple times a week. On this journey, I encountered many less than pleasant characters, often making me feel unsafe in my own surroundings and in my own skin. Thankfully, I had people to reach out to. It became a regular routine to call my lovely friend Archie on these treks home, telling him my whereabouts and him refusing to hang up until I was inside my front door. Truthfully, I don’t know what I would have done without these phone calls – they provided me with the strength that I needed to finally feel safe after dark.

However, my safety at night should not be contingent on my friend feeling the need to stay up until 3am just to make sure that I made it home. I wish I could write that there was some magical way to fix it, but I’m not sure that I can. Sadly, with acts of violent misogyny on the rise nationwide, as well as pre-existing threats to female safety and security, we all still need to keep tabs on each other.

Until the narrative can be shifted from a perspective of “what was she wearing”, “was she asking for it”, and catcalling to asking why people harm and why women are subject to violence and harassment, the night will continue to be a dangerous place to be a woman. 
As depressing as it can sound, there are ways that we can support each other and make the world feel safer. Stay safe by sharing your location and travelling in groups, phone your friends when they’re out, and track each others’ Uber or Bolt journeys. Support movements like Reclaim the Night to fuel action to promote women’s safety and, of course, keep asking your friends to “text me when you get home.”

UNPAID PARTNERSHIP: Flare

For an extra layer of reassurance, we recommend installing the Flare app. Allowing you to compose text messages in advance to a number of your choice, Flare can send an emergency text at the click of a button either from the app or your lock screen. Whether you want to let your housemate know which club you’ve been at for the evening, or you attend a protest or event and want someone to know you’re in trouble quickly, we think Flare is an app that everyone can benefit from having installed.

If you feel unsafe, there are a number of resources available:

Don’t hesitate to reach out to the team here at TWSS if you need help or advice.

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