The True Cost of Safety

Last weekend, I was out for dinner with my father and a family friend at a local pizza joint where we shared a delicious (vegan) pizza and a couple of pints. My father was in town on business though his meetings typically ended in time for dinner so we’d typically meet at different restaurants around the city. This evening we dined at a restaurant in my neighbourhood.

Prior to my father’s arrival, I suggested that he download a London-based taxi app that enables users to order Black Cabs, thereby foregoing the risk of hailing a cab. While I recognise that cabs can be more expensive than Ubers, I am all too familiar with the anxiety of ordering an Uber only to have it cancel last minute, leaving me stranded in unfamiliar parts of the city. Thus, I’ve been partial to taxis these days.

Unsurprisingly, my father took a liking to London taxis as well. I mean, what's not to love. Whether it's the spacious interior or the nostalgia factor, my father proceeded to rely on this app to transport him in and around the city.

“There’s something satisfying about predictability,” my father noted. I agreed. There is something satisfying about predictability, particularly when it comes to sharing a car with a complete stranger.

After we were seated, my father asked our family friend if he, too, preferred taxis.

“I rarely take them,” he replied.

“What about in the evenings?” my father asked.

“Rarely, if ever,” he stated. “I find the bus and tube so much more efficient—and, of course, they’re both significantly cheaper than cabs.”

My father nodded.

While the conversation moved on from topic to topic, I couldn’t stop thinking about the novelty of taking public transportation in the evening. It’s never been an option for me. As a woman, I’ve been conditioned to avoid public transportation in the evening. My anxiety around public transportation at night is not necessarily caused by actually riding the bus or train. It is more due to walking to and from tube or bus stations, alone, at night. It is in these moments where I become hyper aware of my physical vulnerability as a woman.

Of course, public transportation is the most economical way to cross the city. And while cabs are the safer option available for those willing to forego their walk home alone at night, cabs certainly are not the safest option. Indeed, violent attacks against women occur in taxis all the time. Yet from a statistical perspective, taxis and Ubers are the safer options currently available on the market.

But on the other hand, and perhaps more apparently, the cost of this form of transportation means that it's not feasible for everyone; regular trips at average prices can end up costing (female) users hundreds of pounds (and dollars) per month. And yet, I (like most, if not all, women) am forced to choose between my pocket or my personal safety.

We live in a society that fails to protect women. Instead, women are told to protect themselves. In a recent survey collected in 2021, two thirds of women surveyed in the UK reported feeling unsafe "always" or "often" while walking alone outdoors at night. This is significant. But this phenomenon is not necessarily new. While today's technology enables women to inform close friends and loved ones on their whereabouts, and governments state meaningless policies that remind women to wear 'appropriate' clothing and footwear, and to avoid public transit at night, I find these recommendations terribly unsatisfying. It's as though women are to blame for crimes and harassment committed by men.

"Dress sexy, but not too sexy," society tells us.

"Well, what were you wearing?" they ask.

"What's your problem? He was just being nice!"

To put it simply, women are told to accept male attention and to adequately protect themselves from primarily male-inflicted violence, while minimal effort goes into reducing the actual threat of violence: men.

Well, you might be thinking, "not all men" are responsible for violence against women. Or, perhaps worse: "We live in a world with over 7 billion people. Bound to have some bad apples, no?" (Direct quote from a comment written by a friend-of-a-friend on Facebook last year.) The fact is that comments and statements like this trivialise the female experience. They try to rationalise a completely irrational 'male' behaviour to preserve what men believe they are entitled to control, mentally and physically: the female body.

In 2018, A. R. Moxon (@JuliusGoat) shared an analogy. I encourage you to read the entire thread, but please note the snippets listed below:

So, where does this leave us?

The reality is that most, if not all women can relate to feeling unsafe while out in public at night. And yet, the government and other political organisations do little—if anything—to prevent and protect women from these kinds of violent attacks. A helpline? I’ll be sure to remember a phone number, dial it, and proceed to talk on the phone with a stranger while in crisis. Increased lighting? Daylight doesn’t seem to prevent men from taking advantage of women either. Additional law enforcement? As the UK knows all too well, not all police officers can be trusted.

It’s as though our society is willing to justify just about anything other than the painfully obvious problem and solution, both of which begin and end with men. While not all men are the problem or pose a risk to women, true change requires all men to actively protect women. This includes giving women adequate space on public transit, at all hours of the day (read: Don't sit next to her! Take another seat or stand). Walking behind a woman on the sidewalk at night? Cross the street or remain in her visible proximity. Don't assume that she is looking to engage with you unless she actively says so. Until men see women as equal members of society worthy of protection, as basic humanity, women will continue to exist as second class citizens in society.