fear

I never have the door to my house locked. I've never lived in a house where I felt I needed to lock my doors. Even with our weirdo looking neighbor who my boyfriend says hits on teenagers (he is in his 40's) I still feel pretty comfortable in my own home. I've never felt uncomfortable walking down the street, even at the crack of dawn or late at night. Actually I find walking in the middle of the night, when it's so silent very relaxing. Walking at night maybe when I feel the most safe. It reminds me of walking with my dog at night when I lived at home, one of the only times during the day when I actually was safe; away from criticism from students and teachers at school, away from yelling and abuse at home.

After that enthusiastic last paragraph of my previous post, I feel more than a little annoyed to report that the empowered feeling lasted less than 24 hours.

In an older book, Alice Schwarzer described her dream of a utopian society: one where a woman can walk by herself after dark and not shudder at every noise. I hear her on that one. We're very far away from that.

I visited friends on Saturday afternoon and took the train back at 10pm. By the time I was on my train, it was dark, and my compartment was nearly empty. I hoped it would stay that way, but was disappointed: with about 45 minutes left to go, two obviously drunk young men got on the train and sat down close to me. Their conversation was loud and though I tried to concentrate on my book, I couldn't help but listen.

... female these past 23 years".

Earlier this evening, I had a phone conversation with a guy I'd met at a club last Saturday. In an attempt to move on from my failed relationship and just because I wanted to have som fun, I've been going dancing with a collegue on the weekends for the past month. And I had a blast. I danced until I collapsed, I made new friends, I kissed some perfect strangers. And then I left the club at four in the morning, music in my veins, feeling like a goddess.

The guy I met last weekend was different. He bought me a coke, he waited for my explicit invitation with every move he made and he walked me to the car at the crack of dawn. So I accepted when he proposed we exchange phone numbers. He's called me several times since, always while I was away from the phone or in situations where I could not pick up. This afternoon I picked up to let him know that I was at work and couldn't talk. He hung up, sounding annoyed. When I finally had time to talk tonight, he greeted my by asking why I had not called him. Anger in his voice.

When I was seventeen years old, my life changed. It was not a gradual change and not a decision I’d made. It was just something that happened to me. It was spring, late May. I had a free period at school and decided, on a whim, to leave the stuffy building and go to the park to study. It was a typical Milan spring day – warm enough to wear shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing too terribly showy or flashy, but nevertheless bare arms and bare legs. I’d always felt safe in that city and the thought that I should worry about my safety had never occurred to me. So that morning, I packed up my things and walked across the street to Parco Sempione, intending to follow the path past the Arena to Castello Sforzesca. Like any other day, the area was full of tourists and I was just one of many young women walking through the park. Why he picked out me, from all of them, I don’t know. But he did.