That Girl from Derwent dwells on the value of religion this Christmas.
That Girl from Derwent has learned a few more things about prejudice since moving up North.
That Girl From Derwent reckons if you're going to be offensive, you should find a better reason.
That Girl from Derwent considers why it is that some words have wider implications than others.
Walking home from the Deramore Arms last night, I was very aware that this was my first time walking through York, in the dark, on my own.
I didn't like it.
Of course, last year I became used to walking round campus on my own at night. It wasn't scary at all really – if it was before midnight, there were enough people around to make it comfortable, and if it was gone 4am, there was absolutely no one around - and at least last term, it would be getting light anyway.
And I have walked from Tru (Tokyo) to The Gallery bus stop in York on my own before after a night clubbing. And that didn't scare me either.
Nothing compared to what I felt walking alongside campus at just 10pm last night.
It didn't help really, that the street lamps along University Road weren't turned on between Derwent and New Vanbrugh. I think I would have felt safer had I needed to walk down “rape alley” - at least that is now adequately lit. Instead, I walked along, clutching my little torch (aka personal alarm given to me in my Freshers' Week) and tried to avoid being blinded by oncoming traffic. I jumped at every little sound and shadow and repeatedly looked over my shoulder. Though I knew I was being stupid, I couldn't help it. Even the tiny chance that I was being followed was magnified into a massive fear of attack in the short space of darkness between myself and the brightly-lit campus.
I began to wonder what I would do if I were attacked.
I always think, oh yes, I'd pull out those self-defence moves and leg it to the nearest safe spot. I wouldn't give anything away unless I needed to and everyone would praise my level-headedness and absolute skills.
And then I always realise I'm a little deluded.
I'd probably fumble the personal alarm, throw my bag down at the first sign of a mugging and end up being beaten up all the same.
What can I say, the pessimist in me always wins.
But this set me thinking: why is it that a young woman walking alone should be afraid of every shadow? I, who have pretty much nothing of value to a mugger (old phone, no credit cards, probably only about a tenner, though if I'm walking home from the pub, probably not even that), am constantly on my guard when I go out on my own. And yet nothing ever, ever happens to me.
That's not to say it never will and that I shouldn't continue to be wary - but maybe I need to chill out a bit too. By relaxing slightly and adopting a more confident stride through the streets of York, I would surely restrict my chances of ever getting attacked. After all, I suspect your average mugger would choose to go for the nervous, timid-looking girl clutching her bag to her body, rather than the one striding forward confidently in shoes she can run in, preferably with no bag at all.
So, I know, I know. I need to man up.
My resolution for this term? If I'm going to walk anywhere alone I'm going to look confident and purposeful – like I'm expected somewhere by lots of people who will notice if I'm late; like I know what I'm doing and I'm not going to let a little thing like an attacker get in my way.
But, seriously, I'm not asking for much – just turn those street lamps on and give people like me some peace of mind.
Because if they're not on, I'm still going to see attackers in the shadows. I'm just not going to jump.
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