At school, I did what I was told, I didn’t wear revealing clothes but got approached anyway on my home from school by two grown men.
When I was 15 a man drove me home after I had babysat his son. He drives slow, he takes wrong turns. “Just drop me here, we’re close enough”. That man, a policeman, I learned was later charged with sexual assault.
I was 17 when I went to my first Christmas work’s do. I felt the hand of a passer-by reach up under my skirt, and I heard his friends laugh as he walked away. The neckline of my dress reached up passed my collar bones and the skirt flowed just above the knees – I thought it was low enough.
At 18, I was asked by an elderly man “Is that a ladder in your tights or a stairway to heaven?” I looked down at my ladder-resist tights, apparently not resistant enough.
Leaving a club, my friend and I were crossing the road. Concealed by the bushes, but revealed by the streetlamps, a naked man masturbating. We daren’t look back as we ran back to hers, praying that we were running fast enough.
And when I lived in Spain, I was followed home, “Quiero comer tu c-” enough!
“Can I have your number?” – Why is “No” seen as an invitation to wait outside the supermarket? Why is “No” not enough?
Today I always make sure to ask my sister, “Have you got money for a taxi?” She always makes sure to have enough.
Sarah Everard did all the right things, but enough wasn’t enough to just get home.
It’s not all men, but it’s all women who compromise. It’s all women who have stories. And it’s all women who grieve.
We have had enough.
With a heavy heart,