Despite feminism’s best efforts, women are still stuck in the home
Gabby Petito
This past summer was a wake-up call for me in terms of the dangers that surround traveling as a female. While camping in the various national parks of Utah, my traveling partner and I discovered that Gabby Petito—the 22-year-old woman who was tragically killed on a cross-country road trip—had been camping in the same areas we were traveling mere weeks before our arrival. What was even more alarming was our discovery that our campsite in Moab, Utah had just been the location of a double homicide that took the lives of two women—Crystal Turner and Kylen Schulte—only two weeks before our stay. As a woman who loves to take risky solo adventures for the simple sake of living my life to the fullest, the death of these three women was a hard reality check. None of the women were traveling alone; Gabby was exploring with her fiancé, Brian Laundrie, and Crystal and Kylen were a newly-married couple who were traveling together. Even with another person by their side, these women were murdered. And while none of their killers have been confirmed, evidence points to the fact that all three of these women’s lives were taken at the hands of a man. Now, I’m rethinking traveling as a female at all.
We women are constantly having to weigh the risks versus the rewards in terms of our safety: we want to stay out late with friends, try our hand at online dating, backpack through Europe, but often the potential dangers of the outside world keep us indoors. When we do decide to take a risk and meander our way into society, we understand that’s exactly what it is—a risk. Our safety, or, lack thereof, rather, is constantly perched on the forefront of our minds. A 9 pm walk on a busy London street can end in our kidnap, rape, and murder (Sarah Everard); a cross-country road trip with our fiancé can end in our homicide (Gabby Petito); a measly 5-minute walk in broad daylight to visit a friend can end in our death (Sabina Nessa); a camping trip with our loved one can end in our killing (Crystal Turner and Kylen Schulte); hell, a peaceful night of sleep in our own home can lead to our execution (Breonna Taylor); and the list goes on, and on, and on. This short diatribe isn’t even mentioning the thousands of Native American women who are murdered at ten times the national rate (find that information here), or of the race-based violence that is brought against women of color, such as the six Asian women who were killed in the 2021 Atlanta shootings.
While this post might sound a bit demoralizing, I do think it’s important that we as women allow ourselves to feel the injustice of it all. Why am I not more angry about the fact that I can’t walk alone outside in the middle of the day without having to look over my shoulder every few minutes? Why have I not been more infuriated for Sabina, and Crystal, and Gabby, and Breonna, whose lives were taken far, far too early and at the hands of men? Why do women have to carry the burden of their own safety every minute of every day? More importantly, why are the men around me not more enraged on womanhood’s behalf? I want room to be angry about the fact that my existence as a woman is constantly threatened by a bunch of men who don’t want me taking up space in what they perceive as their world. The hate against women (read: the violence against women) is still so strong.
Today, I’m discouraged. I don’t know how to keep my grandmother, my mother, my friends, myself, or all of the women of the world safe. I don’t know how to reprogram angry, selfish men into upstanding citizens who aim to protect before they hurt. I certainly don’t know if the world will ever be a truly peaceful place for women. What I do know, however, is that feminism hasn’t progressed society as far as we like to believe. The 1950’s-era woman who keeps indoors and putters about the house is still here: women are still imprisoned in their homes.
Globally, an estimated 1 in 3 women have endured either intimate partner violence or non-partner sexual violence, and 137 women are killed every single day by a member of their family. This post isn’t about recounting all of the facts and figures—most women already have their own accounts of gender-based violence to reference—but if you’re interested in seeing the stats firsthand, here’s the UN article Facts and Figures: Ending Violence Against Women.
Perhaps one day society will start taking aggressive steps toward ending male violence against women. Maybe one day women will be able to take a jog without looking over their shoulder, or go on a date without fear of assault. Until that distant day, however, I’m going to be cooped up in my apartment, missing out on a life fully lived.