It's 7:30 PM and I'm about to make the dreaded 11 block walk back to my apartment. Though it seems early, the traffic lights are the only thing that is illuminating the dark streets. Cars going 20 above the speed limit pass by me and leave a gust of cold wind nipping at my bare legs. I am clenching my phone in my left hand while my right is prepared to crash into someone's face- very very hard. I feel like I'm walking fast but it's not fast enough. No matter how fast I'm walking, I still feel miles away from my destination.

When I pass by men sitting at the bus stop or aimlessly walking around, I am sure to pause my music. I tell myself to keep looking straight. I tell myself to tighten my grip in my hands. I tell myself to keep my pace and if he even lays his pinky on me to beat his ass. The tunes from my headphones act like suspense music in an action movie. Loud enough to notice it but low enough to hear footsteps coming from behind you. While on the last stretch of this walk that has felt like an eternity, I make sure to look all around me before I walk into the apartment complex. I glance at cars and bushes and dark areas to make sure no one has followed me home. Hurriedly, I walk up the stairs and unlock the door. I'm finally home.

But what if tomorrow it isn't the same story? What if tomorrow, that man who yelled at me "Hey baby, let me show you a good time" gets even closer to me than the first time? What if the other man three blocks down from the first reaches out to me and grabs me? I've expressed these fears with multiple men who are in my life and many of them tell me that I should be delighted that men think this way about me. The first thing they ask me is, "well what were you wearing?"

What I, or other women, wear makes no difference as to whether or not it is okay to catcall and harass women who are LITERALLY walking down the street or doing any other normal task. When I ask my friends why does that matter, I am shocked when they reply with "If you're dressed like a slut then you deserve it."

Until that moment, I've never been more afraid. Knowing that men truly think it is acceptable to catcall and harass women due to their clothing choices makes my stomach turn. I know I can't change any man's behavior. No amount of feminism power can stop these men and make them understand the fear they are installing in us. The only thing that I can do for myself if just keep walking fast, avoid night time, and buy pepper spray.

The moment I pull open my front door and feel the air condition rush onto my sweaty forehead is the moment I can finally breathe.

That is what I call a victory.

My worst fear is defeat.

Authors note: Originally posted on November 20, 2017