Why I Should Feel Safe To Walk Alone

It's 11:17 p.m. and I just missed the shuttle from Lamont. It's cold and it's been dark for at least 5 hours. Another shuttle comes in 20 minutes. What do I do? I won't get any more work done staring at the wall in Lamont while waiting for the next shuttle, so I walk home, of course. I'm from a large city. I've never reached over and locked the car doors when driving through a bad neighborhood. I've always scoffed at safety precautions and I've been lucky. Living in the Yard I walked alone at all hours of the night, comforted by the neon blue lights that hovered over the emergency phones and the bright windows of fellow first-years staying up to ridiculous hours. And the Yard was never that empty--there was always a stray person walking briskly to a mysterious destination. So I should be able to handle the journey home.

However, it's another story on the other side of town--down by the river in my concrete estate. I leave Lamont and the Yard, sinking my head into my scarf. I veer out of my way to choose the brightest and most populated streets. But in Harvard Square after 10 p.m. on a weeknight, it's no easy task to find people outside. I closely follow whoever is walking towards the river, pacing myself on the heels of random students who must wonder why I appear to be stalking them. Yet there is always a stretch I must do alone, past an eerie corner of Leverett where a dark door is inset suspiciously in the wall, then down the abandoned path past the Leverett Towers. "It's well lit," a male friend says when I half-jokingly ask him to walk me home. As I walk alone the bright light seems to only make it easier for the "bad guys" to see me.

Why have I become so fearful? Why do I sigh with relief as I enter the gates to my house? Where has "Woman, here me roar" gone? Perhaps it's the onslaught of muggings, attacks and rapes that have occurred in the last year. Xeroxed news articles are posted on the house bulletin boards with "WOMEN BE CAREFUL" written across the top of the pages. It is hard not to feel tentative as one marches homeward.

Perusing the front page of The Crimson from the last month is hardly a comforting experience either: the headlines "Assailants Rob Quad Students," and "Students Robbed at Knifepoint Outside Lamont" jump out. Obviously there have been more than a few safety problems on campus lately.

So, fine, I can wait for the shuttle or call the escort service. Maybe I should. Sometimes I simply like to walk. The shuttle can be crowded and hot, and it never seems to come when I need it. The libraries are over-heated and my head becomes cluttered with esoteric facts and my own neurotic obsessions. The cold crisp air can clear my thoughts. Walking home, feeling the blood rise to my cheeks from the cold is a literal breath of fresh air. And I want the option that I can walk if I want to. Of course, Harvard can't control the problems of urban living. But if I am walking from the library to my dorm, from one Harvard property to another, and it's only a little after 11 p.m., I should feel safe enough to do it.

This is also a matter of pride; a vestige of my perceptions of sexual equality that Harvard is none too gently reminding me are "misconceptions" of sexual equality. I don't like depending on others to get myself home. I don't like burdening people to go out of their way because of my "silly" fears. I can only ask for someone to walk me home half-jokingly because I am almost embarrassed to admit my trepidation, ashamed and annoyed that I alone am not always enough.

Another male friend of mine has remarked that even he has felt fear walking home lately. It is not the safest walk for anyone, but women must always feel fear on many more levels. Yes, our fear is a function of issues that Harvard cannot begin to grapple with. But Harvard can and is working to make some positive changes in campus security.

The police are making a definite effort to improve conditions on campus by increasing patrols and police presence on campus. But I want them down by the river. One night when I arrived home, two policemen were sitting out in front of the house and suddenly I felt safer. Seeing them leaning against their car chatting calmly made me feel that much more comfortable. Just knowing that there was someone on the other side of that path to protect me would stop me from breaking into a nervous jog as I entered the uncharted territories by Leverett Towers.

There is a new police substation in Weld, open 24 hours a day. Chief Riley has said that he is working to create additional substations in the River and Quad houses. So I propose a Mather substation. A police station would certainly fit with the decor. Perhaps not the most centrally located spot, Mather is nevertheless an optimum location. Otherwise the wing of campus including Dunster, Leverett Towers, and Mather is the exposed right flank. The row of houses stretching from Kirkland to Old Leverett is always bright and never quite as abandoned my lone trek. East of DeWolfe Street there is another level of desertion that a police substation would dispel.

In the first week of school, my roommate noted that one rarely sees women walking alone after dark on this side of campus. Safety precautions are being observed. However, with a police presence in Mather, once in a while I could walk home alone. Not too late of course, but if it is not yet midnight, the shuttle has just left and there is no one to walk me, I should be able to walk alone. And then if I'm feeling overwhelmed by collegiate life, the cold air will clear my head as I walk home without fear.