What Women Fear
By: Stark Raving
Tags: Travel, Women, Equality, Rape, This Happened To Me

What Women Fear

Some risks are turned upside down for women.

Photo by Marina Vitale on Unsplash

People tell me I should turn back, but I brush them off. The guy who says I should not trek alone. The guy who tells me to come back with a husband. The hiking route is beautiful, and clearly marked. A two foot wide, paved path leading through remote Himalayan villages, over high mountain passes and narrow suspension bridges swinging above the rapid rivers, swelled with the monsoon rains.

I know that, had I been a man, there would have been no such warnings. I ignore them. I hike. I sleep in isolated guesthouses held by lone caretakers. I don’t let myself worry about being a girl in the woods alone. I worry instead about all the things trekkers should be worrying about — the weather and the route, how fast my clothes will dry after the rain.

As always, when you step outside of the lines of the patriarchy, there is a backlash.

I pass through the very last village on my trekking route — Khati. It’s a beautiful mountain village where each house is brightly painted with intricate designs, and portraits of those who live inside, or their profession. A kettle on the Chai-stand, an old fashioned sewing machine on the tailors.

Photo by the author

After leaving the village, I follow the path down to the river, pale turquoise-green, that perfect colour of mountains streams, rushing by so fast that I get vertigo as I cross the rickety bridge. From here on out, the path leads up and up, crossing no sign of human life. There are no other trekkers, either, the path is eerily empty since I began.

I like it that way. Trekking feels like meditation. Trekking feels like coming back to my body, a body that carries me for a thousand metres a day, walking for six or seven hours. I feel strong, and competent in the solitude. Even in the wilderness, I know that meeting another person — a man, at least — would be bittersweet.

When you are a woman, some fears get flipped around. Whereas another person’s presence in the wilderness should come as a comfort, I feel like I would rather encounter a bear or a snake than a lone man. There is a familiar story that would linger over our encounter. A girl. A guy. Out in the woods, cut off from the world.

Becoming a newspaper clipping. The girl who disappeared.

So when, after passing an awe-inspiring waterfall, I hear the sound of a group of men laughing up ahead, I am more apprehensive then I am relieved. Even as I greet them and stop for a friendly chat, I am analysing escape routes, thinking of the penknife, at the bottom of my pack, useless.

The guys are porters with horses, carrying supplies up the hill to the guest houses, preparing for the next season. Right now, they say, everything is shut. The only place to stay is the very last little inn next to the glacier, run by a Hindu ascetic, living there in meditation. They tell me that’s where they’re heading for that evening, that I can stay up there with them. I hear liquor bottles clinking in the sacks on the horses' backs. One of the five guys looks me up and down, lingering on my body, his eyes stopping on my boobs. “You’re walking alone, are you?” he asks them.

I want to be brave enough to continue. I want to finish the hike. I want to walk with these guys and have a fun time, and not become a newspaper story. A nameless victim, who will make people’s heads shake as they say, “silly girl. What was she thinking?”

I say yes. I carry on up the trail. But their eyes bore into my back. It’s incredible how powerless some looks can make you feel.

I don’t feel strong, competent any more. I know that most likely, nothing will happen. But I also knew that we were all aware of what could happen. Of how vulnerable I am. It was the unspoken but familiar story, that all of us are weighing in our minds.

Gang rape.

Murder.

So easily hidden, tossed into the swirling river below. Broken like glass against the rocks.

Silly girl.

I turn back. Tell them it’s too far, I’m too tired. They try to convince me to stay. I half run away, back down the path.

I want to live, badly.

But at the same time, I’m furious at myself. I have a lot of principles about taking risks as a feminist statement. To refuse to police our own behaviour, and to shout out if something happens.

And above all, I am furious at the world we live in. How can it be that everyone just accepts that women are constantly in danger? And how come we never teach girls how to fight back?