Brunswick, shit men, sexual assault, good men

I want to talk about something really upsetting. Everyone in Melbourne knows about the recent murder that happened.

It upsets me that some people are now talking about what women should and shouldn't do. As if murder and rape can be prevented by a woman if she does something differently. What these assholes don't realise is that most women spend their entire lives adjusting their behaviour to keep themselves safe.

It enrages me. I don't think I know any women who haven't been in some way physically assaulted or sexually harassed.

It's how it is and it is shit. If you're a guy and you go out with your guy friends, do you stare at pretty women? Do you shout things at them? Call out to them because you're just having a laugh?

Or do you just stare then make a few comments about them?  Even if that's all, you're still part of the problem. We do have eyes you know. We can tell when you're staring, and when you turn to your buddies and you all laugh, we know you've probably said something offensive, lewd or cruel about us. Since you don't know us, you're probably talking about our bodies, our face and how we look.

At night, women walk under street lights. We walk in the middle of the road so we can tell if someone approaches. We keep our hands free. A policeman once told me to make sure I never have my headphones in at night, because rapists look for that so they can have an element of surprise. That scared the shit out of me.

I used to be terrified of groups of men. Mainly because I didn't know many good ones. I knew men that would stand behind their buddies, uncomfortable about the leering, the catcalls and the outright sexual harassment, but they would never have the guts to say or doing anything against it.

Anyway, I left my horrid hometown, and moved into the real world. And I found that wonderful men are out there in greater numbers than the jerks. The feral and frightening men are vocal and loud and screaming for our attention. The good men are pulling their mates into line and making sure that they set good examples.

The murder has terrified my father. He keeps texting me and calling me to see if I'm alright. Fair enough, I'm the irresponsible baby of the family and my parents still think I'm five. But to be completely honest, I'm not scared. I'm distressed for the woman in question and her family and friends. I'm horrified that this can happen to someone (and that last year I used to walk those streets on my own after dark). I'm fucking angry about the victim blaming bullshit that always crops up. But I love Melbourne. This is my city and I love it. It has scum. It has drug addicts. It has rapists. It also has the nice (but scary looking) guy that sat with me and chatted at some godforsaken train station late at night so that I'd feel safe (pity I thought he was going to attack me). It has the guy who is so nervous he can barely talk to any women, but who stood up for me. It has the guys I know who can't pull their mates into line because their mates are all GOOD MEN.

I'm not scared of men. I'm scared of psychos.