When my confident, curious, adventurous 12-year-old daughter asked if she could go get ice cream by herself (we live in a city) the first thing that I thought of was how to prepare her to hear:

“Where’s my smile, baby?”
“Wanna go for a ride?”

What if she is surprised? Looks down? Doesn’t give the guy speaking to her the positive response that he seems to think he’s entitled to? What hurtful, explicit things will he then say to put her in her place?

From now on, she’ll have to be on alert. How many times will she have to go out of her way, take longer routes, not go certain places, alter her clothes? Not forget to hold her keys poking through her fingers? Not take certain buses, and pay for a cab instead of taking a metro? Take her lighthearted moods and tuck them away behind earphones and fake phone conversations?

How will it make my daughter feel? Powerless? Angry? Sad? Scared? It’s stressful and depressing to have to acknowledge the underlying threat of violence, especially in a culture that is dedicated to equality for all, a concept predicated on equal and safe access to public space and free speech. Her loss of innocence will have as much to do with the betrayal of this myth of equality and equal access as with understanding her physical vulnerability.