Part of the sisterhood
- Tamar
- 17 hours ago
- 5 min read
Today, I want to talk about girl-code. Specifically, the unspoken bond between women when we see that one of us is being bothered or harassed in public. Let me tell you a little story.
I'm sitting by the door of a busy train, on the phone with a friend, chatting about everything and nothing. A young woman walks into the compartment, a few years younger than I by my guess. She seems on edge. Soon it becomes clear why: a man around the age of sixty follows her, practically crawling over the floor. He reeks of alcohol. Slurring out what he takes to be compliments about the woman's beauty, all I hear is danger. My friend on the phone hears it, too. I tell her to stay on the line but that I'll be quiet for a bit. At that moment, a thousand things are bouncing around in my head. Do I tell him off? He's wasted. He could get aggressive. It's not safe for me to get involved. Do I get help? But where, and what would they be able to do? I want to be here in case I do need to step in. There are other people in the compartment as well, but none of them react to the very loud proclamations of this creep. He's taken a seat on the floor at this point, sipping his beer periodically. He keeps commenting on the woman's eyelashes and her nails, asking the people in his surroundings if we agree with him that she is absolutely gorgeous. There's the odd unrelated tangent as well, about how he wishes his mother would have just "fucked someone in California" so that he wouldn't have to deal with the shit Dutch weather. Or about how women these days don't really care about you. They're selfish bitches who play with your feelings.
So we can all agree: he's a delight.
Maybe the best thing to do within my power and my safety is to signal to the woman that I see what's happening. I see she is frantically trying to call someone but they don't seem to be picking up. I make eye contact and smile at her, nodding slightly. As if to say: "I got you". Not that I'm any good at being assertive or physically intimidating, but at this point I am getting pretty confident that even I could floor him if need be. My stop is coming up and it looks like the woman's getting off, too. I get up out of my seat a little earlier than needed and I put my body in between her and the drunk man, my arms stretched out to touch the walls on either side. I announce to my friend on the phone that I'm getting off. She asks if everything's okay. I tell her yes, we'll be fine, but stay on the line a little longer. The young woman is anxious to get off the train and all but sprints out the door as soon as it opens. I have to jog a little bit to catch up to her and I tap her on the shoulder when we are out of sight of the train. "Are you okay? I didn't want to say anything while he was there, but I just wanted to check up on you", I say to her. She's shaking. She says she's been trying to call her boyfriend with no luck, that the man had been making those comments from the moment he saw her sitting in the train car and that she's very shaken up. She's on her way home to have dinner, she tells me. We walk to the subway together when she gets a call back from her boyfriend. This is when we say goodbye. She's got someone looking out for her, I see her get on the subway, and I get back to the conversation with my friend, who has been in the backseat for this whole ordeal.
I think we've all heard of the bystander effect. That's what's happening in this example. Everyone in that compartment sees what's going on, but chooses not to engage. It's often boiled down to the idea that an individual does not feel responsible for fixing a situation that does not involve them, especially when they see that others aren't stepping in either, but I would like to add something that I feel is under-highlighted. And I make this case specifically for female bystanders to male intimidation. A pre-occupation for our own safety poses a barrier to intervene. I brought up the example to show how women stick together, but I am also disappointed by my lacking response in the moment. I could have addressed her, pretended to know her, done the whole "Oh my gosh, Jane? From soccer camp? It's been ages, how are you doing?" Neither of us looked like the types to have ever attended soccer camp, but you get the point. If I were in her shoes, I would have liked for someone to do that. I also would have understood if they didn't. Because I was scared as well. Of this drunken, misogynistic, only half-conscious shell of a man. Not so much of what he was doing, but what he could potentially do.
At the same time, there is a strange thing that happens when you notice women noticing intimidation. We're all so attuned to it, it seems, that we instantly become alert. It can also be really powerful, even in silence, to feel a sense of camaraderie to the women around you -- it's like a secret network. Recognition. They all know exactly how it feels. There's not even a question of whether you would be able to seek refuge with them. Just say the word and they will help you. That makes me think of that same friend on the phone, who, when going on dates while she was in Australia (!), would send me her location and the name of the guy she was meeting, just in case. She would always send it as a kind of joke, but she knows I would have sprung into action if something happened to her over there, even being miles and miles away. I don't know how I would have done it, but I would have figured something out. That's girl-code.
Now for any men reading this, just know that you can be part of this sisterhood, too. You're actually very much welcomed. I remember a man on the streets of Antwerp, seeing that another man was bothering me, telling him to stop, and checking if I was alright. It can be that simple. I remember a boy on a bus in Ottawa, being intimidated by a man who seemed to be high on something. The boy looked in the direction of my friend and I, and we signaled to him that we were seeing what was happening, keeping an eye on him, smiling and waving at him when he got off safely. You watch our back, we watch yours, you know? Call out your (male) friends when they are being intrusive, offensive, or otherwise bothersome, both with their actions and with their words. Be aware of your presence in the public space and make choices to contribute to a safer environment. It really does not take much to enter into the network of recognition.
The anecdote I shared here is one of many that I have personally experienced. Every single woman I know has similar stories and that fact alone makes me incredibly angry. In light of recent increased awareness around femicide and street harassment in the Netherlands, I add here some articles that I have found interesting these past few weeks. As suggested, there is much more to share, so I am sure I will.
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