Smile love, it might never happen. 

Well here’s my list.

There were the older boys who took me and my friend Becky aside into the library at school, and talked to us about our body parts. They showed theirs. Age 9.

There was the neighbour we all instinctively knew not to go near at community barbeques. And we knew not to leave anyone behind. Age 11.

There were the guys in Spain on Spanish exchange who would drive past repeatedly and shout at me out the window about my chest and blonde hair. I was 14.

There was the bloke on the bus to that club, who squeezed us into a seat, refused to move at our stop, and helped himself to a handful of our vulvas as we climbed past. We were 16.

There was the driving instructor, who took me for walks, put his shoulder on my head to ‘see the speed dial’, and took me home to meet his guinea pigs. I thought I could handle him. I was 17.

There was the friend who comforted me when I was upset and made a grab for my tits when he got the chance. 18.

There was the scary Big Issue guy, who approached me alone, and then followed me yelling about my privilege, when I wouldn’t stop to talk in a dark corner. 21.

There was the friend’s boyfriend who got drunk and told me how much he liked me, and wanted to check if my breasts were real. I couldn’t prove it unless he felt. 22.

There was the bloke on the busy train who sat next to me, and kept ‘accidentally’ brushing my breast with his arm, and pressing his leg against mine. It wasn’t that busy. 24.

There were all the blokes at the parties and clubs who came up behind me to rub themselves against me, or cop a feel. Who worked in teams to separate the target girl for their mate. 15-25.

There was the guy at work who just got a bit too friendly at the Christmas do, with hands where they shouldn’t be. I laughed it off. 26.

There was the airport security guy in Egypt who pulled me out of line and complimented my partner on my boobs and hair. Holding an AK47. Fun times. 27.

There are all the builders who have ever wolf whistled, all the blokes in cars who have beeped when I’ve been jogging, alone, at twilight, all the times I’ve been told to smile. 

I wrote this list in 2017 at the beginning of #MeToo. I’m writing it again after Sarah Everard’s murder. 

Smile, love, it might never happen.

Well it does happen, more than you think. It’s still happening, and it’s starting younger than you think, too. 
Not every man, but EVERY woman, every single woman has a list like this. Every single girl. 

Whether you like it or not, cat-calling and rape ARE on the same curve. Consent, and domestic abuse, emotional and physical, are part of the same problem, too. And maybe those lists are even longer...

There was the man I dated who kept trying to slip off his condom. He called me mad when I called him out. 39.

There were the men on dating sites who told me I was boring and frigid for not wanting to share my number or meet up immediately. 40+. 

There were all the times I had sex with a partner when I didn’t want to and didn’t feel like it, when it hurt, but I couldn’t face the consequences and recriminations if I didn’t do it. 

There were all the times in relationships I was told I was lazy, and useless, and not ambitious enough, or supportive enough, and too intense, and showing too much cleavage. 

There were all the times I was told I was crazy, or over-emotional, or remembering it all wrong. 

There were all the times I wasn’t believed. 

Smile love, it might never happen. 

Well it did happen, and I know I’m not remembering any of it wrong. 

Attitudes to women matter. 

Misogyny matters. 

WE matter. 

And it kills not just on the streets but inside homes, too. 

The truth is that a lot of women are not safe, a lot of the time. All of them have the lists to prove it. 

And frankly, right now, it feels like there’s very little to smile about.