I have always dreamt of a time when I could walk peacefully at night. There is just something calming about the stars twinkling above the dark sky and a soft breeze brushing through the quiet night. People walk to breathe, to clear their minds, or to simply go home. For many, the light emanating from the moon is a sanctuary. For me, however, the night feels like a minefield. 

Walking alone in the evening has never been a pleasant experience – it is an excruciating one. Every shadow feels like a threat, every footstep sounds like a warning, and every rustle sends a jolt of adrenaline through my system. It is a constant and exhausting state of hyper-vigilance – a persistent paranoia that, at any moment, my evening stroll could turn tragic. This is not just my personal struggle, it is a shared, lived experience for women across the globe. 

This fear isn’t just a product of our imagination; it is a physiological and psychological reality backed by data. When walking at night, women display a heightened, vigilant awareness of their surroundings, a stark contrast to how men process their environment. A recent study led by Prof. Robbie Chaney at the Brigham Young University (BYU) concretized this claim wherein they utilized heat maps to determine what people think and feel as they move through open spaces. 

The results showed that men’s vision is usually straight and focused on fixed objects such as street poles and trash bins, scanning primarily for physical hazards and the dangers of the pathway itself. In contrast, women tend to expand their vision using peripheral awareness, tracking suspicious movements in the corner of their eyes, and obsessively checking dark areas such as alleys and bushes.

Women aren’t just walking to get by; we are walking in the sincere hope of reaching home safe and unscathed. We walk while whispering silent prayers that the streets will have functioning street lights. We walk with self-defense tools gripped in our hands disguised as our companions. We walk carrying a dream that someday, we won’t have to plan every single route, avoid dim alleys, and memorize exactly where to run if danger arises.  

More than just a failure of infrastructure, the real threat relies on how the environment is perceived and experienced by women. While the data from studies like BYU can help government and institutions take meaningful action, the solution requires a fundamental shift in how we build our streets and our world. Beyond better urban planning, strengthening laws and policies is also vital in improving our living conditions. 

The terror women face is not limited to the dark. Even in broad daylight, we navigate the constant threat of sexual harassment, which only intensifies our fear and grounds the difference in the lived experiences of men and women.

Imagine walking peacefully—regardless of the time—only to feel eyes lingering on you or to hear whistles and unwanted remarks from the sidelines. A simple “Hi, miss” is enough to trigger a surge of panic and leave me trembling. It is regrettably unfortunate how impossible it is to confront every man who catcalls me, as it is an exhausting, daily occurrence that often feels unlikely to escape. Because this behavior has become so normalized, I find myself desensitized, constantly feeling that I have to simply shut up and “take it” to avoid escalating the situation.

The Philippines has the Safe Spaces Act or R.A. No. 11313, also known as the “Bawal Bastos Law,” which penalizes gender-based sexual harassment in public spaces, schools, workplace, and online spaces. It covers catcalling, misogynistic remarks, unwanted invitations, and online harassment.

Yet, the existence of a law is not enough if enforcement remains toothless. It is an open secret that many sexual harassers continue to commit this disgusting behavior, knowing that enforcement is inconsistent and that the culture of “bawal bastos” is often ignored. 

We see this failure of accountability even at the highest levels. In the House of Representative, Quezon City 4th District Rep. Bong Suntay made sexually suggestive remarks toward actress Anne Curtis, only to later claim they weren’t malicious and expressed no remorse. The irony is loud: Suntay was the Majority Floor Leader when Quezon City enacted its own Bawal Bastos ordinance in 2016, years before the national Safe Spaces Act was enacted. 

If a sitting official, whose very office is tasked with upholding these gender-based policies and laws, can shrug off such behavior, what message does it send to the average man? 

It suggests that unwanted sexual remarks are merely a “banter” or a “harmless compliment.” 

When men in power normalize this, it grants “permission” to others to do the same. This keeps the cycle of harassment spinning and never-ending. Such behavior is so frequently ignored and excused to the point that men viewed these actions acceptable, leaving women to believe that if we speak up, we are simply “overreacting.” 

The burden of safety should not rest on the shoulders of women and those being harassed. Safety is not a luxury; it is a fundamental human right. We deserve a world where walking home isn’t a battlefield that needs strategic planning. It is time to stop treating sexual harassment as a minor nuisance and start treating it as the systematic violation it is. 

Ultimately, the goal is not for women to become more “prepared” to navigate the dangers of the world, but for the world to become a safer place for women. I still hold on to the dream of walking home under a dark sky, truly appreciating the beauty of the night. I want this for myself, and every other woman whose heart races in fear with a weapon in her pocket and a map of “safe routes” in her head. I’ll continue to yearn for a utopia where women can safely walk at night with their vision as straight as the path they’re walking on. 

Until that dream becomes a reality, I will never truly feel safe walking at night.