Last night, while walking the dogs, I experienced a touching moment of kinship with a stranger that I’ll carry with me for a long time.
It was late in the evening, the safest time to go outdoors in the recent sweltering heat. Although to be honest, even in the colder months I enjoy the freedom and quiet solitude of walking the dogs at night. I much prefer it to the bustling cacophony of the daylight hours.
As we ambled down the familiar sidewalk, just blocks from the safety of home, three large, boisterous men turned onto the street. They began walking in our direction, but on the opposite side of the sidewalk.
The men were talking energetically and it was clear they’d been drinking. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially on a holiday weekend, but enough to put any woman walking alone on alert.
As we got within a block of each other, they suddenly crossed the street to the side I was on, for no reason I could see.
Again, could be totally innocuous, but I was definitely thinking about my escape routes at this point. With only a few houses between us, the sense of urgency intensified.
One of my dogs is reactive around strangers, so I had a good excuse to cross to the other side of the street. Still, I was nervous that I’d attracted the group’s attention and that they‘d’ use my clear attempt to avoid them as an excuse to lock me into an unwanted conversation.
Speaking of, strange men, could you not take it so personally when women act nervous around you or try to avoid interacting with you? It’s a response born from years of experience. There’s truly no need to confront us about it, nor to try to convince us you’re one of the good ones. The best way you can convince us is by letting us be without imposing your existence upon us.
Anyway, as I moved to cross the street, I noticed a woman standing on the “safe” side. She’d been wheeling her trash out to the street, but now she seemed to be lingering, waiting.
I walked past the woman as I crossed the street with the dogs. As I did, I noticed that she intentionally looked me in the eye and smiled. Then she continued working with her trash can, subtly moving the wheels back and forth to appear busy.
Once safely across the street, the dogs and I watched as the men passed without incident. Everything was completely fine, but it did make me wonder: What if it hadn’t?
If those men had been the catcalling type or worse, having an ally nearby could have made a world of difference. At the very least, I would’ve had a witness on standby to corroborate my account.
Who knows? That woman’s presence may have even served as a deterrent for negative behaviors that a group of men may have otherwise inflicted on a woman alone. Her watchful stance silently told those men what it told me: I wasn’t alone.
I glanced back at the woman, who nodded and turned to enter, her small but mighty contribution to feminism complete.
I’ll think about this moment of unspoken guardianship and solidarity on my next walk. About the woman who took a moment to care about me, a complete stranger, just because she happened to be there.
That’s what I hope to do for others, and what I encourage you to do as well.
We’re stronger together.