What does it mean to feel safe (or unsafe)
A five-level system to talk about threats to our safety
Today is the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. The response to those attacks, and multiple wars and disasters, have brought into our vocabulary various systems for classifying threats and emergencies. So today, we are going to use that vocabulary to describe a similar five-level classification of the most common threats to our personal safety, depending on who we are and how we are seen by others.
In these times of a pandemic, we all face risks to our health anyway. And the increasing effects of climate change pose a risk for all of us too. Our classification system won't take these into account, but only those risks which specifically target some of us because of our identity. I shall use my own experiences as a framework, but it is not meant to be only about gender and sexual orientation. It can apply to any other scenarios too where someone feels safe or unsafe because of how others perceive them.
I had written about a similar topic a few years ago under a pseudonym, and I will be using those ideas and building on them here. Some of the experiences I will mention here have also been written about in this interview, but I'll be going into more detail here. These 'levels' are not meant to be definitive or exhaustive or with hard boundaries, but only a guide to share our experiences and understand those of others.
So, let's get started.
Green: walking unnoticed
When we say that a particular city or neighbourhood is safe, what do we mean?
For men who look and behave like most other people around them, or belong to a clearly privileged section even while looking different from others, most places might feel safe. Risks of sudden and unforeseen accidents or crimes can exist anywhere, but if your only worry in a public place is 'how do I keep my wallet and phone safe', it is not that much of a worry after all.
I say this because I knew what this felt like, at least for most of my 20s. Even if I do not associate my pre-transition self with being a ‘man’, being perceived as one conferred this advantage at least in some situations. When appearing stereotypically masculine, I could walk around unnoticed in many public places. Sure, there were some variations in my experiences based on place, my attire, age, body weight etc, but for most of those years, it was relatively easy to blend in with a crowd.
Blue: stares of curiosity
If you do not look or behave like others around you, and find yourself as the subject of more than a few curious stares, obviously it might feel more unsafe than being completely unnoticed. This could be because of how you look (your race or ethnicity, body type, attire etc), how you sound (language, accent, voice pitch, intonation etc), or your mannerisms etc.
I knew what this felt like for much of my teens and on several occasions in my 20s. I grew my hair out twice in my 20s, and definitely felt a little more on edge at those times. But even besides hair length, other factors like body type or age or the slightest effeminate gesture were also associated with many of these stares of curiosity.
When I started to transition in my early 30s, once again I noticed an increase in these curious stares, which I hadn't seen in many years. Long hair once again, along with slight changes in clothing and mannerisms were enough to attract these stares, even if I was still perceived as male in those first few months. Doesn't it make us wonder how constricted are the boundaries of masculinity? Or why do we need to put every stranger in a gender box in the first place?
Yellow: general creepiness
I wish I could say that I knew women, or anyone perceived as a woman, who know what it feels like to be totally unnoticed in a public place or just face a few curious stares. I do not know of any such woman, whether cis or trans. Every single woman I know, has experiences of dealing with creepiness in general. And it is not just in public places, but also in private interactions.
Sure, many of us will say that certain cities or places are safer than others, certain times or attires or the kind of people around you can make a difference, but in one way or another, every single woman I know is forced to start with a baseline assumption that there might be creeps around and they will have to be dealt with.
In my childhood and teens and 20s, there were a few moments when I had to figure out ways to deal with some creepiness around me. In the last 4-5 years, since being perceived as a woman has become my 'norm', this has been the baseline level. It is now tough to recall what the 'green' and 'blue' levels really felt like.
Although I had some experience of dealing with creeps, and knew about the extent to which women in general faced this issue, it was very different from viscerally experiencing it myself all the time. However, this is just my experience. For a lot of trans women, or indeed any queer or trans or gender nonconforming persons who are never able to fully 'hide' themselves, or for those of any gender who have faced sexual violence, these visceral and pervasive experiences with creepiness may be all too familiar, often right since childhood. Moreover, whatever one's experiences on this aspect of personal safety might be, battles with dysphoria, homophobia and/or transphobia make one's journey fundamentally different and more difficult compared to those who do not have to fight these battles.
Finally, facing creepiness because of one's gender, or gender expression, does not preclude us from facing curious stares or dangers because of other aspects of our identity. For example, my partner and I also face curious stares for other reasons besides the creepiness that we have to deal with as women. And this is in a relatively safe neighbourhood of a safe city. (Trigger warning - I wrote this line before I had read this news from my city. Numb after reading this, but I do believe that it is still safer than other cities in this country.) In other places, it could be worse, or it could reinforce the creepiness or put us in outright danger. To put it in other words, all women face creeps, but some women might be perceived as 'easy' for some reason or the other, and might face more risks than usual.
Orange: disgust or incomprehension
I mentioned a few paragraphs ago that when I started to transition in my early 30s, I noticed an increase in stares of curiosity. After this phase and before I could reach a point where I was perceived as a woman by most people, there was another phase where most strangers found it hard to 'guess' which gender box should they put me in. This happened not just because of the physical aspects of the transition, but also because I consciously tried to 'hide' myself by dressing in loose, dark clothes for a long time, to the extent that some friends who came to know me around that time initially wondered which direction I was transitioning in.
The most common reaction from strangers in this phase, was either disgust or incomprehension. It felt close enough to outright danger, and on its own, it was unnerving and disorienting, because unlike the previous three 'levels', this was something I had never dealt with before.
For a lot of queer, trans or gender nonconforming people, this 'level' may actually be a baseline expectation. In other words, the 'average' place is assumed to be one where they might face disgust or incomprehension on a regular basis. A 'safe' place might be one where reactions are limited to just some curiosity and creepiness. And an 'unsafe' place might be one with a constant high risk of violence.
In case it needs to be explicitly said, of course not all people around in any given scenario are creepy, or stare at others with curiosity or disgust or incomprehension. But even a few such behaviours, and the sheer obliviousness of everyone else, is enough to make a place or situation unsafe.
As I said in the beginning, this framework can be applied not just to experiences related to gender and sexuality, but also any other aspects of our identity. Whether it is religion, race, ethnicity, skin colour, body type, attire, language, caste, class, physical or mental ability, diet, customs and practices etc, biases and bigotry on any of these aspects can make places or situations unsafe very quickly for someone from a marginalized group.
Red: high risk of violence
Sigh. I wish this ‘level’ didn’t exist at all. But it does. And the scariest part is that a scenario from one of the previous ‘levels’, especially creepiness or disgust, can very quickly change into this one. Nothing much to say here, because we all know how bad it is. A lot is already said and written about how pervasive sexual violence is, both in private and public spheres. And violence due to religion, caste, ethnicity or any of the factors mentioned above, is also all too familiar in our country and in most parts of the world.
Not just one’s group identity, but even what one says or writes or does can put someone at this level of risk, especially in our country in current times. Death threats, stalking and hounding, and murders or assaults or illegitimate arrests of individuals who are seen as ‘inconvenient’ to someone, have become too common.
What makes sexual violence more insidious than all these other types of violence, is the shame and stigma attached to it. And its sheer pervasiveness across all kinds of populations. And our failure to often truly acknowledge or understand how severe the problem is.
In conclusion
As I narrated above, before transition, my experiences around personal safety varied between the first three ‘levels’. After transition, they have varied between the last three.
Even for cis ‘straight’ men who may face higher risks of violence or bigotry because of other aspects of their identity, there is always a possibility that somewhere, in some situations, they can just blend in and walk unnoticed.
As women, we wish for that too. But... I don’t know of a single place or scenario where it really comes true. Where worries about our safety disappear for good. Maybe one day this world will be such a place.
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