“I tell my kids, if you have self-control, you have everything,” says Melanie, the innkeeper at our B&B in Fairbanks, Alaska. “It applies to any situation, whether it’s with a wild animal, a school bully, me and their dad. Self-control… it will serve them well anywhere.”

A few days later, my husband and I are sitting in the Denali National Park Visitors’ Center, watching a wildlife safety video. Home to grizzly bears, moose, and caribou, among other creatures, the park is one of the few places remaining in the U.S. where humans are intruders—and need to behave accordingly.

We like to hike, but we’ve never encountered anything larger than deer in the wild, so we’ve been leaning toward exploring Denali behind the protective steel and glass of our rental car. But just in case we feel like wimps once we’re out in the forest, we decide to watch the video so we can make a last-minute call. The trails are open year-round, after all; we can always stoke our bravery later.

Four guides narrate the 30-minute video, structured as a list of do’s and don’ts. The tips for bears in particular are enlightening:

• Minimize surprises—make noise to announce your presence
• Suppress any scents so you don’t attract bears—no fragrances, all food in bear-proof packs
• Stay vigilant: When stopping, choose sites with good visibility. Have everyone in your group face a slightly different direction, so you can see anything approaching
• Bears are curious, and their behavior is contextual; you never want to provoke or set precedent (e.g., don’t keep food in or near your tent—then they’ll think tents equal food)
• Keep bear spray close—you don’t want to be fumbling for it in a crucial moment. Make sure you know how to use it before you head out
• If you do come upon a bear and it spots you, don’t run! (That could trigger the bear’s predatory chase drive.) Back away if possible, but don’t turn your back on the bear. If you can’t retreat, stand your ground and put your arms over your head to look as large as possible
• If the bear attacks, lie in the fetal position, cover your head and neck

As the video wrapped up all the different ways hikers and campers could get in trouble, one of the youthful park rangers offered a final thought: “Don’t be afraid to go out and explore!”

Despite this encouragement, we ultimately opted to stick to our original plan. We drove to Mile 30 and back on Denali’s main road on two consecutive days: the first in afternoon sunshine, the second in morning mist and light rain. On both occasions, the weather revealed different shades of the mountains and valleys, and a variety of animals came out to greet us: bald eagles, caribou, and yes—two grizzly bears. The afternoon bear sidled down the mountain and crossed the road, less than 30 feet from our car; the morning bear stayed up on the hillside, munching on the brush. We snapped a few pictures, the gargantuan beasts transformed into mere specks on our smartphone cameras. We continued on our way, enclosed and safe.

But something about the situation rattled me, and it took me a few days to understand just what exactly it was.

I acknowledged that when I go hiking at home in New England, I am seeking out silence, as well as the opportunity to clear my mind. The recommendations for Denali—being loud and constantly on high alert—seemed in direct opposition to what I’ve always pursued when I hit the trail. I hike to relax, and this type of endeavor was vigilant — maybe even tense.

In fact, I thought, if I wanted to be constantly on the lookout and poised for a potential attack, I’d just stay home and continue my usual, “commuting on public transportation” and “woman walking alone in the city,” routines.

But something about the situation rattled me, and it took me a few days to understand just what exactly it was.
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Suddenly I realized that those safety tips from the National Park Service video weren’t so different from what I learned in a self-defense class a few years back.

• Stay constantly alert! Don’t wear earbuds or talk on your phone. Know your surroundings at all times.
• When going out, look large: Practice safety in numbers
• Dress conservatively, watch how much skin you’re showing—you don’t want to trigger a prey drive
• Yell and make noise so others know you’re in trouble
• If you’re going to carry pepper spray, make sure you know how to use it. Otherwise it could be grabbed and used against you!

And it then hit me—do we regard men the same way we regard wild animals?

I thought of Mike Pence, who refuses to dine or be alone with any woman who isn’t his wife. Louis C.K.’s compulsions. School dress codes that make sure girls don’t distract boys. The string of assaults against women in my former Boston neighborhood — conducted over repeated years by the alleged same assailant — which terrorized residents so much that the local community center provided the aforementioned self-defense classes free of charge.

I thought of the flood of #MeToo stories, encompassing friends and strangers, famous men and everyday men. My own stories, my friends’ stories. In every case, the proprieties of respect and social mores fall away and the feral urges dominate the experience (and headlines). That sense of unpredictability, that succumbing to animal nature, sets the foundation for repeated indignities—and worse.

He can’t be controlled. You need to be smart. (You need to take that self-defense class!)

Boys will be boys—it’s in their nature.   

Don’t tempt him or be a tease—he can’t help it.

Do we regard men the same way we regard wild animals?
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We took a red eye home from Anchorage and promptly fell asleep. When we were somewhere over the Midwest, Dr. Christine Blasey Ford started her testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee. Jet-lagged and bleary-eyed, I watched a video recording of her opening statement later that evening. She was composed, with self control.

I watched Justice Kavanaugh, raging and roaring; Lindsay Graham, red-faced and sputtering; both as volatile as creatures disturbed in the wild. And I suppose they were—here was an interloper daring to call out how they roamed their habitat. In both her statement and replies, Dr. Ford refused to continue the narrative that they had no self control.

Of course, this narrative won’t go away quietly—cultural mores built over millennia don’t just course correct or even adapt immediately. Just this month, for example, the Atlantic gave Newt Gingrich a lengthy (and often bizarre) profile, opening the story with its subject stomping around in a zoo and featuring choice quotes comparing all of human nature to the animal kingdom. Photos show him grinning alongside menacing dinosaur skulls and petting giant turtles.

“It’s not viciousness, it’s natural,” he chides after the reporter pushes back. Later in the story, citing a 2016 speech Gingrich gave to the Heritage Foundation, our president is compared to (what else?) a grizzly bear—specifically, the ferocious bear in the movie The Revenant: “He will walk over, bite your face off, and sit on you.”

Here was an interloper daring to call out how they roamed their habitat.
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But for those of us who have never wielded power — who have never been regarded (or permitted to be regarded) as wild or ferocious — we know by default that there are other ways of moving through the world.

For those millions of us who have always been held to a higher standard — who have never had the privilege to unleash any “wild” tendencies — we know collectively what’s possible. That we all can do better. That the narrative of “nature dictates violence” has to stop. In short — that we all can exercise self control.  

Two days after we returned home, my husband and I drove up to Plum Island for a hike through the nature preserve. The sun was high and the salt marshes spread as far as the eye could see. It was quite a departure from Denali—mostly flat without a predator in sight.

But at a certain point, I got ahead of Andy on the boardwalk trail, and saw a solo man a few feet away. The wind rustled through the brush that flanked the narrow pathway. It was just him and me as we approached each other. He could be a bear, I thought, or he could be a crane.

And just like that, all senses were firing.

I took a deep breath. Self control, I thought, and hoped it would be enough.

I wondered if he had even an inkling of the same thought.

“Hello,” I said as we made eye contact.

“Beautiful day,” he said, and we continued our opposite ways.

I vividly remember the first time I encountered street harassment; I was 12, living in a suburb of Northern California. As dusk settled, I was on my way home from a friend’s place when an older man sitting on a bench in front of his house catcalled me.

He whistled.

I kept walking, but he stood up and began to follow me.

“Hubba hubba, I do like what I see.”

I was shocked, confused. I felt violated. Walking alone in the dark, not only was I terrified, but I didn’t have a word to describe what I was experiencing. I desperately wanted this nightmare to be over, but his whistles followed me and his stalking continued. I ran the rest of the way home trying to hide the tears that were now streaming down my face.

As I got older, the street harassment didn’t go away, but I taught myself how to deal with it. Walk fast. Don’t make eye contact. Avoid certain streets. Quickly look back to make sure I’m not being followed. Don’t go out alone past a certain time. When — not if — it happens, force a smile and hope for the best.

Like many women, I internalized street harassment; I came to take it as a fact of life. But let’s be clear: Being openly propositioned and threatened isn’t normal and our society shouldn’t accept it as such.

It is a well known fact — amply documented — that women face greater amounts of street harassment and violence than men. Additionally, a new study conducted by Harvard researchers reveals that a vast majority — 87% — of U.S. women ages 18–34 have endured sexual harassment or violence.

Force a smile and hope for the best.

What is less clear are the reasons behind why some of these problems persist, and what can be done about them.

If we roll the clock back to 2008 during the economic recession in the United States, many cities began to reduce the amount of street lighting in an effort to cut costs. These marginal cost-saving measures had a disproportionately negative effect on women and women’s safety. In the years after, cases of gender-based street harassment and violence spiked in some cities. In 2014, San Diego reported six cases in one neighborhood alone during a two-month span in which women were physically assaulted on dimly lit streets. In Oakland, California, overall crime rates rose citywide after a reduction in street lighting.

The relationship between poor street lighting and gender-based violence is global and widespread. Cities across India, for example, added thousands of street lights to improve the safety of women traveling at night in response to safety concerns women communicated.

Walking alone at night shouldn’t be something that women have to fear. We have the ability to create streets where women are comfortable using the public space they have a right to, and are safe in doing so. But at the same time, the people in power to make street lighting decisions, such as policy-makers, urban planners, and city engineers — who, let’s not forget, are overwhelmingly cis white males — often claim to take a “gender neutral approach” to street lighting.

Walking alone at night shouldn’t be something that women have to fear.
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In my work as a scholar who studies the intersection of feminist theory and transportation policy, I engage with urban planners and engineers frequently. The focus of my research aims to understand the reasoning behind why they undertake certain actions, and how their decisions could better support the mobility needs of women.

My recent work involved extensive interviews with urban planners and engineers from cities within 16 U.S. states to discuss their approaches to providing street lights in the cities where they work. A majority of the interviewees explicitly claimed to take a “gender neutral approach” to street lighting, which is problematic for five distinct reasons.

1/ Referring to street lights as a “gender neutral issue” is a way for city officials to apply a “one size fits all” approach to a situation where the “one size” is clearly best suited to men and their needs.

As a result, the distinct needs of women are not reflected in transportation policy-making and urban planning practices, which has a tangible impact on how our streets look and who is able to use them.

In deciding where street lights are located, the most common approach is to only provide street lights at intersections and along major arterial streets (typically streets with high motorist speeds and multiple travel lanes). While this may satisfy the safety needs and comfort levels of men, women still report not feeling safe walking in dimly lit areas. As a result, this forces women to either consciously or subconsciously change their route to travel along better-lit streets at night.

Unfortunately, not only is the woman now being forced to walk out of her way to avoid dark neighborhood streets, but since these streets generally have higher automobile speeds and lack mid-block crosswalks, women walking at night are then thrust into situations where they are faced with entirely new safety risks.

2/ Different genders look at infrastructure differently, which isn’t accounted for in a gender-neutral approach to street lighting decisions.

For example, when a bicycle path or sidewalk goes through a tunnel or passes between two fences, men and women view these in drastically different ways. A city engineer or policymaker may authorize the construction of a fence along an off-road bicycle path in an attempt to “keep people out” or from trespassing on private property; however, women oftentimes view this as a way of “keeping them in” where they have no “out” in the event that their personal safety is at risk.

Keeping these paths well lit at night is one way to provide a safer environment for women where they feel comfortable and willing to use them.

3/ These safety concerns are multiplied for women of color and gender non-binary people who face disproportionately high levels of street violence.

We’re desperately in need of an intersectional approach to urban planning and street lighting standards to ensure cities are safe for everyone. Intersectional transportation planning recognizes the diversity of mobility needs, and works to include a wide range of viewpoints in urban planning conversations.

There isn’t simply one universal approach to street lighting and urban planning, but equitable urban planning requires participation from the public. More complicated still, sometimes the process for the public to become involved doesn’t meet the needs of certain groups. But simple changes such as providing childcare services, offering translators at public meetings, and soliciting input from people with marginalized and underrepresented identities — through electronic and written methods — can help assure that our built environments meet the safety needs of everyone.

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4/ Our contemporary transportation systems and design of city streets are already entrenched in a sexist and patriarchal understanding of mobility and female independence.

As a result of poor street lighting, women sometimes are less likely to independently walk, bike, or use public transit at night, where men are not. This constrains where women freely go, takes away their right to independently use public space, and reinforces a patriarchal view of city streets.

5/ When street lighting is viewed as a gender-neutral issue, it only serves to further normalize and trivialize the realities of the street harassment and violence that women face.

And, most importantly, it ignores that women and other genders have distinct safety needs that aren’t met by gender-neutral urban planning.

Ultimately, city engineers and urban planners are the decision-making forces behind providing adequate street lighting in cities. And, although it is the city decision-makers’ responsibility to ensure the needs of all genders are met in their work, too often the needs of women are camouflaged by gender-neutral practices or overlooked altogether. Women can and should play a direct role in informing and impacting urban planning decisions by working to make their voices heard.

Part of centering these voices is striving to embed these conversations on street violence, body boundaries, and respect from an early age — and having them at home isn’t enough. We must make them commonplace in schools and community and civic programs, all the while empowering women to speak out against street harassment rather than asking them to normalize it.

The most common way to report cases of street harassment and safety concerns is to contact law enforcement; however, because some marginalized communities have strained relationships with law-enforcement officials, local transportation and women’s advocacy groups can also serve as a vital resource in communicating the distinct travel needs of women.

City planners and policymakers play a critical role in curbing street harassment and gender-based street violence, and acknowledging women’s transportation needs by providing ample street lighting is one small step in the right direction.

In order to reach a place where transportation practices meet the needs of all genders, women must be able to share their transportation experiences, and transportation decision-makers must listen.