‘Get home safe’

By Sarah Slevin

‘Get home safe.’

All of my friends would have either sent this text, received it, or both. There is an unspoken meaning to it – it means do all you can to protect yourself walking home.

To some, it means call me or someone else on your way, or if no one is available you fake a phone call. It means having your keys strategically placed in your hand – for defence or just to have them ready so you don’t fumble when you get to your door. It may mean walking faster, or jogging, or running, unless to do so would draw unwanted attention to you.

We come up with so many ways to protect ourselves, but it shouldn’t be on us to “get home safe”.

It should be guaranteed we will.

But Ashling Murphy wasn’t trying to get home safe. She was out for a run in a place she may never have really thought about her safety: a canal path, walked by local people every day.

People say it doesn’t matter what time it was or where she was. And I agree, but those facts are still important. Ashling Murphy likely did not think about safety precautions, because she shouldn’t have had to. But this is a scary thought.

Now, I look at all the places I’ve walked and the places I’ll need to be. I think of everywhere that had always felt safe to me. Those places, like my local walkway, suddenly don’t feel as safe anymore.

I went for a stroll along a busy route this week. I felt a connection with every other woman walking by themselves.

There is a overwhelming sadness in the unity we now feel.

Ashling Murphy’s murder has shown that it cannot be up to women to “get home safe”. It cannot be the responsibility of each woman to equip themselves to not be attacked – it’s on everyone; it’s on men, women, and society in general.

I don’t have the answers, but we have to start somewhere, as soon as possible. There needs to be more respect for women from men, and boys.

Ashling Murphy was murdered on 12 January 2022. Five days later I walked out of a shop alone in a retail park. I noticed three young, school-going age, boys nearby. I didn’t think twice until they shouted at me. What they said doesn’t matter but it was related to my appearance.

Usually this wouldn’t affect me much, I might be annoyed or feel a bit vulnerable, but this time, it felt different.

If you reverse the genders in this situation, you have three schoolgirls seeing a man in his mid-20s. Do you think they’d shout at him?

When something like this happens, many of us think ‘ah, boys will be boys’.

But why will they be? And why should we accept that?

We shouldn’t.