would like to preface this post by acknowledging how my race, gender, socioeconomic class and sexuality has affected my undergraduate experience. While I have found Smith to be a safe and welcoming place, I recognize that my sense of security is not shared by all within the Smith student body. I would also like to acknowledge that while Smith’s reported sexual assault record is very low, that does not mean that students do not experience sexual assault or harassment while at Smith.
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I consider myself very fortunate to attend a college where I do not feel subjected to danger because I’m a woman. For many students, college is a place where their bodies are overly sexualized, their consent (or lack thereof) is ignored and their safety is threatened by entitled, cisgender men. Nearly one-fifth of female college students report being sexually assaulted during their undergraduate experience. While sexual assault and harassment are still very real problems on campus, significantly less Smith students are subjected to gender-based violence than students at co-ed universities.
When I am surrounded by strong, confident Smith students, I feel empowered to be a woman. I can wear whatever I want, walk around the (very dark) campus late at night and sit in my bra on Chapin Lawn during the obscenely hot New England weather.
While I am grateful to come from such an empowering environment, I found that the security I’ve felt at Smith has translated to an almost paranoia here in the city. When I first arrived in Washington, D.C this summer, I was hypersensitive to the male presence around me. I would obsessively look over my shoulder when walking downtown, pretend to be on the phone when passing by groups of men or cross the street just to avoid walking by someone late at night. Once, when I was on the Metro, I ran out from one car to the next because I thought a man was staring at me when most likely, he was just zoning out in my direction.
While there is some validity to my precautions given the regular gender-based violence women experience (and the catcalling I get on the regular), most of my fear is baseless. Instead of making me feel safer, my heightened awareness of men just made me feel anxious. By the middle of the summer, my “precautions” had gotten to the point of paranoia.
I started talking with my fellow interns about their experience in the city as young female students. While they shared my general fear of being subjected to gender-based violence, it didn’t consume them to the same degree. All of these women, however, were used to being surrounded by cisgender men at their co-ed colleges. They bonded over common experiences and shared stories of the discomfort and danger that many students felt on their campuses. When I told them about Smith Convocation, they were shocked.
Transitioning to the “real-world” gave me a new appreciation for the safety I feel in non-cisgender male-dominated spaces. There are so few places in our world where people of marginalized genders can really let go of the fear we rely on to keep our bodies safe. The more time I spent at Smith, the more I forgot what the male gaze felt like, how uncomfortable catcalling made me and the pressure to mould myself to fit society. It’s no wonder why I was hypersensitive to men in D.C. — I forgot what it meant to be a woman in today’s world.
I’ve been living in D.C. for four months now. I’ve re-adapted to co-existing with cisgender men. I still try to sit by women and older couples on the metro, and sometimes I cross the street just in case, but I’m no longer consumed by my gendered-paranoia.
I really do miss Smith, though. I miss not thinking twice about my outfit. I miss being surrounded by strong, vocal feminists. I miss being able to wear just a bra outside (especially when that D.C. humidity hits).
I hope that, with time, I’ll incorporate the empowerment I felt at Smith into my life in the “real world.” Maybe that means finding more spaces without cisgender men or trying new ways to express my gender without feeling like I’m endangering my body. I do realise that, no matter what, I can never shape the “real world” into Smith. But that’s okay — it’s just a reminder to appreciate the community Smith College provided me.
