This is in response to the woman who "could not go [to the woods] and...could not think and...could not / stay there / alone / as [she needed] to be / alone because [she] can't do what [she] wants to do with [her] own / body and / who in the hell set things up / like this." I'm quoting from June Jordan's "Poem About My Rights" which begins with the predicament of a woman always already marked as a target, prevented from solitude by the violence around her. Even if the violence is only potential, it's effect is the same: you cannot go and be where you need to. The response from your friends that you shouldn't have been there is wrong. The philosophy of Take Back the Night is right. I think the anger and determination of Jordan's poem is much more useful than meekly bowing to the constraints of others. Maybe the people in the van didn't intend you any harm, and maybe they are completely unaware that their "hey, baby" contains such a huge threat. Of course, you were right to protect yourself, and you have to determine what risks you're willing to take. But I say "Take back the woods!" I'll give an another example. I live in Houston, where it's not just hot, it's damned hot. I'm a runner. The best time to run, 9 months out of the year, is at night. But do I? Hardly ever, and then not alone, which, as runners know, is often the appeal of running-time alone. Sadly, women are only a little more conscious of these limitations than men are (at least this is what I find among my students). We're so accustomed to not going out alone or after dark or into a "bad" part of town or into the woods that when a woman does suffer an attack, we say, "Well, she shouldn't have been there." On a practical level, I'd suggest a self-defense course or a dog before I'd suggest a gun. And while this isn't exactly good news, remember that the most dangerous place a woman can be is in her own home. Male violence against women is not about finding a woman alone in the woods, though it may, of course, take place there. Men will hunt women down in their homes, at their jobs, on the freeway. No place is safe. So why cut yourself off from nature if the risk is no greater there than anywhere else. (In fact, had the guys in the van intended you harm, going back to your apartment would have been the wrong thing to do, as they could simply have followed you. If you think someone is following you, drive to a crowded place or to a police station until you're sure you've lost them.) Mostly, though, I think we have to stop idealizing nature as a safe haven, realize that it's no more and no less safe than anyplace else, and be determined about our right to it. Like anyplace, it's contested territory. Sara Farris
