DIY History | Transcribe | Campus Culture | Take Back the Night newspaper editorials and articles, 1982 | Daily Iowan Article: "Free of fear for just one night"

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Take Back the Night newspaper editorials and articles, 1982

Daily Iowan Article: "Free of fear for just one night"

25 Oct 82

Free of fear for just one night
Women take back the night 

The other night I walked seven blocks down Burlington Street to meet a friend at The Mill. It was about 9 p.m. and I could have driven, but the air was cool and I felt like walking. But I had this creepy sensation I should have driven. Sure, Burlington is full of traffic and sorority houses and other pedestrians, and 9 isn't very late at all...
I felt someone could accuse me of "asking for it" by taking a chance. Whenever another pedestrian approached, I looked to see whether it was a man or woman. If it was a man, I felt a sliver of fear.
To be a woman in Iowa City, in most places in the United States, is to feel that the streets belong to someone else at night.
Many times  when I come home at night, I am afraid that someone has entered the empty apartment. A man could be in the kitchen, or lurking in the bathtub. And like countless other women, looking in the back seat of the car for a hidden man has become second nature for me.
It would be comforting to be reassured that these fears are groundless. They're not. Last year, the UI Rape Victim Advocacy Program received reports of 63 current and 29 past rapes, 31 assaults and 61 harassments in Johnson County. Estimates are the only 10 percent to 40 percent of all rapes are reported. 
Nationwide, a woman is beaten by her husband every 18 seconds.

These are some of the reasons I gathered with about 200 other women in College Green Park- "Rape Park"- Saturday night, We wanted to "Take Back the Night" and the park, which are rightfully ours.
I had looked forward to feeling safe in the park at night, without relying on a man for protection. At first we just stood among the trees and fallen leaves, drinking in what it was like to be with just women.
After sharing songs and poetry, we split into four groups to discuss our feelings about violence against women. My group didn't want their words reported; I am honoring that. We talked about our own experiences, reacted to one another's. We agreed we were afraid. We agreed we were angry. There was nervous laughter. Applause wafted over from other groups.
I had expected the group session to be full of cathartic revelations. Someone would give a tearful account of a childhood experience. Someone else would chime in. Perhaps some huge anger would build inside me and flood out.
But that didn't happen. What I did realize was how I had come to accept the level of fear in my life as ordinary. It had become so ingrained- of course I felt frightened when I stopped along Interstate 35 one afternoon to investigate a designated scenic view. Of course I clutch my rape whistle and keys between my knuckles as I walk down Dodge Street. Of course men I'm close to will occasionally horrify me with their sexism ("I want to crush your hips," someone told me recently. I yelled at him.)

For one night, I wasn't afraid or horrified. I felt, instead, overwhelming power and security as we left the park to march downtown. Three abreast, we banged and clanged our bells and pot lids, chanting, "Women unite. Take back the night!" For once, I was able to walk through the Pentacrest at 10 on a Saturday night, and not feel nervous, to sing defiantly in the middle of a dark alley.
But that was just one night. What next?
Man have been asking that all week. They couldn't understand a rally for something intangible. Did we want more street lights? Where? How many? Did we want to educate people? Then why exclude men? 
The rally gave us  a chance to share feelings and feel strong and safe as women. It was phase one. I admit it was an imperfect phase one. Some men felt excluded. I'm upset that three men and two women filed complaints with the police about being refused entry or being removed from the park. A DI reported said  women assaulted him and threw him out of the park.
What happens next is open. Men can meet, as 14 did Saturday night at the Iowa Memorial Union, to share their feelings. Both genders can meet together, can educate themselves and work against violence. Women can gather the courage to confront sexism in our ordinary days.
For dark streets are merely the most obvious places we are not powerful. We still make 59 cents to a man's dollar. We're struggling to make our voices heard in boardrooms and classrooms. As we sang on Saturday, in a song by Peggy Seeger, "Reclaim the night and win the day."

-Sandy Wisenberg
Wisenberg is a graduate student in the UI Writers' Workshop. Her column appears every Monday.

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25 Oct 82 Free of fear for just one night Women take back the night The other night I walked seven blocks down Burlington Street to meet a friend at The Mill. It was about 9 p.m. and I could have driven, but the air was cool and I felt like walking. But I had this creepy sensation I should have driven. Sure, Burlington is full of traffic and sorority houses and other pedestrians, and 9 isn't very late at all... I felt someone could accuse me of "asking for it" by taking a chance. Whenever another pedestrian approached, I looked to see whether it was a man or woman. If it was a man, I felt a sliver of fear. To be a woman in Iowa City, in most places in the United States, is to feel that the streets belong to someone else at night. Many times when I come home at night, I am afraid that someone has entered the empty apartment. A man could be in the kitchen, or lurking in the bathtub. And like countless other women, looking in the back seat of the car for a hidden man has become second nature for me. It would be comforting to be reassured that these fears are groundless. They're not. Last year, the UI Rape Victim Advocacy Program received reports of 63 current and 29 past rapes, 31 assaults and 61 harassments in Johnson County. Estimates are the only 10 percent to 40 percent of all rapes are reported. Nationwide, a woman is beaten by her husband every 18 seconds. These are some of the reasons I gathered with about 200 other women in College Green Park- "Rape Park"- Saturday night, We wanted to "Take Back the Night" and the park, which are rightfully ours. I had looked forward to feeling safe in the park at night, without relying on a man for protection. At first we just stood among the trees and fallen leaves, drinking in what it was like to be with just women. After sharing songs and poetry, we split into four groups to discuss our feelings about violence against women. My group didn't want their words reported; I am honoring that. We talked about our own experiences, reacted to one another's. We agreed we were afraid. We agreed we were angry. There was nervous laughter. Applause wafted over from other groups. I had expected the group session to be full of cathartic revelations. Someone would give a tearful account of a childhood experience. Someone else would chime in. Perhaps some huge anger would build inside me and flood out. But that didn't happen. What I did realize was how I had come to accept the level of fear in my life as ordinary. It had become so ingrained- of course I felt frightened when I stopped along Interstate 35 one afternoon to investigate a designated scenic view. Of course I clutch my rape whistle and keys between my knuckles as I walk down Dodge Street. Of course men I'm close to will occasionally horrify me with their sexism ("I want to crush your hips," someone told me recently. I yelled at him.) For one night, I wasn't afraid or horrified. I felt, instead, overwhelming power and security as we left the park to march downtown. Three abreast, we banged and clanged our bells and pot lids, chanting, "Women unite. Take back the night!" For once, I was able to walk through the Pentacrest at 10 on a Saturday night, and not feel nervous, to sing defiantly in the middle of a dark alley. But that was just one night. What next? Man have been asking that all week. They couldn't understand a rally for something intangible. Did we want more street lights? Where? How many? Did we want to educate people? Then why exclude men? The rally gave us a chance to share feelings and feel strong and safe as women. It was phase one. I admit it was an imperfect phase one. Some men felt excluded. I'm upset that three men and two women filed complaints with the police about being refused entry or being removed from the park. A DI reported said women assaulted him and threw him out of the park. What happens next is open. Men can meet, as 14 did Saturday night at the Iowa Memorial Union, to share their feelings. Both genders can meet together, can educate themselves and work against violence. Women can gather the courage to confront sexism in our ordinary days. For dark streets are merely the most obvious places we are not powerful. We still make 59 cents to a man's dollar. We're struggling to make our voices heard in boardrooms and classrooms. As we sang on Saturday, in a song by Peggy Seeger, "Reclaim the night and win the day." -Sandy Wisenberg Wisenberg is a graduate student in the UI Writers' Workshop. Her column appears every Monday.

25 Oct 82

Free of fear for just one night
Women take back the night 

The other night I walked seven blocks down Burlington Street to meet a friend at The Mill. It was about 9 p.m. and I could have driven, but the air was cool and I felt like walking. But I had this creepy sensation I should have driven. Sure, Burlington is full of traffic and sorority houses and other pedestrians, and 9 isn't very late at all...
I felt someone could accuse me of "asking for it" by taking a chance. Whenever another pedestrian approached, I looked to see whether it was a man or woman. If it was a man, I felt a sliver of fear.
To be a woman in Iowa City, in most places in the United States, is to feel that the streets belong to someone else at night.
Many times  when I come home at night, I am afraid that someone has entered the empty apartment. A man could be in the kitchen, or lurking in the bathtub. And like countless other women, looking in the back seat of the car for a hidden man has become second nature for me.
It would be comforting to be reassured that these fears are groundless. They're not. Last year, the UI Rape Victim Advocacy Program received reports of 63 current and 29 past rapes, 31 assaults and 61 harassments in Johnson County. Estimates are the only 10 percent to 40 percent of all rapes are reported. 
Nationwide, a woman is beaten by her husband every 18 seconds.

These are some of the reasons I gathered with about 200 other women in College Green Park- "Rape Park"- Saturday night, We wanted to "Take Back the Night" and the park, which are rightfully ours.
I had looked forward to feeling safe in the park at night, without relying on a man for protection. At first we just stood among the trees and fallen leaves, drinking in what it was like to be with just women.
After sharing songs and poetry, we split into four groups to discuss our feelings about violence against women. My group didn't want their words reported; I am honoring that. We talked about our own experiences, reacted to one another's. We agreed we were afraid. We agreed we were angry. There was nervous laughter. Applause wafted over from other groups.
I had expected the group session to be full of cathartic revelations. Someone would give a tearful account of a childhood experience. Someone else would chime in. Perhaps some huge anger would build inside me and flood out.
But that didn't happen. What I did realize was how I had come to accept the level of fear in my life as ordinary. It had become so ingrained- of course I felt frightened when I stopped along Interstate 35 one afternoon to investigate a designated scenic view. Of course I clutch my rape whistle and keys between my knuckles as I walk down Dodge Street. Of course men I'm close to will occasionally horrify me with their sexism ("I want to crush your hips," someone told me recently. I yelled at him.)

For one night, I wasn't afraid or horrified. I felt, instead, overwhelming power and security as we left the park to march downtown. Three abreast, we banged and clanged our bells and pot lids, chanting, "Women unite. Take back the night!" For once, I was able to walk through the Pentacrest at 10 on a Saturday night, and not feel nervous, to sing defiantly in the middle of a dark alley.
But that was just one night. What next?
Man have been asking that all week. They couldn't understand a rally for something intangible. Did we want more street lights? Where? How many? Did we want to educate people? Then why exclude men? 
The rally gave us  a chance to share feelings and feel strong and safe as women. It was phase one. I admit it was an imperfect phase one. Some men felt excluded. I'm upset that three men and two women filed complaints with the police about being refused entry or being removed from the park. A DI reported said  women assaulted him and threw him out of the park.
What happens next is open. Men can meet, as 14 did Saturday night at the Iowa Memorial Union, to share their feelings. Both genders can meet together, can educate themselves and work against violence. Women can gather the courage to confront sexism in our ordinary days.
For dark streets are merely the most obvious places we are not powerful. We still make 59 cents to a man's dollar. We're struggling to make our voices heard in boardrooms and classrooms. As we sang on Saturday, in a song by Peggy Seeger, "Reclaim the night and win the day."

-Sandy Wisenberg
Wisenberg is a graduate student in the UI Writers' Workshop. Her column appears every Monday.