The rape of our freedom

I walk in at home, happy and relaxed after a weekend in Gozo.

When my mum sees me she gives me a worried look and says: "Have you heard about the beating and rape of a 55-year old woman in St Anne Street, Floriana? It happened at six this morning."

I try to look unconcerned.

I know why she tells me this. I do lots of things on my own, such as running, sometimes in the early hours of the morning, sometimes at night after work.

But I am concerned. I have been harassed a number of times myself while simply walking along a road in broad daylight.

Once, in Birkirkara, two jerks, part of a larger gang, decided to slap me on my back and then hang their arms around my neck. Though I managed to get away unhurt, I was scared stiff. I made a report to the police; they were very nice to me and even accompanied me to try and find the culprits to give them a good telling off, but they could not really do anything, especially since they had no evidence that I was physically hurt.

So what are we waiting for? For these guys to get hold of the next victim and maybe really hurt her this time?

Luckily enough, whenever I was harassed I never really got hurt, but I dread the day may come, and I would end up like many other women who have already been, like the Floriana woman.

We have wardens who book people for traffic offences. Can we have some form of wardens who make sure that the roads are safe, not only for women, but even for our children and even some men? You never see that many policemen around today, do you?

I feel that with each harassment I experience or hear about, my freedom is decreasing, and my sense of frustration increasing.

I am truly sorry for the Floriana woman. I can imagine not only the physical but also the mental pain she is going through.

I would love to tell her not to let this incident destroy her life because were she to feel that way, that would be the greatest satisfaction her assailant would achieve.

She should fight for her right to live in a safe environment.