On commuting and looking like one has a vagina

I had a frustrating time commuting today. From Shangri-La Mall, the driver refused to take me to my dorm along Aurora Boulevard because the whole boulevard was allegedly closed down for shooting some scenes in the next Bourne film. I was taken instead to Cubao, where I had to take the LRT to Centerpoint, and then walk my way home. I had all my valuables with me, and this very laptop that I am using now to type this. I arrived home safe, but with significantly less money, more physical exhaustion than necessary, and through means that are less than ideal.

The frustrating part of it is, as I walked along Aurora Boulevard lugging my heavy-ass laptop using the might of my sturdy left deltoid, I saw no traffic, no cameras and standbys, and most certainly no sign of Rachel Weisz. Apparently the closure of the boulevard starts tomorrow. I was tricked by the cabman, who insisted that he did not want to go there again because traffic wasn’t moving secondary to the shooting. I had absolutely no clue why the driver would have done that, unless he really made a mistake… or he was up to something funky.  

And so I exposed my nubile young self to the harsh, dimly-lit streets of this city for nothing. Not that I wasn’t already risking it by taking a cab alone, or not that seeing Rachel Weisz near my school would have improved my condition. Commuting in this country is very dangerous business, especially in cities. Especially in this city. You hear horror stories in the news and through instructional e-mails (which I have access to thanks to my worried dad and those equally worried father-friends of his who forward those e-mails to him). These things preach about the danger of being such a young woman with long, wonderful hair and an ATM card, walking along the streets or mindlessly taking public transportation and then ending up raped, dead, without cash, lost, and missing the parts of their recent recall that would have explained how they ended up in such a sad, sorry state. 

I’m not saying those things are fiction or merely scare-tactics to keep us home and to keep our fathers secure. Nope, I know people who actually have stories. One story I know had the person ending up in a hospital because of stab wounds. And despite different locations, times of the day, or purpose for taking public transportation, these people have one thing in common: all of them are women, and all of them were alone during the time. It’s annoying that being of the allegedly physically-weaker sex makes you a target. And I don’t think that it’s something that will change any time soon. No matter how I try to look at it, a criminal will always assume that a young woman with a bag is an easy target with good returns. 

So, tough luck for me. Much as I would try to avoid it, there will be situations where there is no choice for me but to travel alone. And while it’s always more prudent to carry the least amount of valuables with me, I will always have to bring the minimum amount (phones + cash) for me to function. Ergo I will always have to live in constant fear of being mugged, raped, or killed as I try to get from one safe place to another. There’s nothing much I can do about that, short of traveling like a hobo and having sex-reassignment surgery.

I suppose then, the responsibility for making the city safer for commuting shouldn’t rely on girls being more careful. There’s nothing wrong with being careful, of course, but in situations such as that when I had no choice but to go home in an unsafe way, there must be another way, shouldn’t there? Why can’t this city be more secure? Why does it have to be so dangerous walking at night? And why can’t I travel alone without feeling so insecure?

What I’m asking for is huge, I guess. I’m asking for safer streets, safer means of transportation, more security care of the local police, kinder people, less crime, and a Rachel Weisz sighting. And I really have no clue on where to start getting there. Tough bananas. All I could think of right now is that I need lots of money and a politician friend to get there. Which sounds like a bad start for the future.