Just one of those things.

Women carry their trauma, as just another one of those things. We are told not to react or process or feel the hurt when we are catcalled, when we are groped and when we are abducted, raped and murdered. It’s just one of those things, those hazards of being alive and female.

Just one of those things; like when you crack your phone screen when it only drops two centimetres from the floor. Or when you spill ketchup on your favourite pair of leggings. Or when your cat knocks over your favourite vase. Or when you run out of toothpaste as you go to brush your teeth before bed.

Just one of those things, those quirky little inconveniences that foil a plan or change the course of the day but ultimately you survive unscathed but for say a mild vexation at the turn of events. Just one of those things, that you can’t explain or change or do anything about except from shrug it off with a sigh of “oh well” and move along with a problem solving task. Because to dwell on one of those things would be daft, and get you nowhere; you’d be hysterical, too sensitive and a drama queen. And life isn’t kind to those of us who are easily hurt.

Women are encouraged to carry trauma of past grievances as just one of those things. Being catcalled, heckled, hassled, cajoled, intimidated, bothered, harassed, threatened, beaten, raped, murdered… just one of those things right? We even get adverts on our social media for rape alarms, a little box to put all our traumas and fears into; don’t worry this little box with the shrill whine will keep baddies at bay and send swift rescuers. So everything is OK.

Except it isn’t.

This morning I received a handwritten letter, posted through my front door, from a person claiming to know who I am, my address and my previous place of work. In addition, he admits to following me and looking up my information on the Internet. He admits to infatuation with me, a complete stranger. The language he uses is threatening, sinister and obsessive. In what world is this acceptable behaviour? This is not just “one of those things”. This is unsolicited attention, from an entitled male who feels his opinion simply must be expressed to a female who no doubt he hopes will swoon in gratitude at validation from this oh so generous male gaze.

It is not up for discussion what his intent was, quite frankly I do not, as a single female, have the luxury of wondering if “oh maybe he was harmless”. It is unacceptable, it is harassing and it is frightening. The Crown Prosecution Service defines the liability for stalking and harassment as the person “ought to know” that it will alarm the recipient. There is no doubt that a male person ought to know what this action would mean to a female. To invade my home, my place of safety, with such obsessive and unsettling messages, removes ant semblance of sanctuary my home should provide.

Today I have not been able to do my work, I have not been able to leave the house and I have not been able to do basic household tasks because I am distressed and frustrated. I feel that I have immediately been made a prisoner in my own home, and what is worse I feel the stigma and inertia to act upon this person’s threats, as women are taught to consider the other before themselves. Always.

This is not “just one of those things”, this is a dangerous position to be in while simply trying to live my life and go about my day.

Today I wanted to go for a run, now I feel trapped.

Today I wanted to go for a walk, now I feel trapped.

Today I had clients, I cancelled them because I was too anxious.

Today I had laundry to wash, I have let it sit in a pile.

Today I had food to cook, I have not eaten because the kitchen faces the street.

Today I feel upset about my clothing and hair, and want to change them.

Today is not “just one of those days”, this is not “just one of those things”.

Because it only takes just one man.