Sarah Everard: Before the Change, Comes the Power to Feel
I could see it from a mile off. Nearly a hundred people huddled in a circle. I walked towards everyone. A medley of yellows and fuchsias brimming with Spring. A glowing halo of bouquets adorned the concrete. Grief hung in the air but the sun swept gently over the Clapham Common Bandstand.
~
Clapham Common had always been known to me as a place of endless joy. A place for warm summer picnics, evening strolls and dates lounging in the grass. This image no longer held space in my mind.
Sarah Everard was a young woman that went missing near Clapham Common on the 3rd March 2021. I started to notice the flyers all around the Common. Posters stuck to every lamppost, bench and signpost.
I couldn't go near the Common for several days. I no longer felt at ease to walk around with my headphones in, sunk into a podcast. I felt that I had to remain alert, even during the day. Alert for anything. Standing on an empty crisp packet made me jump. I was to watch where I was putting my feet, watching my step so that I could get home safely. This was how my brain worked after it all.
Eventually, a few days after the Vigil had officially taken place, I took myself on a walk. I had some daffodils that I wanted to place by the bandstand. Really, I wanted to do it in peace, without anyone looking as I stepped forward to place them on the ground. But, there was an odd sense of unity. There were women of all ages at the bandstand. Women from all parts of the world, from every corner of London. This was something that was felt by everyone.
As I stepped forward to lay the flowers down, it began to rain. I couldn't stay too long. Not because I had somewhere else to be, I just couldn't be there. Being at the bandstand felt like I was attending the funeral of a friend.
As I turned around to leave, I watched a young woman sat on the bench. She had a small bouquet laying on her skirt and was tying it together with a light pink ribbon. She gently tugged the ribbon into place, to hold the flowers together. I found it a beautiful thing to watch. Women had come here to grace the hard, grey concrete with flowers. I saw such love and care.
~
The reaction to Sarah’s disappearance was astonishing. There was a global uproar. For days, my social media was flooded with anything and everything related to it. Opinions, tips for women walking home and new ‘safety’ rules crawled out of the cracks. Fear plays a monumental role in our lives as humans. It also plays a role as a young woman. These safety tips were not new to me. Instead, they made me more scared. An event as close to home as this simply accelerated my fear.
I let myself feel this fear following Sarah’s disappearance. It was an emotion I just had to sit with. Like many of us. But, it only grew worse after her death was confirmed.
Women should be able to feel this sadness without being forced into an immediate mode of activism if we choose not to talk about it online. Perhaps, it is women that demand it of themselves, for posting online can act as a signal of support and solidarity. The idea sometimes exists that if you don’t post about it, it doesn’t affect you. But, it is also enough just to feel the weight of this event. I ask that we accept what this incident means for every individual, for every woman.
~
I went on a walk with one of my friends a week after Sarah’s disappearance. We had not yet discussed it, but I could sense it was at the forefront of our minds. Eventually, I said how close it was to home. She turned to me and said ‘Yes, I’ve been thinking of you lots’. Her words were more comforting than any text, or online post I had seen that entire week. She listened as I told her how scared and upset I was after Sarah’s disappearance. She did not judge me for feeling like this.
She offered to drive me home. It was a way of looking out for each other that is so common and understood between women. It is heart-warming and immensely precious. It filled me with hope and stability in what was a dark few days.
During our walk we chatted about all the times the men in our lives had walked us home. Fathers, brothers, boyfriends, friends, friends of friends, colleagues. Even after long nights, arguments or petty moods, most of these men offered to walk us home. I realised how lucky I was to experience this. I also realised, how my daily route home had become something that I needed ‘protecting’ from.
I have walked the route home towards Clapham Common an infinite amount of times. Clambering up the hill after a heavy dinner at the pub or strolling back from a mates house. A tragedy like this has made me even more grateful to the men - or women - in my life that have walked me home. I thank you. I shouldn't have to, because it should be a normal thing for me to get home safely. But, I thank you either way.
There is still a lot of progress to be made. I wish that women deal with this tragedy however they choose to. Let us decide, how to feel and how to take the next step forward. Let us ask to be walked home at night or let us rage about it on Instagram if that feels right. One step after the other. Simply, let us be quiet, mourning the loss of another woman in a scenario that could have been any of us.
~
I walked back from the Clapham Common vigil under the gentle midday rain.
I didn’t want to walk the path back to my home alone.
I pressed play on my phone, the song was irrelevant.
I simply wanted to have some company, to guide me down a path I no longer felt home and safe in. Sarah was merely following the path she had taken many times before. We all have.
Morning Sun by Melody Gardot started to play. It is a mellow song with smooth percussion and gentle piano. But, none of this stood out to me as much as the words that she sang.
‘There’s a light at the end of the tunnel
We can be worry-free’.
These words carried me down the path and showed me that there might be hope for women everywhere - to walk safely through the streets.
Written by India Horner
I’m an undergraduate European Politics and Spanish student at Kings College London. Writing has always been my safe haven from the wild world we are living in. I wish to enter a world of journalism and speak up about critical issues such as climate change, gender equality and human rights.
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