Girl on the bus
Juliette Marie
Both alone at the bus stop
Late one cold, dark night.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him
He lingers
Back and forth
Chest tightens, senses heightened
Is he a threat? Should I be scared?
Are you going to be okay?
I stay vigilant, monitoring his every move
Headphones on but I hear no music
He inches closer
So do I
There's strength in numbers... right?
Both up against an unpredictable force.
An eternity later, the bus finally arrives
I sit next to you and ask, "are you okay?"
"I'm used to it."
In that instant, a bond is forged
Yes. I understand.
Solidarity, love, anger, and such profound sadness takes over me.
I understand.
You get off before me, keys between your fingers,
Not before we exchange our 'top tips'
"I pretend I'm on the phone"
"I check shadows and reflections in cars and windows to see if I'm being followed"
"I wear headphones without music"
"Oh! Me too!"
We exchange the three words: "get home safe", without even exchanging names.
(One matters more).
One last look before you go.
The rest of the ride, I worry. Did you make it?
"Get home safe!"
Not all of us do.
Art: © Juliette Marie
On ‘Girl on the bus’
This poem is a reflection upon both the weight and power that three simple words - “get home safe” - have to those who don’t feel safe alone at night; for whom the city and public space doesn’t belong to and isn’t made for. Women are always hyper-aware that getting home safe at night is not always guaranteed due to high rates of harassment and sexual assault. A 2020 study by Amnesty Belgium revealed that 1 in 5 women in Belgium have been raped and that 1 in 4 women experienced sexual harassment in a public place. This poem depicts a moment of solidarity forged between two women at a bus stop in Brussels who do not know each other and may never meet again. Looking back on this interaction, I often reflect upon the power of women and girls, and how looking out for one another is our survival strategy. We keep each other safe.
The art accompanying this poem is courtesy of © Juliette Marie