Take women's safety seriously

A few years ago, I was sitting on the "L" when I noticed a man near me clearly masturbating in his sweat pants with his eyes deadlocked on my chest.

Panicked, I jumped off the train five stations before my stop. I felt violated and scared-but also kind of initiated to the "big city." This was what my mother warned me about; this was part of being a woman in Chicago.

But I also felt this creeping kind of shame. Despite knowing that some dude jacking off on the train had nothing to do with me, I kept asking myself what I did wrong. Should my neckline have been higher? Should I have had a male chaperone? Should I make sure I'm deadbolted into my studio before dusk? I mean, early bird specials are kind of sweet.

A few weeks later I told my friends about the guy. "Maybe he was just, like, scratching his balls," my guy friends offered (perhaps wishfully). I assured them that I knew the difference between a ball scratch and a vigorous yank. My lady friends backed me up and started to volunteer their own stories of CTA creepiness.

There were stories of hands up skirts on crowded trains; of men licking their lips and whispering sexual positions on the bus; and, yes, of men beating it on the CTA. After each story, there was also a similar feeling of shame, powerlessness and this need for constant vigilance lest you be at fault for "your rape."

As Chicago comedian Ever Mainard explains in a memorable joke, every woman has that moment on the "L," walking home or waiting for a bus when they see someone suspicious and think, "Welp this is it. This is my rape."

It is one of those tragically truthful jokes that hit home for me this summer when a woman was beaten and sexually assaulted in Humboldt Park waiting for the bus. Like many Chicago women, I immediately thought, that could have been me. I take that bus often. I'm usually alone. That could have been my rape.

But more than being frightened, I was frustrated by the same illogical advice being doled out to women to "protect themselves," such as the ridiculous suggestion, "Don't take the CTA alone at night."

I get the value of self-defense, but it is insane to think we can stop sexual assault by telling women to stop getting raped. It is unrealistic and unfair to ask women to hide when the sun goes down. We deserve better than fear and keys between our knuckles. As a city we can do better than this.

It goes beyond just catching and prosecuting rapists, which luckily the police did with the Humboldt Park case. It means we need to change our attitude.

Instead of asking women to "protect themselves," we need to end rape culture: the mentality that makes women's bodies public property, things to be commented on, touched and violated in public.

It's a pretty basic switch from "women need to carry mace" to "dude, not cool to touch your junk or my junk on the train."

We can stop rape culture by speaking up and by changing our own behavior. Report that guy on the train, stop that obnoxious catcalling, and never, EVER ask, "Well, what was she wearing?"

We have the power to end rape culture so that women on the "L" never think again "Well, here's my rape."

Niki Fritz is a RedEye special contributor.