TRAVELING WHILE FEMALE by BARBARA O’NEAL

LUCY BURDETTE: I am always so happy to welcome writer Barbara O’Neal to the blog—and even happier that her newest book, A THOUSAND PAINTED HOURS, will be published in August. (I have already pre-ordered.) She has some interesting thoughts today on traveling as a single woman…

BARBARA O’NEAL: Last night, I was on a fairly empty train rather late, at the SFO airport. It was grim lighting, that tungsten glow that makes everything seedy.

It occurred to me with some surprise that I wasn’t worried about it. As a young woman, I would have been looking over my shoulder, checking for men who might be dangerous. Constantly. I am still aware—I’m not a fool; I can still be pickpocketed or mugged—but this is no longer an overarching, constant, tense, alert worry. I walk through the world like a man. At ease. Sure. Because I have crossed into the blessed territory of invisibility.

What a delight.

Eating dinner at the airport food court, I saw a young man pass, staring at a very young woman at a table in front of me. She was eating. Her hair was a little messy from travel. She didn’t notice him, but he walked twenty feet staring at her so obviously that it irritated me. I wanted to stand up and whack him with my purse. Keep walking, bud.

I remembered when it was me worrying about the unwanted attention of some random guy, finding a place to sit between an old woman and a mother with a child so the strange man couldn’t sit near me.

My son, age 25 or so, talked about going out to the New York clubs with a small group of women. One was very fearful, jumping at shadows, worried about alleyways and knots of guys on the street. Her friend said, “Don’t worry, Ian is with us. No one will mess with us.”

He said, recounting that story to me later, “I had no idea women worry about this all the time. All. The. Time. Did you know?”

Um, yes, son. I did.

I’m taking my granddaughter to Japan next month. She’s 14 and leggy and eccentric, with a wild head of hair that draws the longing gaze of white women (“I love your hair”) but also the meanness of boys at middle school. I feel some sense of relief about the safety of that country, but I also know I will be instructing her constantly, quietly, on how to be female while traveling. I want her to be mighty. And safe.

I honestly worry less about this one than her younger sister. My wild-haired girl is fierce and knows her own mind. She’s the girl other kids ran to when they were being bullied. Her sister is pliant and a pleaser and very pretty in that way some males want to claim—if it is beautiful, it is mine. We will go somewhere, too, in a couple of years. She longs for Germany, which she visited a couple of years ago. I will instruct her carefully.

I wish this was not necessary. I wish I had not spent 40 years sizing up every space I walked through. I traveled anyway, but often I was nervous.

Now I stride through the world like a white man, able to occupy any space without apology or fear. I just wish my granddaughters could begin here, instead of waiting decades to age into it. 

Readers, do you worry when you’re traveling or otherwise out of your element?

More from Lucy, Barbara has some news for the upcoming A Thousand Painted Hours: If you would like a signed copy, you can order one now, and we have some very special things that go along with it. The first is a giveaway of an original piece of collage art I created to commemorate the book. One golden ticket in the books will win the original art.

To order a signed copy, visit Author, Author

You can also pre-order all the other versions—kindle, hardcover ($2 off if you order now), paperback or audio, which is going to be especially fantastic this time. I’ve heard the clips from my narrator and I am so very excited. Pre-orders really help visibility of a book, so I appreciate any help in that direction.