If You Want to Know Why Women Feel Unsafe Running, Start Here...

A man once joked on social media about ‘playing sniper in the undergrowth’ as our women’s running group ran by.

If you want to understand why women feel unsafe running, let’s start here.

This comment wasn’t said to our faces. It wasn’t shouted from a van window accompanied by excited hand gestures or animal noises.

It was casually typed in a comment thread, a bit of “humour,” accompanied with a smiley emoji to reinforce the entertaining storyline.

Lighten up… it’s a joke; I didn’t really mean it.

But what seems to be missing from the conversation is how accumulatively exhausting all this “joking” and “banter” is.

Each harmless remark or playful comment contributes to a persistent sense of unease, that gradually wears down our ability to simply enjoy running.

The “friendly advice” shouted across the road “If you stopped talking, you’d run faster!”

The group of teenagers who pause their conversation as our group run towards them, the slightly slower clap, the too-long eye contact, the exaggerated “Well done ladies! Nearly there!”

It’s very subtle this blurred line between genuine encouragement and an underlying sarcasm that I often find difficult to navigate. Are they delivered with a smile or is the intent disguised - motivation or mockery?

And will someone please tell me what the criteria is that determines when an untimely joke becomes street harassment that becomes an act of Violence Against Women and Girls? Because I’m sick of my runs being ruined, my thoughts and conversations interrupted and my fear/anxiety/anger spiking.

Because f we can’t name it, how can we challenge it?

“Violence against women and girls (VAWG) is an umbrella term used to cover a wide range of abuse types that affect more women and girls than men and boys. These include domestic homicide, domestic abuse, sexual assault, abuse experienced as a child, female genital mutilation (FGM), forced marriage and harassment in work and public life.”

How is a tone of voice, a slow clap, or a van load of banter described? And who do I report it to?

And isn’t this the whole point? The whole system isn’t built to hold these smaller moments, even though they can shape the bigger picture.

The self-doubt I feel is reinforced by outdated safety campaigns urging us women and girls to remain perpetually vigilant to avoid harm: “Watch your drinks. Watch your friends. Watch out.” This burden of safety unfairly placed on our shoulders.

My runs have always been strategic, whether I’m running alone or with a group, turning what should be a simple activity into yet another mental task – risk assessing routes, wearing the “right” clothes - not too much on show, holding keys, no headphones, working out escape routes – these restrictions accumulate into a real loss, an inequality of not having the freedom to access public spaces. And I feel it. Everytime I spend 20 mins before a run dynamically risk assessing where I’m going.

This background hum of threat is low-level yet pervasive, because how often do we truly pause and join the dots between the slow clap of the teenage boys and the tangible price it puts on our ability to run freely, without fear, with true autonomy, where we want, when we want.

And the gender gap widens in this inequality, the men I know who run don’t have to think about any of this. That’s not a criticism; it’s context.

• 91% of women have changed their behaviour due to fear of harassment while running.
• Two-thirds (67%) of girls aged 14-21 in the UK take steps to avoid harassment, which includes avoiding exercise.
• Nearly three-quarters (72%) of women in the UK change their outdoor activity routines during the winter months, specifically citing safety concerns as it gets darker.
• A 2021 survey by Women’s Running found that 69% of women do not feel safe or adjust their behaviour when running in public, and 31% have considered stopping running altogether due to feeling unsafe.
• In one survey of women runners in North-West England, 68% had experienced some form of abuse while running, leading many to take safety precautions.

VAWG doesn’t appear out of nowhere, it grows in the same soil that minimises our gut instinct – because deep down we know that;
“It’s not just a joke.”
“I should make a fuss.”
“That I shouldn’t lighten up.”
“They did mean something by it.”

Most men aren’t violent but the silence, the dismissal, the minimalisation and normalisation create the conditions where disrespect thrives, ultimately making early intervention difficult.

The “White Ribbon Campaign” and “NO MORE” have raised awareness and encouraged bystander intervention at a national and international level but these are often fragmented and not widely available.

Yet I personally haven’t seen any awareness or acknowledgement of our safety filter down into our everyday lived reality of women who simply want to run in our streets. In fact, I’ve seen the opposite….

Fareham Borough Council reject White Ribbon Accreditation - June 2025

We often speak about the benefits of physical activity for health, wellbeing and community. And I’ve seen first-hand the confidence that running can bring to someone.

But I’ve also run enough miles to know that silence isn’t helping us, minimising isn’t helping us and laughing it all off is too much of a price to pay.

Let’s name it for what it is because conversations about women’s safety are finally shifting at every level locally, nationally, globally.

Campaigns like Safe Parks are beginning to ask the right questions:
• How do women actually feel in these spaces?
• What do they need?
• What makes a park feel safe at 9am and at 6pm?
• Who gets to decide what “safe enough” looks like?

If we want parks, pavements, and public spaces to feel safe for women and girls, then nothing is too small to talk about. Not the banter. Not the comments. Not the online “jokes.” Not the slow clap from a group of teenagers.

I don’t want a special route.
I don’t want rules.
I don’t want extra vigilance.
I want what every woman wants
the simple freedom to go for a run and be left alone.

I wonder what that feels like?
I hope one day I get to find out.