On Patronizing Concern: Walking Home

When it’s just the last word in a conversation, it’s barely remarkable. It’s a nicety. It’s part of a familiar call and response. It’s a thing people maybe feel like they’re supposed to say.

Have a good night. Get home safe.

I’ve lived in Oakland, California for eight years. Yeah, as a city, our crime rates are generally non-great. (I could link to data, but this breathless article from a local news channel is more exciting). I’m totally aware of this. But I also know why I love living here: music, food, progressive politics. People here are friendly — we thank our bus drivers. I’m proud to live in Oakland, and I want to earn the privilege of calling it my adopted home.

So I find it puzzling… frustrating… patronizing when people worry at me for walking home.

A Day in Walking Home Alone

I took a bus to meet my friend for dinner last night. Leaving, she insisted, quite assertively, that because her friend had been robbed in broad daylight somewhere nearby earlier that week, that I take a Lyft home. She stood on her second floor balcony watching me until my ride arrived.

I split the Lyft with another person, who ended up getting dropped off a block from my place. A block. Forgetting this was a fixed price trip, or treating it like any other ride from a friend, I told the driver I could hop out, too and walk the rest of the way. The driver flipped out. She wasn’t from Oakland, so I assumed she thought this was a “bad neighborhood”. For some reason I strongly wanted her to think otherwise. I told her it didn’t matter, that I’d be walking this same block with my dog in a minute. She told me that I didn’t have a dog with me now, and that something would happen to me, and it would be on her conscience. I didn’t know how to say how much she was overestimating my dog’s ability to intimidate.

Do I look frail?

I’m 5'8", aware of my surroundings, and thus far probably also a little lucky. But is “dangerous” all people see about my community, my home? Do they think so little of me that either I don’t see it, or I’m too naive to take it seriously?

This form of patronizing, at least in the examples above, didn’t come from the mouths of men. Is there a lady-code I’m not appreciating here — we’re looking out for each other, because we know how tough it can be out there. But do I really need a reminder that shit can be bad?

How about, as a general practice, we don’t tell people, directly or indirectly, to feel unsafe in their homes? We let everyone come up with the combination of caution and empathy they need to get by?

Next time I visit friends in a quiet suburb, I should try departing with “Don’t get depressed living all the way out here, surrounded by people just like you, people that gossip about you relentlessly because there’s nothing better to do out here! Good night!”