Content warning: In this post, I acknowledge the risk of sexual violence (but do not describe anything violent).

A couple of years ago, I stopped being able to leave my house alone at night. Even going out alone in the daytime was hard. If friends asked me to meet them somewhere and Devin couldn’t go with me to drop me off, I couldn’t go. If I took a yoga class that ended after sundown, I knew that all the relaxation I felt at the end of class would disappear the moment I walked outside to wait for the bus. I live in a place that gets dark at like 3 p.m. in the winter, so you can imagine how this complicated things for me.

My fear wasn’t triggered by anything specific. It felt more like the result of living with the fear of assault and harassment for decades, like I had spent all this time going out in spite of the fear I felt, and I just couldn’t anymore.

I felt ridiculous. It didn’t seem rational. I didn’t feel like I deserved to feel as afraid as I did. But I couldn’t shake it.

One day, I saw an email advertising an “empowerment self-defense” class. I had recently taken a pay cut to do a job I cared about, so I knew I couldn’t afford to take the class, but I signed up and applied for a scholarship, which, thankfully, I got.

The class was transformative for me. We met in a basement conference room and practiced legit self-defense moves like kicks and punches. (One of my favorite days was going to the parking lot and practicing how to resist getting stuffed into a car: pretend you are a cat who doesn’t want to take a bath, grab hold of the edges, and hang on. I didn’t think I could do it, and I did!)

But the important lessons of the class were much bigger. I learned to assert myself and take up space, to intervene and take control of situations instead of always reacting.

I like to joke that I won Most Improved Yell because when I started the class, I could hardly say “No” and by the end of class, I could project my voice so loudly that my classmates looked like the Edvard Munch scream emoji.

This morning, I got to pay back my scholarship by donating to the RCC’s annual fundraiser, which went virtual because of the pandemic. They delivered coffee and cake to all the attendees so it felt like more of a shared experience, and I loved hearing all the speakers express what the RCC has done for them.

I decided to write this post to share my appreciation and my story, in case any of you have ever felt this way, too. I think there are empowerment self-defense classes in lots of different cities, and I would encourage you to check one out if you can. And if you’d like to donate to the organization that leads the class I attended, here is the link for that.