The world tells us how to navigate life as women. We’re advised to stay in groups, request a security guard to escort us to our cars, and choose well-lit parking spots. We memorize instructions to walk home via busy streets, cross the road if someone approaches when we’re alone, and keep our keys at the ready like a weapon. Self-defense classes are recommended, teaching us to target vulnerable areas—eyes, neck, groin. We’re told to check under our cars and in the backseat before getting in, avoid running with headphones to remain aware of our surroundings, and wear bright clothing that keeps us visible, yet conservative enough to avoid unwanted attention. If we ever feel uneasy, we’re supposed to scream, run, and make noise. We fight fiercely to escape potential threats.
These guidelines are ingrained in us from a young age and persist throughout our lives—during our teenage years, in college, and even as we navigate our thirties, forties, and beyond. Regardless of age, attire, or the perceived safety of our surroundings, the fear of attack looms large. We continually remind ourselves to be vigilant. Yet, the harsh truth is that, even when we adhere to these precautions—dressing brightly, walking in well-lit areas, trying to be home early—it can all still go tragically wrong, as it did for Jessica Lang.
Her devastating and senseless murder has resonated across the U.K. and around the globe for this very reason. A young woman was brutally killed after doing “everything right”—except, of course, being alone at night. Because even in that scenario, the blame is somehow shifted onto her, as it is often the case for women. We tell ourselves that we have every right to walk home alone from a friend’s house without fearing for our lives. We shouldn’t have to band together for safety or prepare ourselves to fight for survival. Perhaps that’s what Jessica thought on that fateful night of March 3, but we will never truly know.
Yet, perhaps, this tragedy will not be in vain. Maybe we can finally pivot the conversation from what women must do to protect themselves, to addressing who is truly responsible. We need to focus on raising boys who understand that women are not obligated to welcome their advances. Boys who learn that women have the right to reject or ignore men without facing violent consequences.
For now, however, the discussion remains centered on Jessica—on her being alone, out at night, and the choices she made that led to this horrific fate. Women everywhere relate to her story because we have all walked home alone, feeling anxious, gripping our keys tightly, and sending a quick text to let someone know our whereabouts.
We walk alongside Jessica, as we are all her. A woman simply returning home from a friend’s house who didn’t deserve to die. Despite our best efforts to stay safe and our reassurances that “everything is fine,” the reality is that femicide—the murder of women by men—is on the rise. Consequently, the list of precautions we take will only continue to grow.
In a report released last November, the Femicide Census revealed that between 2009 and 2018, 1,425 women were killed in the U.K., averaging one every three days. Despite improved laws and awareness, the toll of fatal violence against women has remained stagnant for a decade, with the ongoing pandemic exacerbating the crisis.
It’s crucial to highlight that while Jessica’s death was tragic, the demographic most at risk of violence includes Black and trans women. We must also acknowledge the names of those like Mia Thompson, Tasha “Renee” Clark, and others who have faced similar fates. This year is already on track to be among the deadliest for Black trans women, with 2020 holding the record of 45 documented killings. However, many deaths go unreported and victims are often misgendered, indicating the true numbers are likely higher.
The violence faced by Black trans women is alarmingly high, often described as a “pandemic within a pandemic.” Reports indicate that last summer saw six Black trans women murdered within just nine days. The intersection of racism, sexism, homophobia, and transphobia plays a significant role in denying these women essential resources, including employment, healthcare, and safe housing.
Yet, the overarching narrative continues to focus on women’s behavior, their attire, or perceived recklessness, rather than addressing why these tragedies occur. Why are women held accountable for their own safety? The real issue lies not in what women wear or their decision to walk home alone, but in society’s compulsion to control women and the pervasive belief among some men that they are entitled to women’s attention.
Jessica Lang did nothing wrong. She deserved to live, just as much as Mia Thompson, Tasha “Renee” Clark, and countless others. They were all killed for simply existing or crossing paths with a man seeking to dominate.
The conversation should not revolve around “What more can women do to stay safe?” but rather “What can society do to raise men who respect women’s autonomy?” and “How can we combat the issues of racism and transphobia?” Until we address these fundamental questions, no amount of self-defense techniques or safety precautions will suffice when it comes to simply walking home.
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In summary, Jessica Lang’s tragic death exemplifies the ongoing violence women face and highlights the need for societal change. We must shift the focus from women’s actions to educating men about respect and consent, while also addressing the systemic issues of racism and transphobia that disproportionately affect marginalized groups.