This is the story of my life—a life I had just stepped into, but couldn’t remain in for long. I got my first job recently. Remember your first job? How liberating it must have felt. It comes with so many hopes, hopes of finally being free. There’s a unique kind of freedom that comes with earning your own money. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a lot or just a little; what matters is that it’s yours.
But I lost that job within just 23 days. Not because I was fired or asked to resign, but because I chose to leave. The workplace felt deeply unsafe, and I couldn’t continue. It made me reflect: how many times, and in how many ways, must a woman negotiate for her safety? It almost feels like safety is something we’re expected to compromise on. People suggest it’s normal to feel unsafe in a new environment and that perhaps you should just endure it—stay for a year, adjust, and then decide.
But should I really negotiate my safety for a year? Should I compromise on something so fundamental, just because this job promises a particular kind of freedom—freedom I couldn’t access within my own home because I wasn’t financially independent? And now, when I finally take that step towards independence, I find that I can’t even access freedom in the outside world, because I don’t feel safe. How is a woman supposed to navigate this?
People often don’t realize what a privilege it is to stay in a job without fearing for your safety, whether it’s in the office or in the unfamiliar city you’ve moved to for work. Those who don’t have to think twice about these things, about whether a city is safe to live in, whether an office environment is threatening, carry an invisible privilege.
To be able to earn money, to feel the joy of your first salary, to experience the liberty and self-worth that comes with it, without that being disrupted by fear, is a privilege. And I lost that privilege, not because I lacked the skills or the willingness to work, but because I didn’t feel safe enough to stay.
