And so begins the third week of searching. Three weeks ago, a 20-year-old IU student disappeared while walking home alone around 4:30 am down in Bloomington. She was out partying with friends and never made it home. It has been all over the news and the press conference updates are more and more heartbreaking every day. Watching this girl's parents stand up and beg for whoever knows where their daughter is to please bring her back to them is absolutely crushing. I am no parent myself, but I only hope to never have to experience the panic, fear and helplessness that must come with a loved one vanishing overnight.
As a 23-year-old girl, I am all too familiar with the perils that come with being a young woman in this world these days. The fact that you can never trust a stranger to buy you a drink without wondering if he's going to try to slip you something when you're not looking. The irritating reality that if you're a girl, and you're walking alone, there's a pretty significant chance that it could turn out badly for you unless you've got pepper spray handy... or mad boxing skills.
I've always been incredibly independent. To this day, one of the coolest things I've ever done was take a solo trip to Lake Como for a long weekend while I studied abroad. I think it's really important for a girl to do things solo every now and then. But along with that belief comes the frustrating understanding that sometimes doing things solo is just plain dangerous.
Take this week for example: I finally busted out my hideously green but perfectly functional new bicycle and went for a 16-mile ride on Tuesday. It didn't occur to me that I should have to have someone to ride with me. I mean, why should I? I'm 23 years old for God's sake. And it was fantastic. Of course I got a lecture from my dad when I called to brag about my bike adventure, but whatever. It just isn't reasonable to expect for someone to go with me every time I want to rollerblade or bike on the Monon. But then yesterday, some 16-year-old kid wanted a 56-year-old man's wallet and shoots him as he was walking home from work along that same stretch of the trail. At 4:30 in the freaking afternoon. Are you kidding me?! Thank you, you selfish, stupid teenager, for making it even more difficult to convince my parents that I should in fact be able to exercise by myself outside in broad daylight.
Seriously though... I am constantly conflicted by the reality that the world can be a pretty scary place, and the contrasting fact that it is not reasonable to go through each day expecting every single person who passes me on the street is going to hold me at gun point for my wallet or try to sneak into my window when I'm sleeping. I get it. Bad things don't just happen at night. But how annoying is it that we have to worry about things like this?!
I guess it's the stubborn side of me that refuses to believe that the world is scary enough a place that we shouldn't be able to get from point A to point B without fearing for our lives. But Lauren's disappearance has brought the reality of it all to light: You never know what's waiting for you when you step out into the world every morning. You never know, not really anyway, if you're going to have another night at home in the comfort of your own bed. You can't plan for losing a parent to a heart attack on a Tuesday afternoon or a car accident that leaves a friend in a coma for six weeks. And it's probably better that way. Not knowing, while it can be a scary thing, is also liberating. And in my opinion, it's absolutely essential if we ever hope to live a normal life.
So I guess I'm just going to need to work on my boxing skills? Though I may just have to settle with purchasing some Mace.
As a 23-year-old girl, I am all too familiar with the perils that come with being a young woman in this world these days. The fact that you can never trust a stranger to buy you a drink without wondering if he's going to try to slip you something when you're not looking. The irritating reality that if you're a girl, and you're walking alone, there's a pretty significant chance that it could turn out badly for you unless you've got pepper spray handy... or mad boxing skills.
I've always been incredibly independent. To this day, one of the coolest things I've ever done was take a solo trip to Lake Como for a long weekend while I studied abroad. I think it's really important for a girl to do things solo every now and then. But along with that belief comes the frustrating understanding that sometimes doing things solo is just plain dangerous.
Take this week for example: I finally busted out my hideously green but perfectly functional new bicycle and went for a 16-mile ride on Tuesday. It didn't occur to me that I should have to have someone to ride with me. I mean, why should I? I'm 23 years old for God's sake. And it was fantastic. Of course I got a lecture from my dad when I called to brag about my bike adventure, but whatever. It just isn't reasonable to expect for someone to go with me every time I want to rollerblade or bike on the Monon. But then yesterday, some 16-year-old kid wanted a 56-year-old man's wallet and shoots him as he was walking home from work along that same stretch of the trail. At 4:30 in the freaking afternoon. Are you kidding me?! Thank you, you selfish, stupid teenager, for making it even more difficult to convince my parents that I should in fact be able to exercise by myself outside in broad daylight.
Seriously though... I am constantly conflicted by the reality that the world can be a pretty scary place, and the contrasting fact that it is not reasonable to go through each day expecting every single person who passes me on the street is going to hold me at gun point for my wallet or try to sneak into my window when I'm sleeping. I get it. Bad things don't just happen at night. But how annoying is it that we have to worry about things like this?!
I guess it's the stubborn side of me that refuses to believe that the world is scary enough a place that we shouldn't be able to get from point A to point B without fearing for our lives. But Lauren's disappearance has brought the reality of it all to light: You never know what's waiting for you when you step out into the world every morning. You never know, not really anyway, if you're going to have another night at home in the comfort of your own bed. You can't plan for losing a parent to a heart attack on a Tuesday afternoon or a car accident that leaves a friend in a coma for six weeks. And it's probably better that way. Not knowing, while it can be a scary thing, is also liberating. And in my opinion, it's absolutely essential if we ever hope to live a normal life.
So I guess I'm just going to need to work on my boxing skills? Though I may just have to settle with purchasing some Mace.
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