Sleeping on the Metro-North entering a rough reality
I’m a New York City commuter and the Harlem line is my safe place.
Growing up an hour outside New York City, I always hoped I would go to school or find work in Manhattan. I’m living that dream now, but the reality that violence against women is increasing in the city makes me more fearful than excited to actually live out these dreams.
Let me paint the picture for you: It’s a Monday morning, just before 9 a.m. and I only slept five hours the night before. I have to start my commute to Grand Central Terminal from my childhood home in Westchester County. I’ll drive just a few minutes on the Taconic State Parkway to the North White Plains train station, jump on the Metro-North Railroad to the land of tourists before taking a 6 train downtown to Astor Place.
Despite my textbook terrible sleeping patterns I always manage to wake up early enough for a workout and get myself on the train looking somewhat presentable. But by the time I settle myself into a blue and teal-ish vinyl aisle seat facing south, I’m just about ready for an early morning power nap.
I’ll sleep for a half hour and boom, my body clock wakes me right as we start to pull into the tunnel. I feel recharged and well rested.
But I would never do this on the subway. On the subway I am scared.
Don’t look up. But don’t look too far down either. Look out. Ears open.
Look for a nice young woman. Make slight eye contact, could she help me in an emergency?
Don’t react.
Sit away from people, I think to myself. Actually, just stand, too bad if your feet hurt and legs are tired. It’s easier to move that way.
My newfound status as a commuter has made me awfully aware that I am a small woman. I commute alone, which leaves a lot of time for just me and my thoughts—to worry about everything. I often wonder, am I an easy target? I try not to show it on my face. My mother, in her twenties, commuted to Chelsea when she attended the Fashion Institute of Technology and before I took on the commuter girl persona, she briefed me on all the expected safety tips a mother is meant to tell you.
Don’t look down, but also, don’t make eye contact.
Hold on to your bags. Don’t play your music too loud so you can hear what’s going on around you.
Always pay attention. When you think you’re paying attention, pay even more attention. Have eyes at the back of your head, and the side.
Throughout April, young women like me have shared their stories on TikTok of what appeared to be a pattern of random violence across the city, and I found myself no longer excited to travel down to my classes. I frantically texted my mom in panic, as friends from college sent me video after video about young women getting punched on the streets.
Rising concerns about the prevalence of violence against women in New York City have escalated in recent years, bringing attention to the dire need for enhanced safety measures. Reports of assaults, harassments and violent deaths have highlighted the vulnerability faced by women in public spaces, making the case for more action from authorities. Is Gov. Kathy Hochul’s deployment of state troopers and National Guard members in the subway system really works? I feel like I’m hearing about more attacks than usual, but why are these bad guys not being stopped? Every time I see a police officer on the subway platform, they’re not doing anything notable.
Fear will always be present. I have control, not total control, but some control in these situations. How I react and how I prepare myself are conscious choices. If I live in fear, I’ll never live at all.
The thought for some about a commute to New York City feels like the plot to a scary movie. My best friend and grandpa tell me weekly how much my journey to the city scares them. But the commute itself really isn’t too bad. The Harlem Line has become another home for me—it knows me well by now. Those vinyl seats have seen me happy and excited, defeated holding back tears, and after a few too many drinks.
Despite alarming trends within the city, the Metro-North Railroad stands out of a beacon of safety for female commuters, like me. The stations, in my opinion, are well-lit and have pretty solid security in place to reassure passengers. This stark contrast between the safety of the Metro-North and the heightened risks across the city underscores the importance of prioritizing safety measures and implementing effective strategies to combat violence against women. I’ve only seen one fight, if you can call it that, between passengers on the Harlem Line. Two women sat across from me, and the older one didn’t like the pace in which the younger one moved over to open up a free spot. They squabble for the next 40 minutes. The conductor stood by, observant but silent. And that was that.
Sometimes the people who sit around me on my morning commute will strike up conversation when I take out my laptop, it’s nice to have a friendly face around. Then when I choose to rest my head in my hand on the armrest of the vinyl seats, I feel like I have watchdogs in the big finance bros that take up most of my train.
Once I make it to 20 Cooper Square I feel safe again. I’m in my dream program, at my dream school, New York University. But I sit in class and wonder if the commute back home will feel safe. So, I’ll take it day by day, and get by with a quick slumber on the Metro-North, of course.