12/ A girl walks alone at night
Once daylight is gone, the darkness wraps around me like a protective blanket
There’s something magical about walking in the dark. Even while feeling overly aware and anxious, I love being out once the sun has gone down – when the sky is a deep-ocean blue and the lights start to turn on, on streets and in homes. The warm, sulphuric glow is hypnotising against the dusk skies. The magic of blue hour. Even in the depths of the night, sometimes walking home after a late one is some of the nicest, quietest moments.
It’s a warring feeling. Night time is supposedly not “for us” as women, an unsafe time when we shouldn’t be out. It’s almost ironic considering how much of the night is associated with women – the moon and lunar cycle, the witching hour.
In a strange way, I sometimes feel safer – things that have happened to me have always been during the brightest daylight, blue-sky sunny afternoons, a crowded bus or a not-so-remote street. Once daylight is gone, the darkness wraps around me like a protective blanket; if I can’t see other people, they can’t see me either.
I love the stillness of the late hour, car lights flashing in the distance but the ceaseless grumble of traffic gone, gnarled tree branches stark against the glaring clinical street lights. Only the foxes around, an orange tail darting here and there, and perhaps one or two of the local cats padding up to me to say hello.
I started to go out at night during the height of the pandemic out of necessity – I was too worried about the number of people moving around during the daylight hours but needed the exercise and movement. So I began going for walks at dusk, and soon enough I went out later and later. Come winter that meant heading out at a relatively normal time, but walking in quiet woodlands and the local park still was a completely different experience in the dark. On some of those beautifully foggy midnights I absolutely couldn't resist, I invited my mum along to join me. A level of risk I wasn't prepared to experience alone, a line I wasn't ready to cross.
I don’t really have anything to "declare" with this post, only wanting to get my thoughts down about walking at night – and perhaps share my wish that it was easier and less risky to do so.
Note: The title of this post is inspired by Ana Lily Amirpour’s film ‘A girl walks home alone at night’. All photography by me.
Bookmarks
'Der Blaue Weiher (The Blue Pond)' by Hugo Henneberg
‘A Wild Tree Toward the North’ by Amina Khan: “With our tea growing cold in Wedgwood china, I find myself telling her about the Islamic presence in the Romantic movement. I tell her how Byron had once said that the Qur’an ‘contains the most sublime poetical passages far surpassing European poetry,’ how he described the Muslim call to prayer as ‘beautiful beyond the bells of Christendom,’ that he was determined to portray Islamic beliefs and rituals accurately in his poetry, as evidenced in the letters he wrote to his editor. The conversation comes to an awkward halt when I reply ‘Yes, the English Byron.’”
Ruby Wallis’ ‘A woman walks alone at night, with a camera’
‘On the right track: how walking connects me to the land and its people’ by Ashish Ghadiali: “I had got used to looking at walking as a way to cultivate a feeling of belonging.”
‘Bothy Nights’ by Rachel Sarah: “Building a fire, lighting candles, using the gifts left by others and contributing our own gifts. Puzzling over who would leave a jar of pickles and grateful for the candle holders."
Upstream: A “dream-flight into wildness and winter’
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A bit about me
Hey! I’m Ameena – a freelance writer based in London. I love to tell stories about adventure, the outdoors, and our relationship with the natural world, and by night, I’m a portrait and documentary photographer.