What Women Fear
Some risks are turned upside down for women.
People tell me I should turn back, but I brush them off. The guy who says I should not trek alone. The guy who tells me to come back with a husband. The hiking route is beautiful, and clearly marked. A two foot wide, paved path leading through remote Himalayan villages, over high mountain passes and narrow suspension bridges swinging above the rapid rivers, swelled with the monsoon rains.
I know that, had I been a man, there would have been no such warnings. I ignore them. I hike. I sleep in isolated guesthouses held by lone caretakers. I don’t let myself worry about being a girl in the woods alone. I worry instead about all the things trekkers should be worrying about — the weather and the route, how fast my clothes will dry after the rain.
As always, when you step outside of the lines of the patriarchy, there is a backlash.
I pass through the very last village on my trekking route — Khati. It’s a beautiful mountain village where each house is brightly painted with intricate designs, and portraits of those who live inside, or their profession. A kettle on the Chai-stand, an old fashioned sewing machine on the tailors.
