Reading Time: 5 minutes I still walk, like most women, with my keys in my hands and fear dark alleyways, and this sadly wasn’t the last time my sexuality would be violated by straying hands, forced kisses, catcalls, harassment.

But it was the point when I faced a choice – whether to let this violent attack define me or whether I was going to define myself.

I could stay in ankle-green school skirts or their adult equivalent and believe that women incite attacks and take the blame the police had tried to hand to me.

Or I could hand it back.

So I did.