I was waiting at the bus stop in Carlton after uni like I do every Wednesday.

People and cars were filtering past, then for thirty seconds, they stopped. Before I knew what was happening, a man grabbed my phone from my hand then disappeared into the park across the road.

It wasn't violent or aggressive. But I barely slept that night.

Post-crime anxiety

In the days that followed, my emotions were all over the place. I felt scared to leave the house, especially after dark. I had to take days off work, unable to face the journey back through Carlton into the city.

A week passed, and I was still feeling vulnerable and anxiety-stricken.

I kept checking all the windows in my house were locked and limited my social catch-ups to daytime only. I was paranoid walking down quiet streets even in sunlight. I didn't go back to class the next week. Or the week after that. Or the week after that.

Convinced I was overreacting, I looked into the common effects of crime on victims. As I read through the list, I realised I ticked nearly every box.

Guilt at having become the victim of crime and feelings one could have prevented it (whether or not this was possible)

Guilt at having become the victim of crime and feelings one could have prevented it (whether or not this was possible) Feelings of anxiety through shock that such a thing has happened and worries about revictimisation, sometimes leading to feelings of loss of trust in one's community and in society

Feelings of anxiety through shock that such a thing has happened and worries about revictimisation, sometimes leading to feelings of loss of trust in one's community and in society Limiting one's social life or work life, or changing one's lifestyle, by not going to places like where the crime occurred or being afraid to go out altogether, because of unease or fears of revictimisation

Limiting one's social life or work life, or changing one's lifestyle, by not going to places like where the crime occurred or being afraid to go out altogether, because of unease or fears of revictimisation Taking extra crime preventive measures

But then it dawned on me — I'd been engaging in these behaviours long before I was mugged.

It was all too familiar

Like many women, I had spent years "taking extra crime preventive measures".

Whether it's walking with keys between our knuckles, keeping an eye on our drinks, texting a friend when we get home safely, not wearing headphones while walking or just not walking at night at all, women do these things every day.

According to University of Melbourne criminology lecturer Dr Bianca Fileborn: "There is little evidence to show these safety strategies work, but plenty of evidence to suggest it profoundly limits women's freedom and movement through public space."

Mission Australia recently found that 47 per cent of young women feel unsafe walking alone after dark, compared with 18 per cent of men.

Four women have been killed by men in Melbourne's public spaces within twelve months. How could we not be feeling this way in the wake of such tragedies?

Many women feel unsafe in public. ( Unsplash: Pawel Szvmanski )

The daily experiences of catcalling, harassment on public transport, and other threatening behaviour also feed into women's constant sense of unease.

Dr Fileborn says we need to address "the culture that normalises and excuses this behaviour" and encourage bystanders to "safely intervene" when harassment occurs.

"In my own research, public harassment was often more harmful when others witnessed it and did nothing to help," Dr Fileborn says.

"This had really negative impacts on participants' sense of safety and trust in the community."

Victim blaming makes it worse

After I was mugged, I was lucky to have a wealth of support from my partner, family, friends and colleagues. But one conversation stuck with me — the person who told me not to have my phone out next time.

Not only is this victim blaming, it contradicts the advice given by Victoria Police superintendent David Clayton following the murder of Eurydice Dixon. "Make sure people know where you are, and if you've got a mobile phone, carry it" he said.

Eurydice Dixon had her phone with her when she died, she used it to text someone that she was nearly home safe. Aya Maasarwe was on the phone to her sister at the time she was attacked. They knew the routine — take extra crime preventive measures.

What happened to me was not sexual assault, it was not even violent. But there are parallels. In every instance of harassment or assault, the perpetrator is exercising dominance over the victim, making them feel powerless. This feeling is exacerbated by a culture of victim blaming.

A men's issue not a women's issue

Thankfully, we are starting to see a shift in the right direction.

Following Courtney Herron's murder, Victoria's assistant police commissioner Luke Cornelius urged men to take responsibility for violence against women.

"Violence against women is absolutely about men's behaviour, it's not about women's behaviour," he said.

"Every man in our community needs to reflect," he continued, "on what is it about our society which appears to support some men thinking it's okay to cause women harm."

Flowers and tributes left at the Royal Park site of Courtney Herron's death. ( ABC News: Kristian Silva )

This is not just about keeping people safe, it's about protecting their right to feel safe. You might not be causing harm, but if you are placing blame on victims, you are part of the problem and you need to do better.

If you have never tried to understand the mental burden of feeling unsafe in public, you need to try harder.

And if you know a woman who has been assaulted, abused, stalked, harassed, threatened, or mugged — and it's likely you do — listen to her without judgement or blame. And reflect.

Madeline Crehan is a freelance writer based in Melbourne with a focus on gender equality.