A dress is not a yes.

Yesterday I fully immersed myself in the Reclaim the Night march in my city.

It's not something I'd actually heard of which is sad, since it's been going since the 1970s.

The aim of the movement is to come together, unite as women and allies, and take a stand about the outrageous truth of violence against women and girls, not just globally, but even down to our own very streets. The roads that we live, our doorstep.

This year, the University offered sign making workshops, for free, ahead of the march, so ofcourse I had to sign up.

Attending any event alone is always at best daunting.

And it's funny how much of that is encompassed in exactly why we were marching.

But part of my mantra this year, is fuck it.

So

"Fuck it" I thought, I'm going all out.

I pictured a night out where I'd be safe, to not only walk the streets, but be myself, unapologetically, and loudly.

What would I wear if I didn't give a care.

How would I do my makeup?

Ever the maximalist I put together (if I do say so myself)

A phenomenal outfit, fishnets, a purple baby doll miniskirt, a fishnet long sleeve snood (I think there's that one woman on tiktok who coined that?) And my pink Bridgerton collection (primark) lingerie top.

I topped it all off with my coat which I've aptly named "The Bear", a faux fur coat that is truly giant, warm, and cosy. (Thanks Blue Banana)

It may be tame as to what I wear in the future, but it was the first time I left the house alone in such a garb.

I curled my hair in tight ringlets and backcombed it to death, and did a hugely dramatic makeup using all the colours in the coat for inspiration. All together, it looked so good, and I won't lie, I was feeling it.

The issue was, I had a the sign making workshop 2 hours before the march, so I decided to go down in full glam face, and comfy clothes, which felt super strange and I didn't feel very confident at all.

But as soon as I got there, I recieved such warmth, I was getting so many compliments, and the general feel was entirely different than I was used to, I could relax more, let my guard down, have fun.

All of the students who helped with the workshop were all smiles and the shared energy we all had to this cause was really special.

It didn't take long to screen print a sign, shockingly, but I stuck around, went into another room where people were sitting, designing their own signs and decided to join them, there was a really positive buzz around the room and I added some colour to my sign.

About half an hour before the march I whipped home and got into my outfit.

Some of the lovely ladies offered to keep hold of my sign there, so I wasn't lugging it back and forth (thank you!!)

And when I returned the cup of love doth overfloweth.

I was truly overwhelmed by the amount of compliments I was getting, and, being my awkward self, I was dreadful at taking them.

Taking this in my stride I was fully ready to direct all of the pent up adrenaline to take to the march.

Over 500 people showed up for the cause. Nearly twice as many as the previous year, and it was a bit slow getting together.

Feeling awkward I moved through the group and chatted with a few people,

I ended up in a conversation with a couple women who were also on their own at the march, and it was also their first year.

So, naturally, we were sisters that night. We all were.

2,4,6,8, stop the violence, stop the hate.

The march began, and over 500 people streamed down the road, emergency services stopping traffic and chants and cheers erupting from the group. Motorists beeped their horns in support, and recieved a big cheer in thanks.

I saw a fair few women who were onlookers, who, for one reason or another couldn't attend. I saw a truly soul shining smile wash over their faces as they saw us march by, happy, carefree, and safe.

A car had slowed beside the march, and this made my heart sing and my eyes cry (thank god for setting spray!) I saw a father, driving his two children alongside us, two little girls, they were waving so hard, and we were waving and cheering back at them.

Tearing up once more while I write this, it gives me such hope, to see a father bring his daughters to see, and to give them that experience of connection with us.

The route took us right up onto the coast, and the freezing wind battered the signs, and nipped at us, but we marched on.

We passed many groups of startled onlookers, received jeers from groups of lads, but, carefree, we went on.

When we reached the endpoint, speeches were made. Statistics were given, the shocking rise in violence against women and girls in the last year alone. A poem was read, and a minutes silence given for a local woman who was murdered in the last month on our very streets.

Following the march, many people remained, and there was laughing and joking, stories being told and memories being made.

Taking my leave I agreed to see the friends I'd made at the next one next year, and proudly I may have skipped merrily home, sign in tow.

Following the event, the obvious social media misogyny was a bore, but for me, this event has ignited a fire in me that will not snuff, and has erased the silence I have long held.

Make you a sandwich?

"I guess, some guys just can't hold their arsenic."