In this climate of violence, women-only events are needed more than ever

I had never experienced such pure joy on a night out until the day I attended my first women-only event.

Last year, I attended Black Femme Film, an organisation run by five women that aims to promote diversity and inclusion within the film industry.

We watched Ocean’s 8 in a room full of hundreds of black and mixed-race women, and then partied together afterwards. The atmosphere in the screening and afterparty was amazing. I had never felt more comfortable at an event, knowing that in my tight, flared trousers and small top that was barely covering my stomach, I wouldn’t be harassed.

It’s not surprising that several of the organisers of Black Femme Film – Alegria Adedeji, Nabilla Doma, Monique Monrowe, Martha Nakintu and Stephanie Ozuo – are so drawn to women-only events.

A 2017 YouGov poll found that 63 per cent of 18 to 24-year-old women have personally experienced sexual harassment in a pub, club or bar. Nearly 80 per cent of the same group think harassment is likely to happen to them and their female friends on a night out. Every woman knows a woman who has been sexually harassed or assaulted.

Then, after attending another women-only space in May called LICK Events, created by Teddy Edwardes, that euphoric feeling came flooding back. The outfit I wore, a tight, black vinyl bralet paired with a revealing skirt, isn’t something I could have gotten away with elsewhere. No one there made a sleazy comment, and no one touched me inappropriately. I felt like I was in a bubble. Once I left the event, that’s when the bubble burst and a number of men made me feel uncomfortable with their stares and attempts to stop me from going home. This experience truly emphasised that women-only spaces are a much-needed safe haven, as well as providing a sense of community and enjoyment.

I do enjoy mixed gender events, but my nights out at these parties have often ended on a sour note. On a particular night out in Sheffield during my university days, I was sexually assaulted. A random guy forcefully slapped my bum and ran away into the crowd. He likely doesn’t remember that night, but it still upsets me to this day. My evening was completely ruined. I’ve also experienced incidents where I’ve been grabbed by men I don’t know, even though I’d been visibly trying to get away from them after they’d cornered me in a club. I’ve had the strap of my thong snapped through my dress too.

No matter how good the actual mixed-gender event is, these incidents tend to occur. That’s why spaces like Black Femme Film and LICK Events are so important to me.

Initiatives like #AskForAngela are welcome, where women can go to the venue’s bar and give a discreet signal that they feel unsafe by asking for “Angela”. However, it isn’t enough to solely put the onus on women to say something in these uncomfortable situations, particularly as 72 per cent of young adults who frequent clubs, pubs and bars have witnessed inappropriate sexual comments or touching on a night out, according to YouGov. This behaviour isn’t hidden or discreet and bouncers should take more action as they see any harassment unfold.

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Having spoken to the events organisers, I know they have collectively faced similar experiences. Especially as London-based events tend to predominantly be run by men. High beauty standards are set by these establishments too, particularly for black women in Mayfair clubs, but women-only spaces definitely diminish these standards. At Black Femme Film and LICK Events, an evening out means you can walk around in your bra, take off your wig if it’s too hot, and dance and sweat without anyone mocking you.

Yet, one key thing I’ve noticed is the assumption that all women-only spaces are solely for the LGBT+ community.

I’ve heard: “Why would you go to a woman-only rave? Imagine I said I’m going to a men-only event – wouldn’t that sound strange to you?”

That’s the thing, it wouldn’t sound strange to me. People with that type of mentality can’t possibly understand why women would want a space of their own — unless they’re queer.

My sexuality has been questioned when dancing with my female friends. I’ve been called stuck-up on occasions where I don’t feel like dancing with men. Black Femme Film has even inaccurately been labelled as LGBT+ on ticketing platforms.

LICK Events prioritises queer women, but states that all women are welcome. And I definitely love how welcome I felt, surrounded by like-minded women. The events provide a space for women to show affection to one another without men asking for a show. We’ve previously seen how dangerous it is for lesbian couples when two women were beaten up on a London bus by four men after refusing to kiss for them.

LICK has bred a consensual and comfortable environment where intimacy is sensual rather than forced and performative. It also provides a large amount of representation for queer DJs and dancers. Edwardes constantly reminds attendees of the zero-tolerance approach to abusive behaviour, a welcome sigh of relief for queer women in an alcohol-filled atmosphere where emotions are heightened.

This open-to-all, safe space attitude is the exact approach needed for all types of events, not just women-only ones. Some of my nights out haven’t been nice, but I know a lot of women who have experienced much worse. Our safety and our enjoyment should be equal, and should be taken more seriously.