The cost of safety within student housing
As students, we can all attest to the complexities that come with searching for off-campus housing. There are so many factors involved, but only a limited amount of time before all the “best” ones are taken. However, there are aspects that women, specifically, are forced to consider that can greatly hinder the search. While checking off the list, it becomes thinking about proximity to campus, living space, and then: “Can I go home alone without worrying here?” Whilst trying to check off those crucial necessities, one thing becomes obvious.
Cheaper housing almost always means living far away. Housing options close to campus are increasingly expensive, even if they’re more than 1.5 miles away! It becomes apparent: our safety concerns are monetized. Thinking that a convenient commute is the selling point for expensive apartments near campus, we fail to truly see the implications or the causes behind it.
For many women, living further away from campus means walking or traveling longer distances at night. In Davis, that means walking for upwards of 30 minutes in areas with little to no light or people around. Initially, what appears to be a mere financial trade-off turns out to be a serious safety risk, and landlords knowingly capitalize on it.
When the pursuit for cheaper housing forces accepting higher risk, more cost-effective options are simply non-existent–and that’s a serious issue. This system inevitably forces the decision between safety and affordability; consequently, equal housing is impossible.
It makes me think–what about women who work late? What about the students who don’t have the luxury of cars? Low-income students are all pushed into, one way or another, choosing the cheaper, but more unsafe option. As a student who relies primarily on Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) for future rent costs, the desire for affordable housing has proved to be a far-fetched reality.
Gender’s heavy influence on housing decisions
My seven other roommates and I were ready to put down the lease payments for an apartment around 2.5 miles away from campus. One thing was left–looking at the bike path. Because of the distance, the buses wouldn’t even take us close enough, so we had to make plans to take the bike path. One of the selling points of the apartment’s area was that the bike path was fully lit, when in reality, it was quite the opposite.
After sunset, the lights became dimmer and dimmer by the hour. As a group of all women, we immediately thought about the worst-case scenario. One of my roommates’ first reactions was:
“It’s okay. People have our location. If anything happens, we’ll be found.”
That alone was all I needed to hear to realize we could never go down this bike path again, let alone every day if we lived here. The darkness truly made us all fear numerous possibilities, and that was a deal breaker.
Quickly after, we scrambled to switch to another apartment that costs almost $100 more per month, based on utilities and overall amenities. The sole reason? It was in East Davis, a more populated area, where we would rarely be forced to walk home alone. The rooms were smaller, and I had to plan around, simultaneously racking up my work-study hours to cover these new fees, cramming my schedule entirely. It left me asking myself–why do women have to endure this double burden when it should be a basic right to feel safe in any area?
Unfortunately, this is most likely the reality for many women in Davis. Being alone at night with no streetlights isn’t feasible, despite many advertising the town as “relatively safe”. The fear of violence instilled in us at young ages: the fear of being followed, being approached aggressively with nobody nearby to help, is simply everyday life for women.
viewing society’s structure from a woman’s perspective
Public spaces aren’t experienced equally. For women, walking alone means constantly considering that something bad could happen. Harassment, uncomfortable conversations, being followed, even violence is possible–because gendered violence is not rare in today’s world. It’s a fact that women are increasingly likely to be targeted in public areas, and the fear of those possibilities is universal. We calculate routes based on the amount of lighting, the distances of walking unaccompanied, and choosing populated areas to get by.
Safety is an unequal concept, and therefore, women are forced to pay more for closer housing, accessibility to safe rides, or safer neighborhoods. No one willingly wants to walk, or even bike, home alone in the dark. Davis, as a college town, needs to account for this.
The expectation that women should be hypervigilant, rather than shifting attention to the inequities within the creation of light-lacking neighbourhoods, is a serious issue.
The housing market views safety as a personal problem, but in reality, the concept of safety is heavily shaped by gender and class. It benefits those who can afford to prioritize both safety and proximity, while simultaneously punishing those who can’t. The system is failing to acknowledge and realize the risks that it poses to the rest of us, as no one should gamble with their safety for financial benefits.
A housing market that pushes women away is not just financially straining and unrealistic; it is exclusionary, and must be addressed as such. Fears that have become normalized and heightened by society should not be treated as individual issues that women must manage alone; distance and visibility should not be sold as benefits but rather considered necessities.
Women, regardless of situation, deserve to feel safe without rent-related concerns.