Like usual, I found myself scrolling through TikTok while mindlessly watching videos that ranged from plain brainrot to movie clips; the same old content I was used to viewing. But today I stumbled across a video from The New York Times Opinion that opened with the classic 80s/90s crash test dummies, Vince and Larry. Right off the bat, I was instantly drawn to the video and continued watching as the safety campaign mascots danced around the screen, rapping about the importance of wearing a seatbelt.
Although slightly confused, I continued watching as the video began to shift to the filmmaker, Eve Van Dyke’s, true story about a car crash she was in on Thanksgiving in 2024. The video continued to use jumpy, attention-grabbing editing as she discussed the injuries she had sustained in the crash: a broken clavicle, sternum, and four broken ribs. Although she was able to make a full recovery, she still required medical assistance and physical therapy following the accident. Upon recounting the incident to a close friend of hers, Eve was shocked to hear that women are about 73% more likely to sustain injuries in automotive accidents than men because of crash test dummies. The dummies used for automobile testing are roughly based on the average size of a male at 5’9” and 170 pounds, meaning that most cars’ safety features are also built on the same, or approximately similar, criteria.
It was not until the 2000s that NHTSA (The U.S. Department of National Highway Traffic Safety Administration) began incorporating female testing dummies into its safety procedures. However, it still does not come close to depicting a true female dummy, as it is nearly a shrunken-down version of the male dummy, standing at 4’11” and 108 pounds. Today, this is the current and only female testing dummy used for manufacturing cars. Although NHTSA is currently in the process of implementing an anatomically correct crash-test dummy for women under the name Thor-5F, its mission to incorporate this model is halted as another, more advanced male dummy is being prepared to be enforced in testing. Today, a group of bipartisan senators has created the She DRIVES Act to require car companies to incorporate anatomically correct male and female dummies for collision testing and prevention. While NHTSA administrator John Morrison has publicly endorsed the implementation of the Thor-5F in testing facilities, there is still no tangible action.
After digesting this information, my mind quickly jumped to my recent car accident. This past December, my mother and I collided with another car and ultimately found ourselves in a car wreck. With the airbags flared out and dense smoke filling the car, we both had to crawl out from our broken doors to escape the vehicle. The front of our car was entirely concaved in on itself and had been spun into a large traffic sign. I recall clambering out of the car on my hands and knees, attempting to limp through shallow snow to reach a nearby sidewalk to rest on. As I moved, my Apple Watch dialed 911 in an instant, and before I knew it, I was crying to a dispatcher on my small watch as our car continued to smoke.
By the time the police and ambulance arrived at the scene, our adrenaline had calmed down enough for us to comprehend the event that had occurred. My mother sustained what we presumed to be a fractured arm, while I dealt with constant knee pain and deep bruising along my legs and stomach. Thankfully, we were able to walk away with these minor injuries that would easily heal over time. However, this simple TikTok video really had me contemplating how our injuries could have been nearly avoided had there been collision dummies built for women.
We rarely question our safety when driving to class, work, or daily events. It is an afterthought to consider whether the vehicles we rely on actually protect us equally. However, these issues stem far beyond car crashes, as this truly reflects a harsh reality: the systems that interact with day-to-day life are not built with women in consideration. This realization carries weight because once you acknowledge it, even something as simple as getting in a car no longer feels as universally safe as it once did.