There is no empirical evidence of a direct correlation between crime sites and urban ‘anxiety zones’.

There is a subtle yet powerful distinction between perceived safety—a fear rooted in anticipation of harm—and the lived experience of actual danger. For many women across cities, feeling safe has as much to do with external conditions such as street lighting as it does with internal confidence. This inner confidence acts as a kind of invisible armour allowing women to walk through neighbourhoods without shrinking from uncertainty or threat.

During walking interviews in housing estates across Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Perth, I encountered women who carries this quiet strength. They spoke of growing up in harsh environments where mental fortitude, resourcefulness, and daily survival strategies were part of life. ‘I’m pretty dobbie, not easily intimidated’, said one. Another reflected, ‘I grew up in this sort of environment and understand the sea and the city’, revealing an intuitive sense of navigation shaped by intimacy with place.

The ability of women of all ages to move freely through a neighbourhood at any time of the day or night is part and parcel of quality of living

Similar stories emerged in New York City, particularly among women in The Bronx and East Brooklyn who spoke about using public spaces with caution but not fear. One young woman described how a free self-defence class at a local community centre helped her ‘flip the script’ from feeling vulnerable to being prepared. ‘I don’t go looking for trouble’, she said, ‘but now I know I could handle it if it came’. NYC’s Girls for Gender Equity initiative has supported such transformations through empowerment-based self-defence, coupled with civic education on the rights and laws protecting women in the state of New York.

Perceived danger in urban public space can depend on both personal and physical factors.

In Lyon, France – a city known for its urban innovation and gender sensitive budgeting – women’s collectives have lobbied for public safety interventions that go beyond CCTV and increased police presence. Several quartiers have introduced self-defence workshops often accompanied by seminars on gender-based violence and women’s legal rights. Open to anyone over 17, these free sessions provide space where participants exchange practical tips and strategies for handling difficult situations – especially sexist aggression – whether at home, at work, or in public places. One woman told me, Before, I would cross the street when I saw a group of men. Now, I hold my space differently. I know my rights. I carry myself differently’.

This empowerment is not without criticism. Some argue that self-defence training places the burden on women to prevent violence, rather than addressing its systemic causes. Yet, for many of the women I met, this training represents a rare opportunity to reclaim agency. Unlike curfews or dress codes, self-defence expands rather than limits their freedom. ‘It’s about going out because you feel prepared, not staying in because you’re afraid’, a Glaswegian mother of three told me. She argued that self-defence should be a public service, ‘like fire drills or CPR training’, with refreshers every six months.

At night, the São Paulo Cultural Center becomes a space where young people exercise their bodily right to the city

In São Paulo, Brazil, where sprawling urban density often demands agility and alertness, self-defence initiatives are flourishing in community centres and women-led NGOs. These classes are physical, yes – but also deeply social and cultural. A young woman from Capão Redondo described how her training in jiu-jitsu didn’t just give her strength –it changed how she entered a room, how she used her voice, how she stood in a crowd.

Such initiatives point to a deeper systems-level change. Self-defence classes and rights seminars are not only about the inner perception of safety – they reflect a shift in how women shape and are shaped by urban environments. When women know their rights, they can exercise them. When they know how to defend themselves, they can expand they sense of possibility. And when entire communities take violence seriously, the culture begins to shift.

Ultimately, self-defence training becomes a quiet revolution in how public space is lived. It changes how women move through their streets, their parks and their chosen modes of active travel. It builds a city where confidence replaces caution – and where women move not as guests in a hostile landscape, but as rightful co-creators of the urban fabric.

Fearless Streets: Women Reclaiming Space through Self-Defence Training