Every woman in London does 4 things just to feel safe and now we can't trust the police

Nearly every woman I know in London carries her keys between her fingers, an alarm in her bag, shares her live location with a friend or relative, and avoids walking alone after dark. This is daily life. BBC's latest Panorama exposé on the Metropolitan Police could not be more timely. On the same day that hundreds of women took to the streets demanding the government act to improve women's safety, the documentary laid bare why their concerns are not only justified but urgent.

It showed not just institutional failings, but officers openly laughing in the face of victims - while being paid by the very taxpayers they are supposed to protect. The public already knows the names of high-profile victims, such as Sarah Everard, who was abducted, raped, and murdered by a serving police officer. But this is not about one bad apple. The documentary exposes senior officers dismissing rape claims made by women desperate for help.

In one shocking exchange, a woman reported a rape where the victim awoke without trousers. An officer responded: "I've gone to bed before and can't remember taking my trousers off." He showed no compassion, no concern - he mocked her. After she left, likely without any support, he added: "She woke up momentarily to someone humping her and passed out again, and that's all she's got."

This is not incompetence. It is cruel.

In response, Commissioner Mark Rowley said he "completely understands" if the investigation "shakes your confidence" as a woman considering reporting a crime. But women's confidence in the Met was shaken a long time ago.

As a 24-year-old woman living and working in London, I often have to avoid certain areas or roads, and constantly stay alert.

In 2024/25, police recorded 26,803 sexual offences in London - an increase from 24,334 the year before. And those are only the cases the police deemed worthy of recording. The true figure is almost certainly far higher.

I've been fortunate not to experience a sexual offence myself. But I have begun to question: What if I did? Who would I trust? Who would listen? How long before my attacker was taken off the streets?

And now, after watching the exposé, I question if my report may be mocked by the officers tasked with keeping me safe.

When women can no longer trust the very people sworn to protect them, what protection do they have at all?