A WALK AROUND THE BLOCK

Good morning Eugene. It’s Sunday, and there’s a slight chance of rain. If you listen closely, you can hear coffee machines begin to stir awake. From 13th Ave to Hillyard, Barnhart to Bean, streets and sidewalks are lined with people who have just spent a night at another’s. Cue lights. Cue music. The walkers on this runway wear a collection of clothes that some may describe as “avant-garde” or “camp,” but looks like these do not come about by control or design. Instead, they’re born from spontaneity, fervor, and seeing where the road takes you.

On their walk back in the morning, one is often wearing an amalgamation of clothes from the night before and some they picked up along the way. These items include, but are not limited to: skirts, stilettos, sweatshirts that hit the knees, cowboy boots, cowboy hats, totes, plaid pajama pants. Glitter is often still smudged in the crease or inner corners of one’s eyes. Hair might look windblown. This catwalk is bursting with new and exciting looks that have never been seen before. An intersection of chaos and beauty.

But as groups of people descend on the streets, walking home after an exciting night, they are met with stern looks. Dogwalkers and bathrobed-men picking up their newspapers may throw judgment towards the walker’s way. A shame settles over, causing one to want to curl up in a ball and hide: face, body, and self.

walk of shame, phrase of walk [informal]: “an instance of walking back home on the day after an unplanned casual sexual encounter, typically dressed in the same clothes as the previous evening.” Oxford Languages has a black and white definition of what a walk of shame is. Yes, in simple terms, a walk of shame is the walk after hooking up with someone. But in a culture that looks down upon anonymous sex, there is more nuance to it. When talking about the walk of shame—about perception, judgment and mornings after—we have to talk about shame itself.

Shame is a messy feeling. When trapped in it, one may feel like they’re moving through slow, sticky molasses. Shame stifles; it silences. It’s difficult to work through. Women often fall on the receiving end of feeling shame. Men are taught and encouraged to express their anger outwardly. They don’t have to bottle it in. But women are taught to direct their anger inwards. To quiet it and sit with it, to let it change face and name. This is how a girl becomes friends with shame. In its first form, it was anger, but kept out of the light, it transforms into a turning against the self.

Helen Block Lewis, a psychologist specializing in shame, found in her research that women tend to center their feelings of self worth around the level of shame they feel. In a culture that promotes acceptance as the most valuable form of social currency, when a girl feels valued, she feels “good.” But when she goes against societal norms, she may feel shamed, which results in a lower view of self, which leads to more shame. It’s a cycle, and one that is difficult to escape.

A narrative repeats itself: Women should not indulge in random, anonymous sex. Women should save their intimacy for someone they know and have been in a relationship with for a long time. Women should give, not take. Women should, should, should, should—

A walk of shame is direct proof that a woman went against the social norm of abstaining from hookup culture. Notice how I did not say man. Do men really have walks of shame? Or can they just roll out of bed and wear what they wore the night before, hands in their pockets, thinking about what they’ll tell their friends later? For women, it’s more obvious when they’re walking after a night spent at someone else’s. To go out, it’s expected of women to be seen as beautiful. Memorable. The most exciting part of going out is often getting ready. Swiping on mascara, picking out the outfit you feel most you in. But the standard to be seen as attractive for the night leads to jokes being made and judgments being hurled the morning after.

Shame is a heavy thing to both give and receive. It ruins the relationships we have with others and also ourselves. It builds up walls, breaks people down, and is not a productive use of our mental energy. I suggest we set shame down on the curb and keep it there.

The walk of shame doesn’t have to be a shameful thing. Instead, it’s sidewalks stained from rain and autonomy. It’s a cool breeze and feeling empowered in the choices we make. It’s being around while the world is waking up and not caring who sees you. Really, what the walk of shame is, is just another walk around the block.

DESIGNER PAYTON ALONZO

WRITTEN BY MAYA MCLEROY

ILLUSTRATED

BY

GRETTA GLEESON