ivi Restuviani would try to make herself look as invisible as you can when she was out overnight within their former hometown of Semarang, Indonesia. “If you viewed me from behind, you are going to have thought I was a boy,” she says.
One night, Restuviani was taking her regular short walk home, swamped anonymously in the oversized hooded sweater. As she walked along the main drag, she heard a motorbike approach; suddenly its rider was at her face.
“He was endeavoring to speak with me but I knew this person wanted something different,” she recalls. “You know there’s that moment when you find yourself being harassed, and you stop being surprised or shocked and easily scream? Well, it’s not how it happened. I said nothing and after that he began groping me.”
Finally, Restuviani had been distance themself and run towards a security alarm guard, while her attacker sped off unchallenged to the night. “I was trying so much to scream,” she says. “I tried overtime