Unsafe by Design? Using VR to Rethink Public Spaces for Women

This tells us that either train stations are an incredibly dangerous place, which might be partially true, or it demonstrates something bigger than that: Being a woman comes with danger, and many of us anticipate precisely this danger wherever we go, even on our daily commute. A phrase like “See it. Say it. Sorted.”  resonates with millions of commuters in the UK, it so badly wants to be our daily reminder of safety in public transport. Yet, it overlooks a reality that millions of women face. Harassment often goes unseen, unspoken, unsorted. The fear of being followed, catcalled, or worse is a constant companion for many women, and it is influenced by the very design of the public spaces women move through. 

Although official crime statistics struggle with low reporting rates (Gekoski et al., 2017), numerous studies across the globe consistently report high rates of (sexual) harassment on public transport (e.g., Ceccato & Loukaitou-Sideris, 2022; Dhillon & Bakaya, 2014; Orozco-Fontalvo et al., 2019). Importantly, the fear of crime or victimisation is even more prevalent: more than 70% of women feel unsafe in or around the train stations in London or Vancouver, and more than 95% in Mexico City (Ceccato & Loukaitou-Sideris, 2022). As a direct consequence of fear of harassment on public transport, many women adjust their behaviour or appearance, take concrete measures to prevent victimisation, or stop using public transport altogether (Fahmy et al., 2014). My friends mentioned these behaviours before I even got to ask the question: Taking an Uber instead of public transport, depending on the city. Covering up a revealing outfit before getting on the bus. Getting stared at in the metro because of a glitter-and-mesh top, feeling uncomfortable. It seems as if an outfit is not only judged by its aesthetic value but also by its potential for provocation, every time the public space is entered, especially at night.

These behavioural adjustments limit women’s access to the public sphere, which in turn can result in worsening mental health and reduced quality of life (Alfaro et al., 2024; Moreno et al., 2022). It is not surprising that fear of crime and harassment is a useful emotion for the system we live in: It is an element of social control, of male dominance in the public sphere. The binary conceptualisation of the public as male and the private, domestic as female has its earliest roots in ancient Greece. There, the polis was the male-only space of public engagement and politics, where decisions were made and community life was shaped (Lefkowitz & Fant, 2016). More recently, this divide was reinforced by ideas of the Enlightenment, and has been held as a precious ideal since at least the Industrial Revolution (Davidoff & Hall, 2018). It is therefore unsurprising that public spaces are usually designed by men for men, thus restricting movement and access of anyone who does not fit this description. While the largest disadvantaged group consists of women, this also includes minorities of race, ability, age, gender, and sexuality, and their intersections (e.g., Iudici et al., 2017; Nourani et al., 2020). 

In response to these challenges, solutions from urban design and crime prevention have demonstrated great potential to transform public spaces into safer and less stressful environments for those groups that are usually excluded from the design conversation. One such approach is crime prevention through environmental design (CPTED; Newman, 1973), which proposes strategic design of the physical environment to reduce opportunities for crime and improve perceived safety. The core principles of CPTED include natural surveillance, territoriality and ownership of a place, access control, and maintenance of spaces (Crowe & Fennelly, 2013). Some of these aspects, including proper illumination and maintenance, but also the presence of police, staff, or bystanders, have been shown to reduce fear of crime on public transport and in stations (e.g., Ceccato et al., 2024; Gardner et al., 2017). Interestingly, my friends listed exactly these measures when asked what would make them feel safer: light, clean and well-maintained spaces with people around, and some also mentioned security staff. 

While both qualitative insights into women’s experiences and quantitative assessments of design interventions exist, there remains a gap in our understanding of fear of harassment while women navigate public spaces like train stations, a real-time and real-life perspective on their experiences. This gap is a known issue in psychological research, simply because answering a questionnaire based on an imaginary threat is usually quite removed from the reality of the situation. Virtual reality (VR) offers a powerful tool for bridging this gap, allowing researchers to capture emotions, thoughts, and behaviour in real-time as participants navigate fully controlled scenarios (McClanahan et al., 2024). Especially in comparison to other frequently used methods such as vignettes, VR has been shown to elicit stronger feelings of presence and higher levels of realism in participants (Van Gelder et al., 2019). In fact, Sadeh-Sharvit et al. (2021) even demonstrated that the feeling of being sexually harassed could be induced using VR, making it a valuable tool for studying fear of harassment without actually endangering participants. In addition, this favourable increase in ecological validity, i.e., the possibility of meaningfully translating research findings to the real world, is possible without having to compromise on experimental rigour (Van Gelder et al., 2014). Since all scenarios are carefully designed and therefore fully controllable by the researcher, small changes in the environment can directly be linked to observed changes in emotions or behaviour. For example, a train station’s lighting or cleanliness could be manipulated in the virtual setting while holding all other factors constant. 

This promising new avenue in criminological research is already being adopted in some places. For example, the Network Institute of the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam or the Max Planck Institute for the Study of Crime, Security and Law in Freiburg, Germany, have already used VR to study burglars, aggression, misinformation, and reactive guardianship (e.g., Herman et al., 2024; Sergiou et al., 2024; Van Gelder et al., 2019). Given the rapid technological advancement and increased affordability of virtual reality equipment, it is likely this new avenue will be a highly frequented Autobahn sooner rather than later. Real-world problems that have long been identified could be translated to innovative experimental research, core findings of the relevant disciplines could be replicated in a more ecologically valid setting and the innovative use of the method could tackle some of criminology’s big questions. 

Such research is however only fruitful if cities and communities make these innovative approaches a priority. The case of Umeå in Sweden, a community which was called the “world’s most feminist city” by The Guardian, is a pioneer in this regard and could serve as an example of inclusive design, and how to consider everyone in the design conversation. One of many great examples is their design of waiting pods at a bus station, which allows for both isolation and conversation depending on the individuals’ needs. At the same time, they increase perceived safety as nobody can hide in these pods, making it possible to have a clear overview of the space. After all, this is the true motivation of any researcher, policymaker, or urban designer: Make (public) spaces safe and enjoyable to everyone who wants to use them. Research on urban design and crime prevention may seem like a small puzzle piece, but its placement could transform the broader picture of urban design and safety, making it one where everyone’s right to feel secure is both recognised and realised. Together, through research, policy, and design, we can bridge the gap between a simple slogan and the realities faced by millions of women every day.