Public spaces have deeply shaped my worldview. As a child, I saw sidewalks, parks and playgrounds not merely as physical places but as locations that offered a sense of freedom and independence. My earliest memories of public spaces are centered around the sidewalk near my home, where my friends and I engaged in all sorts of imaginative play. 

Everything changed when a new playground was built in my cousins’ neighborhood, about a 15-minute walk from my house. As a kid, that playground felt pretty far and inaccessible. But it quickly became a focal point and expanded my understanding of what public spaces could be. 

Looking back now, I realize the issue wasn’t just about how far it was, though it felt like quite a trek at that time. The real problem was that it wasn’t very welcoming. It was designed in a way that didn’t consider the needs or interests of all kids, with few options for quieter activities that could have engaged those who weren’t as interested in sports. The distance was just one part of the problem; the lack of inclusivity and thoughtful design made it a place where I never quite felt like I belonged. 

I began to see that these areas were governed by unwritten rules shaping how we used them. The equipment seemed to serve more traditionally “active” and physical play, which often matched what was expected of boys. Girls, on the other hand, were encouraged toward quieter, more social activities — less about what we wanted, and more about the roles we were being taught. It became clear public spaces were not just for fun but also places where power dynamics were at play — dynamics that often positioned young girls less favorably.

Girls and public space

Public space takes many forms. It includes parks, streets, sidewalks and footpaths connecting playgrounds and marketplaces and edge spaces between buildings or roadsides, which can be important spaces for people in urban areas who don’t have backyards or gardens. It also reflects the pressures and dynamics continuously shaping girls’ lives. Feminist geographer Mary Thomas points out that girls and young women often struggle to claim their rights to spaces where they can be independent. This struggle highlights the importance of finding places of belonging and connection in areas for learning, working, playing and hanging out in the city.

For many girls and young women, appropriating these spaces and making them their own involves overcoming social and physical barriers affecting their everyday experiences and sense of agency. Another feminist geographer, Doreen Massey, has written on how the struggle for control of public spaces is deeply linked to how society defines “youth.” She argues that adults often try to restrict young people, particularly girls, through racialized and sexualized forms of surveillance and control. These efforts often result in excluding girls from public places and limiting their freedom. 

But the street isn’t a place of danger and threat by default, as some narratives suggest.

Children’s Geographies, a sociological work that analyzes children’s experiences of playing, living and learning, highlights streets’ function as vital communal spaces where young people socialize and connect. But girls and boys experience these spaces differently. For many girls, creating their own spaces and making their presence felt requires challenging existing power structures. 

Research shows that until age seven, boys and girls equally use public spaces like playgrounds. However, from then onward, 80% of users are boys, while girls are 10 times more likely to feel unsafe in public places. This raises a crucial question: Are girls being systematically designed out of our public spaces? And if so, how is this happening?

Watching the boys take over

Public spaces, particularly parks, playgrounds and recreational facilities, are often designed for activities typically associated with masculinity such as basketball courts or football fields. These environments tend to provide core venues for competitive physical activities in which boys are more commonly encouraged to participate, leaving girls with limited options to engage in public spaces that align with their interests. This affects girls’ participation in these spaces and has implications for their involvement in sports, as the lack of supportive environments can decrease confidence and interest.

This is how that playground from my childhood felt to me. Even though I liked sports, it didn’t feel like a place where I could jump in and play. It felt more like a spot where I watched boys take over. I wasn’t considered part of the public in this “public” space.

The exclusion of girls from public spaces can be both intentional and unintentional, influenced by urban planning, societal expectations and the lived experiences of women and girls. Public spaces may be designed with certain assumptions about who uses them, assumptions that can inadvertently marginalize girls. Societal expectations often dictate which spaces are deemed appropriate or safe for different genders, further complicating access and inclusion. 

For women, the process of navigating these spaces involves continuous negotiation of safety and belonging.

Who belongs, and who doesn’t

Belonging in public space is both different for women and differs between women. From changing routes home to choosing seats on public transport, physically reducing themselves in public, to using headphones and sunglasses as a way of feeling invisible, women and girls globally routinely make various strategic decisions to avoid sexual harassment and other forms of sexual violence. These choices are part of a broader strategy to manage our safety and navigate public spaces in a way that minimizes the risk of harm.

In a local context, the urgency of these strategies is underscored by the results of the SafoMeter safety index in Prishtina. The study considers both objective safety indicators — public lighting, surveillance cameras, stray dogs and the presence of public institutions — and subjective ones — harassment, theft, level of diversity and physical threat.

The study scored public spaces in Prishtina on a 0-10 scale, taking both the objective and subjective indicators into account, with higher scores indicating safer areas. The results were worrying. Most public spaces in Prishtina score below the midpoint on the safety index, with a maximum rating of just 5.57. Even more concerning is that 17% of these spaces are in the lowest category, scoring between 0 and 1. Gërmia Park, Central City Park and Arbëria Park ranked among the least safe places, as did several central locations in the city. The few places that did score well were small, isolated and poorly connected, making safe movement between them difficult, especially for marginalized groups. 

This demonstrates that whether seeking a spot for leisure, work or activism, women and girls often find themselves in environments that don’t always seem designed with us in mind. The struggle for inclusion goes beyond the built infrastructure. It’s also about the perception of safety in public spaces, fostering a sense of security and agency in places where we may feel vulnerable or out of place.

As we transition from girlhood to womanhood, our interactions with public spaces reflect societal expectations and offer a chance to redefine our narratives. The way we move through these spaces and proclaim our presence reveals our ability to challenge existing norms and reshape our environment.

From girlhood to womanhood, public spaces are more than just streets, parks or playgrounds. They are arenas where we confront and challenge the narratives imposed upon us. Looking back, I realize the playground I once felt excluded from wasn’t just about physical distance. It was about power — who felt like they belonged and who didn’t.

Feature image: Ferdi Limani / K2.0

This blog was published with the financial support of the European Union as part of the project “Diversifying voices in journalism.” Its contents are the sole responsibility of Kosovo 2.0 and do not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union.

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