When I moved to Montreal, I came across almost by accident the Montreal Assault Prevention Centre. Here we do say, quite comfortably, that there is almost always something you can do to prevent or stop an aggressive situation. Here we teach women, children, and others to fight back; to stand and confront aggressors; to yell, make a scene; to use instinct and awareness to get out of dangerous situations; to kick and punch; to do what is necessary to get to safety. We teach those who are traditionally disempowered to take some power. Power is not something men have in the absence of women; power is a relation between people or between groups. In assault situations we are one side of a power dynamic, not hapless victims.

I do not want to imply that the notion of prevention is simple or unproblematic. Prevention based on rules governing our behavior, which keep us fearful and still skill-less when facing an aggressor, is not empowering. Rather, empowering prevention is grounded in the notion of developing tools, instincts, awareness, confidence, verbal skills, assertiveness, and physical maneuvers. These tools are varied, adaptable, and flexible; they improve the quality of our lives, they give us choices and freedoms we may never have felt before.

So when we say that women and others vulnerable to assault can fight back, we are changing the parameters of the debate. We are not accepting as immutable the notion that men are powerful, women powerless. Women can take power, can invent new ways of using power to protect ourselves, and can challenge old ideas of power-over as the only power dynamic possible. Perhaps it is for this reason that the word prevention gets ignored so often. Because in believing we can prevent assault, we are throwing off the notion that men and other groups have exclusive access to power; we are stepping out of the structure which keeps us believing in our own oppression.

Which is not to blame the victim. Most of us have never learned to take power, to kick, yell, fight back, say no. Many of us have no idea how to do so. And once we learn, perhaps we will carry with us a sad sense of not having learned earlier, of having missed opportunities to stop some of the violence in our lives. But at least we are ready for the next time.

Nadya Burton is a co-Guest Editor of this issue of Women's Education des femmes.