Newcastle: home to the UK’s biggest contemporary art gallery, fiercely loyal football fans, an industrial heritage, and arguably, the UK’s biggest night out. The city’s Bigg Market is its hedonistic epicentre, with 15 bars and nightclubs in an area of less than a square mile. As well as local people seeking a good time, it attracts people from around the country in search of escapism and cheap alcohol, including stag and hen parties.

It’s also home to Women’s Street Watch (WSW), a pioneering grassroots network of trained volunteers who venture out every Friday and Saturday night between 10pm and 2am in an effort to increase women and girls’ safety.

Founded in 2021 by Charlie and Beth following the murders of Sarah Everard and Sabina Nessa, the group provides a safe space for women on a night out, providing practical supplies, such as bottles of water, warm blankets, snacks, a place to charge mobile phones, basic first aid, flip flops after shoes have been abandoned, help getting home safely, and a warm, non-judgemental space.

And sadly it’s needed. Research by Drinkaware found that nearly two-thirds (63 per cent) of women aged 18-24 who drank in pubs, bars and nightclubs had experienced sexual harassment on a night out. The same study found that of those polled, 79 per cent had come to expect inappropriate comments, unwelcome touching or behaviour to happen to them or their female friends on a night out.

Storm Boelo is underway when I join the WSW team in the heart of Bigg Market on a blustery Saturday night in October. An amber wind warning began at 9pm, and litter, leaves and bottles career down the street towards me. Here’s how my night panned out.

10-11pm: I join nine other volunteers, three of whom are designated team leaders, all wearing pink high-vis vests, for a short briefing. Two men separately approach requesting food and drink, one of whom is intoxicated and promptly makes himself at home in the back of our supplies van. “We’ve had nights where it feels like all we’ve done is help men, administering serious first aid and paying for taxis for men who need it,” says team leader Evie. “But I’m never going to turn someone away.”

Trying to secure the bright pink gazebo and camping chairs that constitute the WSW base in strong winds is a challenge. Despite the weather, the number of people out is astonishing, although I’m later told it’s been “a quiet one”. They’re matched by a heavy police presence – I count 10 officers – plus several ambulances. There’s an electricity in the air and I can’t help but feel trepidatious about the night ahead.

A young woman approaches, having lost her friends. “A common issue,” Evie tells me. “Their phone might be dead and the service here is shocking. Our pink tent is a good landmark for people to reunite.”

A small group of us go on patrol around the area, including quieter backstreets away from the maelstrom. We’re treated like celebrities. “Youse are the queens of the street!” shouts one woman. Another approaches us for a selfie and a man comes over to shake our hand. “I work for the police – I love what you do,” he says.

That’s not the whole story, however. Throughout the night, I’m surprised by the number of hostile stares and sneers we’re subject to by passing men. “We get a lot of men who simply can’t wrap their head around why we exist,” Evie says.

11pm-midnight: A woman requests flip flops, while the team helps a second secure her vertiginous stiletto with masking tape before she totters away. The gazebo is dismantled due to high winds.

“About 80 per cent of what we do is preventative,” Evie tells me. “Fifteen per cent is more serious – serious intoxication, for example – where we’ll work with paramedics. And about five per cent are incidents such as violence or sexual assault; we’re often the first responders on the scene.”

Two volunteers rub the back of a girl who is vomiting. People in fancy dress stagger past; a rousing rendition of “Sweet Caroline” fills the air.

Volunteers escort a woman safely into her taxi, checking the car’s registration plate against that on her app. Evie relays the story of how a WSW patrol spotted a woman climbing into a car without licence plates, prompting them to alert police. Their swift actions led authorities to uncover a trafficking ring.

Revellers continue to flood down the street. Two women come to charge their phones, settling into the pink chairs, while volunteers provide them with warm blankets. “Have you had enough of men?!” cries one to another pair of women who have approached for water; they cheer.
A woman sits on a bench looking fearful while a man towers over her, shouting aggressively. A WSW volunteer alerts nearby police who approach to assess the situation.

The volunteers perform star jumps to keep warm. Despite a recent recruitment drive that attracted 60 new volunteers, retaining them is a challenge. “Being outside in the cold and rain can be hard work,” admits Evie. The team consoles a woman who is crying with her friend to see if there’s anything she needs; another volunteer wraps a blanket around a shivering woman who awaits her taxi.

Conversations with the WSW volunteers reveal that many of them have first-hand experiences of sexual violence, harassment and drink-spiking, factors inspiring their decision to become involved with the project. “I wish I’d had someone to intervene,” Kira, one of the other team leaders, tells me. “Being able to stop that from happening on a night out is a really good feeling.”

1-2am: My Met Office app says it “feels like” 5°. I’m wearing five layers – including a long-sleeved merino wool top, a wool jumper, a padded gilet, a winter sports jacket and a woolly hat – but the cold is setting in. This work is not for the weak.

A paramedic asks if we can safely accompany a woman down a quiet alley to meet her waiting boyfriend. Another woman approaches in floods of tears and is spoken to gently and calmly before being wrapped in blankets; the care and respect volunteers show to everyone who attends, regardless of their intoxication, is inspirational.

The team are alerted to a pair of young women who say there are men harassing them outside a bar. A few of the team head over, where a fight breaks out between two women. “I was outside and heard her head connect with the floor,” says one volunteer. The team attends to a woman with a nosebleed. The wind has picked up and we contend with increasingly strong gusts.

2am: It’s home time. I’m frozen to the bone and extremely grateful to retire; spending the night in such a chaotic environment among very drunk people is one of the last places I’d choose to spend my precious Saturday evening, further deepening my respect for the women who do.

For the WSW team, however, it’s just another shift. “We need funding, more training for bouncers and night-life staff,” Evie says when asked what a genuinely safer Newcastle would look like for women and girls. “Nationally, police need more training on how to effectively deal with violence against women and girl. Shifts can be full-on, but I love them – I learn so much. It’s never a chore.”

Visit womensstreetwatch.com