My husband and I traveled to Richmond, Virginia, for a weekend, intending this to be our “babymoon.” I was five months pregnant with our daughter, our first. We had a late dinner reservation at a popular restaurant. We parked the car around the corner and were walking toward the place when we passed three people on the sidewalk. I said hello, and we kept walking, until we heard a command from behind us and turned to see a gun pointing at us both. I tossed my purse on the ground, and my husband his wallet, and we ran away. While we were both unharmed, we were left questioning our own safety. I still rarely go out after dark. I never want to walk alone, pay for the closest possible parking, and generally feel unsafe in cities — this after having lived in Washington D.C. for eight years, walking, biking and taking public transit most of that time.