Girls Who Hitch: You don’t need a male teammate to Race2Prague

“You’re going to get kidnapped,” my flatmate fretted the night before I left. Not the most tactful thing to tell someone about to beg strangers to drive them across Europe, but she was genuinely worried for my safety. 

Most people reacted the same way when they heard we were taking part in Race2. We were hardly an intimidating presence on the roadside. Before the race, one teammate enjoyed shocking people with the knowledge that she was the tallest in our group. Her head just grazes 5’4” on the tape measure. To many people, we seemed exactly like the sort of group that should not be hitchhiking. 

Friends and family followed our progress. While my flatmate worried about me vanishing en-route, the reality is that Race2 has extensive safety measures. The Safety Team tracked our movements, and supporters followed our progress live on the Race2 website. We posted updates from each border we crossed and selfies with the strangers who helped us get there. 

The photos never captured the uncertainty of when our next lift would materialise, recorded the cold nights in petrol stations, or the chime of a slot machine every time you started to nod off. By the time we reached Budapest, however, they certainly caught the bags under our eyes.

These are probably the strongest arguments against signing up for Race2: repeated rejection, discomfort, and exhaustion. Yet these aren’t the reasons most girls hesitate to participate. 

Having tracked our trip, many friends who had previously claimed they “could never hitchhike” were now determined to sign up the following year. Lots of girls, however, had one stipulation: they would only take part with a guy.

They felt it was safer; a male teammate would help ward off anything bad from happening. I understand their perspective. We live in a society that’s more dangerous for women than men, but our perception of these dangers isn’t always accurate. The image of a threatening stranger is deeply ingrained in how we talk about safety, despite the fact that violence against women is mostly perpetrated by people they know.

According to the Office for National Statistics’ latest report on violent crime in England and Wales, a higher proportion of men were victims of violence by strangers in 2024 (1%) than women (0.4%). Yet many women, myself included, grow up with the impression that venturing into unfamiliar spaces alone is uniquely risky for us. 

Part of the reason lies in the messages women receive from childhood. We are constantly reminded of what could happen if we’re not careful. 

I am not dismissing genuine concerns about safety; we all decide individually which risks are worth taking in life. However, if the only thing stopping you from signing up for Race2 is the belief that you need a male teammate for protection, I think that’s worth questioning. 

Too often, women are taught that adventure is something to be approached cautiously, ideally with a man nearby. This implies not only that women are less safe, but that we are less qualified to manage risk. At some point, that message becomes self-fulfilling. We start ruling ourselves out of opportunities not because we want to, but because we’ve internalised the idea that we are less capable of navigating them alone. 

Three girls hitchhiked from Scotland to Budapest, not by ignoring risk, but by judging it for ourselves. It was exhausting, uncomfortable, and occasionally ridiculous. It’s also the best thing I’ve done at university. I don’t want girls to miss out on Race2Prague because they’ve been taught that adventure requires a male chaperone. 

Illustration by Anna Dickson