Living at the mercy of rapists

Whenever I read about rapes, there is this wrenching pain in my heart with twisting and twirling of my abdomen, tears all over my eyes and my body totally numb. I take every rape related news very personally not because I have had a similar experience in life but because I think if someone decides to rape me I'll be raped. I am scared that I might be just another story someday. While sharing these infuriating thoughts with one of my closest friends he scoffed and asked me "You need to stop viewing world with the lens of feminism. You are not a victim, your ranting isn't changing anything. Tell me what you can do?"

If I have to rant, I might rant on how unfair it is for us to feel threatened just to get out of our house not only at night but also in broad daylight. I would rant about how my choice of clothes determines my character. Meanwhile, I see men in shorts and sleeveless T-shirts and yet don't get aroused or tempted by their skin. That's probably because men do not have shiny and hairless skin like us? Or maybe because I have basic respect for another human's body, and choices. I would rant about how men shift their gaze from my eyes to my neck and fixate them over my chest while we share our thoughts. I would rant about all those times when I was groped publicly and asked to not get into public bus if my body is that fragile when I raised my voice. I would rant about my senior who mistook me drinking with him as a signal. But I don't rant about these. My expectations from men have fallen so low that I have accepted "men will be men'. So, whenever I meet a guy who treats women like human instead of an object I automatically think him to be the best man possible but all he is doing is behaving as human as possible.