Sept. 18th: Prologue
As a 18 year old woman working with the public, I am no stranger to being reminded of the daily realities of what it means to be a woman in this world.
My real, crude awakening began long after the catcalls first did; I remember being 12 and walking down the street in Randolph, Vermont, of all places, when my first encounter with a middle aged man yelling something obscene about my body would occur; this would not be the final time, nor even close to the most upsetting experience.
No, the real, crude awakening, AKA the series of bad events spanning from May of this year, to today, began on a late spring evening, while I was working behind the counter at Subway, my former employer.
I was the only employee working at the counter at the time, and it was already dark out. It must have been after 8 PM, because I was beginning to close down the shop. I remember seeing a younger man, probably in his 20s, that I recognized as a previous customer, walking by the store with two friends of a similar age and size. They immediately all stared in to the shop as they passed by, and then walked out of sight... until, that is, they all came back in front of the window minutes later to take pictures of me on their smartphones.
This night gave way to :
-A threatening man following me home at night and getting close enough behind me to grab me arm (who was only stopped because my male partner saw him and yelled until he left)
-Countless derisions yelled at me haphazardly from moving vehicles,
-Two separate men over the age of fifty engaging me in (I thought, obviously) not wanted conversation about how much they "liked" me and how pretty they thought I was,
...And even an older man sliding a note over the counter to me at my current job (as a bank teller, no less- I thought I was being robbed!) saying that "I could trust him", that he trusted me, and invited me to join him on a "special, private adventure".
In the past 3 months, I bought a police-grade Taser. I began lifting weights. I became afraid of walking home in general, and no longer leave any building without scanning the exit for one of my harassers. I have felt profoundly disrespected, disempowered, and disregarded. I have felt anger, fear, and a lot of sadness. I have been broken down a little, my once rock-solid sense of empowerment has been shaking.
And now, I think I've finally figured out what to do with it.
I will no longer smile, nod and look down, waiting for those men to take a hint and leave me alone.
I will not pretend to enjoy these conversations. I will not subject myself to these situations any longer.
I will not be a "nice" woman, a "sweet" girl, anymore. I will not attach greater importance how others think of me, than my own comfort. My own sovereignty.
I will not bite my tongue, tasting bitter iron in my mouth while smiling roses.
I will say something. I might even say no.
I won't lie about what I want to do; I won't lie about what I don't.
This month, I will not give a f#ck.
This is day 1 of a journey. I will be documenting this month; Documenting my progress, my failures, and, most importantly, my harassers. I will not be letting it slide. I will be getting angry, speaking up, and I might even be nasty about it.
My real, crude awakening began long after the catcalls first did; I remember being 12 and walking down the street in Randolph, Vermont, of all places, when my first encounter with a middle aged man yelling something obscene about my body would occur; this would not be the final time, nor even close to the most upsetting experience.
No, the real, crude awakening, AKA the series of bad events spanning from May of this year, to today, began on a late spring evening, while I was working behind the counter at Subway, my former employer.
I was the only employee working at the counter at the time, and it was already dark out. It must have been after 8 PM, because I was beginning to close down the shop. I remember seeing a younger man, probably in his 20s, that I recognized as a previous customer, walking by the store with two friends of a similar age and size. They immediately all stared in to the shop as they passed by, and then walked out of sight... until, that is, they all came back in front of the window minutes later to take pictures of me on their smartphones.
This night gave way to :
-A threatening man following me home at night and getting close enough behind me to grab me arm (who was only stopped because my male partner saw him and yelled until he left)
-Countless derisions yelled at me haphazardly from moving vehicles,
-Two separate men over the age of fifty engaging me in (I thought, obviously) not wanted conversation about how much they "liked" me and how pretty they thought I was,
...And even an older man sliding a note over the counter to me at my current job (as a bank teller, no less- I thought I was being robbed!) saying that "I could trust him", that he trusted me, and invited me to join him on a "special, private adventure".
In the past 3 months, I bought a police-grade Taser. I began lifting weights. I became afraid of walking home in general, and no longer leave any building without scanning the exit for one of my harassers. I have felt profoundly disrespected, disempowered, and disregarded. I have felt anger, fear, and a lot of sadness. I have been broken down a little, my once rock-solid sense of empowerment has been shaking.
And now, I think I've finally figured out what to do with it.
I will no longer smile, nod and look down, waiting for those men to take a hint and leave me alone.
I will not pretend to enjoy these conversations. I will not subject myself to these situations any longer.
I will not be a "nice" woman, a "sweet" girl, anymore. I will not attach greater importance how others think of me, than my own comfort. My own sovereignty.
I will not bite my tongue, tasting bitter iron in my mouth while smiling roses.
I will say something. I might even say no.
I won't lie about what I want to do; I won't lie about what I don't.
This month, I will not give a f#ck.
This is day 1 of a journey. I will be documenting this month; Documenting my progress, my failures, and, most importantly, my harassers. I will not be letting it slide. I will be getting angry, speaking up, and I might even be nasty about it.
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