good idea: kick back with a friend & a cold one in the comfort & confines of your humble abode.
bad idea: raucously kick back with a raucous friend & a cold twenty-four in the public stairwell such that residents one floor up can smell the shitty beer from their doorsteps, & drunk ogle/leer at/make supremely uncomfortable in her own building a female resident who is trying to walk by, mind her own business, & take her dog outside.
*don't piss me off, assholes. i don't lose.
i don't often get angry in public. in fact, rarely is there occasion to make my blood pressure rise when i'm out & about. sure, i might get annoyed at the vehicular fuckhead who nearly pings off three other cars so that he can drive 100 miles an hour to get to Baltimore Suburbia, but i don't lose my temper & start screaming from a mountaintop because he's an idiot.
however. (*there's always a 'however.' didn't you know?) however, there is one class of behavior that is nigh guaranteed to ignite my wrath & bring it raining down upon you like the very fires of hell: sexual harassment.
aside from the obvious, why does it piss me off so? here are a few reasons.
1) the summer before my freshman year in college, i was out for a run, & some assholes came up behind me, slowed their truck to a crawl in order to stay with me, whistled, & hollered for me to "take a ride" with them (the cleanest of their propositions). it was only when traffic pulled up that the driver of the Douchebag Chariot had to return to normal speed & move on. however, when i came over the hill, there was the truck, filling at the gas station, with four jerks hanging out, watching the road. i wasn't going to let them frighten me, so i just ran past, through the light, & up the next hill. i thought, "hey, i'll be fine, game's over," though i knew i was lying to myself just to feel better. sure enough, not two minutes later, the same truck showed up, same guys, same lewd behavior. the worst part? they were laughing. apparently trying to pick up an obviously uncomfortable, angry, & alone girl was fucking hilars. again, other cars eventually forced them forward. after all the vehicles had passed,i was so scared that i darted across the road into a nearby wood that i knew by heart, avoided the trails, then ran into a fully grown corn field, & winding my way to some back streets until i could sprint the whole very-out-of-the-way-&-1+ mile-long route home.
2) fast forward a few years later, when i was waiting with friends at a crowded DC metro station, & someone (who definitely was not the guy i was dating at the time) grabbed my ass to get his jollies. that someone didn't know whose ass he'd grabbed. i'm not the kind to giggle out of embarrassment or run crying the other way (i'd grown a pair since college, or so i thought--see next reason). instead, before he realized what was going on, i'd grabbed his hand, gripping it with an anger that frightened me, & refused to let go. in a volume & tone that would require bold-faced, italicized, red caps, & a thousand exclamation points here, i got in his face--"what the hell are you doing?" "who the fuck are you?" "get the hell off me!" throwing his hand down, i had no interest in involving the metro police, although by then everyone present had stopped their own mingling & were turned, staring at the crimson-faced jack-ass. he quickly tried to scurry away through the startled & the disdainful, & while it took him far too long for my taste, he eventually disappeared.
3) & finally, nearly three years ago, i experienced a repeat of that freshman summer. this time though, i was more fit than i'd been in a while. i'd been a distance runner for nearly twenty years, i'd completed a marathon, half-marathon, & a triathlon, & as an avid weightlifter, felt pretty sure that i could take care of myself. that March afternoon, i started out for a run, just like any other, & headed out from the gym. this time, i would not get so far. a mere half mile from a very commercial area & in a highly populated picket-fenced neighborhood, i could feel it. i didn't want to look because, even though it was almost thirteen years later, the tingling beneath my skin was too familiar. my breath shortened, which, for an up-tempo workout, isn't good when you haven't even upped your HR yet. anyway, it was just as i expected; two guys in a low-riding honda started the cat-calling, the invitations, the following. i tried adjusting my speed. they sped up or slowed down as necessary. i tried ignoring them. they pulled over on the wrong side of the road to get closer. then, like a blessing from heaven, other traffic showed up. as soon as the guys were far enough away, i turned around & straight up burned the sidewalk running back to the gym. i told the general manager, a friend of mine who hugged me & let me cry for i don't know how long in his office, & he called the cops & sent out an email to all gym members, warning them to be careful when out running. two weeks after this was over, i stopped running, quit the gym i loved, & stepped into a dojo for the first time. if it would ever come to someone taking me down, i wasn't going to go down without a fight.
***
there are other events that add to this list. some were easier in terms of recovery, & one has been burned into my soul for almost eight years. i have been harassed by old men, frat boys, & thirteen year olds. it angers the hell out of me that certain human beings think it's okay to proclaim their single-minded, hurtfullust desire to possess & control women. that someone, somewhere, missed the boat on telling & modeling for them how a woman deserves to be treated AND not holding them accountable for mistreatment is a grave wrong that sometimes seems as if it will never be made right. i resent that i was made to fear a healthy activity that i'd so loved since i was twelve. i try being strong now, but i still have trouble reclaiming this part of my identity & strangling the fear out of it.
even with training that has enabled me, if necessary, to break ribs with a body kick, knock off jaws with a Cuban uppercut, and dislocate shoulders with a kimura, there's a maelström of underground fear & shame. yeah, those moves & the potential game-changing power behind them sound bad-ass, & i no longer have to feel like the prey of brainless, primordial animals, but i take umbrage that i had to learn it all in the first place. now, as word has spread, my students & colleagues know what i can do, & some of them treat me like i'm scary, like i'd drop them & put them in a rear naked choke. the adults joke about it. 'oh, there's a fight? don't worry! Beatty will show up & stop it! but don't get in her way! hahahaha!'
newsflash: the reason i had to pick up these skills? not funny. sick men & boys with eyes only for tits & an ass, mentally undressing me & acting such that i know it, who have no sense of decency & think that some women actually get off on this kind of ignorance...
go ahead. you have a run-in with them. you go for a jog, & you get followed. you look up local martial arts schools after the fact, after you first consider which weapons might be legal to carry just so you can go workout. & for those who still don't see it? replace "you" with "your mother." "your aunt." "your sister." "your daughter." see how that makes you feel, how it makes her feel. see how it changes your life, how it changes her life.
i'm done.
bad idea: raucously kick back with a raucous friend & a cold twenty-four in the public stairwell such that residents one floor up can smell the shitty beer from their doorsteps, & drunk ogle/leer at/make supremely uncomfortable in her own building a female resident who is trying to walk by, mind her own business, & take her dog outside.
*don't piss me off, assholes. i don't lose.
i don't often get angry in public. in fact, rarely is there occasion to make my blood pressure rise when i'm out & about. sure, i might get annoyed at the vehicular fuckhead who nearly pings off three other cars so that he can drive 100 miles an hour to get to Baltimore Suburbia, but i don't lose my temper & start screaming from a mountaintop because he's an idiot.
however. (*there's always a 'however.' didn't you know?) however, there is one class of behavior that is nigh guaranteed to ignite my wrath & bring it raining down upon you like the very fires of hell: sexual harassment.
aside from the obvious, why does it piss me off so? here are a few reasons.
1) the summer before my freshman year in college, i was out for a run, & some assholes came up behind me, slowed their truck to a crawl in order to stay with me, whistled, & hollered for me to "take a ride" with them (the cleanest of their propositions). it was only when traffic pulled up that the driver of the Douchebag Chariot had to return to normal speed & move on. however, when i came over the hill, there was the truck, filling at the gas station, with four jerks hanging out, watching the road. i wasn't going to let them frighten me, so i just ran past, through the light, & up the next hill. i thought, "hey, i'll be fine, game's over," though i knew i was lying to myself just to feel better. sure enough, not two minutes later, the same truck showed up, same guys, same lewd behavior. the worst part? they were laughing. apparently trying to pick up an obviously uncomfortable, angry, & alone girl was fucking hilars. again, other cars eventually forced them forward. after all the vehicles had passed,i was so scared that i darted across the road into a nearby wood that i knew by heart, avoided the trails, then ran into a fully grown corn field, & winding my way to some back streets until i could sprint the whole very-out-of-the-way-&-1+ mile-long route home.
2) fast forward a few years later, when i was waiting with friends at a crowded DC metro station, & someone (who definitely was not the guy i was dating at the time) grabbed my ass to get his jollies. that someone didn't know whose ass he'd grabbed. i'm not the kind to giggle out of embarrassment or run crying the other way (i'd grown a pair since college, or so i thought--see next reason). instead, before he realized what was going on, i'd grabbed his hand, gripping it with an anger that frightened me, & refused to let go. in a volume & tone that would require bold-faced, italicized, red caps, & a thousand exclamation points here, i got in his face--"what the hell are you doing?" "who the fuck are you?" "get the hell off me!" throwing his hand down, i had no interest in involving the metro police, although by then everyone present had stopped their own mingling & were turned, staring at the crimson-faced jack-ass. he quickly tried to scurry away through the startled & the disdainful, & while it took him far too long for my taste, he eventually disappeared.
3) & finally, nearly three years ago, i experienced a repeat of that freshman summer. this time though, i was more fit than i'd been in a while. i'd been a distance runner for nearly twenty years, i'd completed a marathon, half-marathon, & a triathlon, & as an avid weightlifter, felt pretty sure that i could take care of myself. that March afternoon, i started out for a run, just like any other, & headed out from the gym. this time, i would not get so far. a mere half mile from a very commercial area & in a highly populated picket-fenced neighborhood, i could feel it. i didn't want to look because, even though it was almost thirteen years later, the tingling beneath my skin was too familiar. my breath shortened, which, for an up-tempo workout, isn't good when you haven't even upped your HR yet. anyway, it was just as i expected; two guys in a low-riding honda started the cat-calling, the invitations, the following. i tried adjusting my speed. they sped up or slowed down as necessary. i tried ignoring them. they pulled over on the wrong side of the road to get closer. then, like a blessing from heaven, other traffic showed up. as soon as the guys were far enough away, i turned around & straight up burned the sidewalk running back to the gym. i told the general manager, a friend of mine who hugged me & let me cry for i don't know how long in his office, & he called the cops & sent out an email to all gym members, warning them to be careful when out running. two weeks after this was over, i stopped running, quit the gym i loved, & stepped into a dojo for the first time. if it would ever come to someone taking me down, i wasn't going to go down without a fight.
***
there are other events that add to this list. some were easier in terms of recovery, & one has been burned into my soul for almost eight years. i have been harassed by old men, frat boys, & thirteen year olds. it angers the hell out of me that certain human beings think it's okay to proclaim their single-minded, hurtful
even with training that has enabled me, if necessary, to break ribs with a body kick, knock off jaws with a Cuban uppercut, and dislocate shoulders with a kimura, there's a maelström of underground fear & shame. yeah, those moves & the potential game-changing power behind them sound bad-ass, & i no longer have to feel like the prey of brainless, primordial animals, but i take umbrage that i had to learn it all in the first place. now, as word has spread, my students & colleagues know what i can do, & some of them treat me like i'm scary, like i'd drop them & put them in a rear naked choke. the adults joke about it. 'oh, there's a fight? don't worry! Beatty will show up & stop it! but don't get in her way! hahahaha!'
newsflash: the reason i had to pick up these skills? not funny. sick men & boys with eyes only for tits & an ass, mentally undressing me & acting such that i know it, who have no sense of decency & think that some women actually get off on this kind of ignorance...
go ahead. you have a run-in with them. you go for a jog, & you get followed. you look up local martial arts schools after the fact, after you first consider which weapons might be legal to carry just so you can go workout. & for those who still don't see it? replace "you" with "your mother." "your aunt." "your sister." "your daughter." see how that makes you feel, how it makes her feel. see how it changes your life, how it changes her life.
i'm done.
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