The Things We Lost

There were three situations yesterday that, when combined, reminded me that being a girl/lady/female, can be challenging.

Situation 1: One of my friends was creepily stalked at an unnamed Ohio rest stop, and realized how creepy predators are.

Situation 2: I went to a 6 hour bluegrass marathon (not entirely by choice, since we can safely say that's not really my scene) and almost all of the bands were all male. Out of 5 groups, each with 5 members or more, there were only 3 women there, out of 25. It was a reminder of all of the challenges that face women in music, especially in male dominated genres.

Situation 3: I watched the movie, "The Lovely Bones," which is based on one of my favorite books by Alice Sebold. Obviously, the movie was flawed and by no means perfect, but it still got the main issues across: an innocent 14 year old girl is raped and murdered in 1973 in the middle of suburban PA. She narrates the story, watching down on her family's suffering and slow recovery from her death. The book is way better, but the movie managed to still make an impact on me. I cried when Susie Salmon can't escape from her killer, even though I've known she was going to die for 6 years since I first read the book. My heartbeat went out of control when her sister breaks into her killers house, and finds evidence that he killed Susie. And in the end, Susie meets all of the other girls that were murdered by the same man, and I cried the most, knowing that there are serial killers, rapists, and criminals who have no guilt about kidnapping children, and killing them.

Most women I know have had some sort of brush with sexism, sexually inappropriate conversation, or harassment. Some have dealt with much worse things than I have, and others much less. But in the end, we all deal with something, either through our own lives, our friends', or worse, our children's. I would hardly say that my brush with these issues has been significant-I've known people who were sexually abused by their family, or date-raped, both situations which are far more grave and troubling. But I have still had my own experiences, both of which unfortunately occurred within the first few months of college, back in 2004.

The first event was at the 2004 election, in which Kerry, a Boston favorite, ran against GWB, and subsequently lost. In Boston, there was a huge rally/viewing/festive gathering in Copley square, and one of my newish friends wanted to go. A few top 40 music stars were going to perform (Bon Jovi, Sheryl Crow, The Black-Eyed Peas) and it was free. It sounded pretty harmless, even if it was raining a bit. We walked to the square, and got in line- we could see the concert, but there was an inner sanctum that you had to be let into by the police/guards. We waited around for a while, like sardines in a container, being pushed and shoved, but mostly left to our own devices. After an hour or so, we got close to the divider between the crowd at large, and the close-up concert area. We were in the front row, next to each other, and people were so close to us, that we paid them no notice. Sadly, in the dark confines of the square, a young man, probably still in college, began to grope me. He was much bigger than I was, probably 6'2 or 6'3, and by the time I knew what was happening, he was breathing down my neck and rubbing my back. I kept trying to shake him off, but there was nowhere to go. My friend was talking to someone next to her, and I in turn, had no way of letting her know what was going on, since I was effectively immobilized. He never dared to touch the front of my body, because that would have revealed himself to the others. But his body was right behind mine, and I could feel (unfortunately, one of the worst things ever) him rubbing his groin area all along my lower back. He was clothed, but it was an awful experience nonetheless, to be a recipient of an unwanted dry-hump in public, with thousands of people surrounding me, not seeing. I suppose to other people, it looked like I knew him, even though I kept trying to elbow him in the midsection. I remember stepping on his feet, and elbowing him, and him just laughing, and his friends laughing. It was pretty tragic at the time, simply because I was crying, and had no escape. I couldn't move anywhere, forwards or sideways, and I didn't know what to do, since I could see no exit from the situation. It wasn't my friend's fault, she talked to me while it was happening, but she couldn't see what was happening in the pitch black dark-everyone was so close, that it probably just looked like he was a bit close. I couldn't tell her what was happening, I was too afraid. While he was breathing down my neck and pushing my shoulder blades together, I was fearful that he might even have a weapon, or that if I told someone, something much much worse would happen.

After about ten or fifteen minutes, the line finally moved, and my friend and I were let into the inner sanctum. As soon as we were let in, I moved as far away from the entrance as possible, and I was a bit of a killjoy for the rest of the evening. My friend was so excited about supporting Kerry and getting rid of GWB that I didn't have the heart to tell her what had just happened. I know I should've told her, but I never did.

I never saw their faces, but I have always imagined what he and his friends looked like: large jocks, used to sleeping with lots of women, never thinking twice about their actions. That's probably one of many reasons that I'm slightly terrified of overly muscular men-it reminds me of a certain personality, a certain flagrant disregard for other people in most situations. If something like that happened now, I would probably defend my territory much more than I did then. But then again, I had just turned 18, and I had spent all of high school being melancholy and mopey. I wasn't exactly prepared to defend my rights as a woman, or to demand that justice be served. I was being preyed upon, because I was young, innocent, and afraid. It's amazing what fear can do to you, how irrational and paranoid it can make you. It was an awful experience, and barely holds a candle to some of the more awful things that happen to women in this world.

The second unfortunate experience, which was entirely unexpected, occurred on a brisk afternoon in December, (brisk by California standards) in which I was walking home from the post office, approximately 10 minutes away. I was walking on a fairly busy street, and a sketchy man on a bike began following me. He asked me directions for a street, and I told him to go straight and turn left. I watched him as he turned right on a residential street in my neighborhood, and I paid him no mind. I turned right on my street when I got to it, and proceeded walking towards my house. I heard the sound of a bike behind me on the street, and I saw the same man, wearing glasses, with scraggly facial hair, and dark clothes. He pulled up next to me, showed me his penis, and asked me if I would suck him. I remember thinking that I wouldn't let the first experience happen again, and I reached into my bag and began feeling for my cell phone. I told him, with a tremor in my voice, that I would report him to the cops and to leave me alone. I was in much less danger this time, simply because I was on a street with houses, even if no one was outside, and I knew that I was only a three minute walk from home. I watched him pull up his pants, and turn left on a side street, as I walked as fast as I could home. I remember looking back every few seconds, in fear that he would be there, and that I would have no power to do anything, but I made it. I ran up to my house, tremulously unlocked the door, and began crying. No one was home of course, since it was a weekday, and I ended up sitting on my living room rug holding my dog, while I cried. I remember trying to call my dad at work, but I didn't want to leave a message. I called the cops, and tried to explain the situation, but it was difficult to explain, and they didn't really pay my call much notice. I left a panicked message on my friend's cell phone (she lived in Missouri) since I had no one to call, and I just sat in my house, shaking from the encounter.

I never told my parents about either of these things. I never had the courage to do that, and I never wanted to make them worry more than they already did. It was bad enough that I went to college 3,000 miles away, but to have been a victim of a crime while there would have been awful for them. This was the time when I knew I needed to transfer schools-my viola teacher was being awful, and was gossiping about me to other students, and I was worried that I wouldn't find a new teacher to study with or school to attend. My parents were already worried about me, most of the time, and I never found the courage to tell them what really happened. I had dreams about both of these situations for months long after they happened. My friends were very supportive and understanding-I only told two or three of my closest friends. I didn't think the encounters were worth discussing, but in hindsight, they were awful experiences. The feelings of absolute fear and terror were awful, and I would never wish those upon anyone else. In that way, I still believe that no matter the strides our world has made politically and socially, there are still significant crimes against women, children, homosexuals, and others. We must stand up for others' rights whenever possible, and show kindness to those in need. No one deserves to live in such fear, even if for a moment.

"I wish you all a long and happy life."-Susie from "the lovely bones"