So, I'm sure most of you, my loyal readers, are aware of the fact that I have been horrendously sick these past couple of days. It started on Sunday, with a nasty spiky/sore throat which has since morphed into one day of nasty coughing all day long, and then one day of sneezing and phlegm. God only knows what tomorrow will bring, but, at the very least, I'm like 95% sure my fever broke early this morning at about 4 AM, so I'm definitely on the mend. Yay!
Anyways, I'd spent about ... 48 hours indoors, about 30 of which were asleep in some form or another, and I had just woken up at around 5:30 this afternoon when I decided that I'd been inside for far too long, feeling a little (read: WAY) too much like death, so I figured it'd be a good idea to go on a little jaunt up the hill to the nearby 7-11 and get some nasal decongestant and Coca-Cola (Hong Kong home remedy that my mom has made for me and my brother since we were little kids ... who knows if it's actually medicinally useful, but it tastes like home when all I want to do is feel like I'm at home).
A little walking to get the blood moving and feel the fresh air always perks me right up, it was still bright out, and I really needed some more medicine. So I set off! Like it was a grand adventure or something (it really wasn't ... most sane adventurers tend not to go adventuring when they should be curled up in bed). Also, admittedly, it was pretty slow going because I'm still relatively weak from not eating a much, so not really in the vein of grand adventuring.
So I was walking up my street slowly when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a random guy approaching me. Ish. So I tried to think nothing of it, kept walking, and sped up a little bit, thinking the guy would just get on the sidewalk behind me and I wouldn't have to think of him anymore.
But he didn't.
He sped up to meet me.
Instead of slowing down to walk a few paces behind me, he stepped onto the sidewalk directly behind me.
Never have I ever been so freaked out by someone walking behind me.
Now, like I said earlier, it was probably about 5:30, there were people meandering about, people walking their dogs, people getting off of work. There was little to no reason to be afraid, but all I could think about was the overwhelming anxiety that this random guy who stepped up onto the sidewalk directly behind me was causing me.
I sped up, putting a good distance between him and me, exerting myself probably more than I should have
I went over all the things I've learned in the past in terms of self-defense ... the one semester I've taken of martial arts wasn't really going to do me any good; I was way too weak and fuzzy in the brain to be able to defend myself. I'm a loud person, but with my voice gone, I don't think I'd have been able to scream very loud ... I had keys in my bag on a lanyard that would hurt like hell if I swung it at someone, but by the time he would have gotten to me, he would be far too close for that to work, but it was a semi-viable option. I thought about the statistics ... women are usually assaulted by people they know, not the random person on the street. I remembered: when you are worried about being followed, you are supposed to turn around, face the guy and ask him a direct question ... like, "do you have the time?". Supposedly, once you have made contact, once you have seen his face, the chances for an offender to actually attack goes down. I'd forgotten my watch, so there's a chance the ruse would work. But it shouldn't have mattered! There were people all around ... if he tried anything there'd be witnesses left and right.
I turned up the street and decided to jaywalk across the road. If anything, I'd know if the guy was really following me if he followed me across the street illegally. He probably wouldn't and then I could laugh quite heartily at the fact that I'm a paranoid little nutter.
Knowing I had a tad bit of space on him, I walked into the street and waited for cars to pass; while I was waiting, I turned and stared at him. If anything, I'd have a clear picture of what this guy looked like. He was a normal-looking white guy! 5'10"-6', stocky, buttoned-down shirt and pants. If I remember properly, he even had his headphones in. I didn't have to be afraid of this guy; I was going crazy!
There were cars coming up the street, but there was a little bit of a gap, so I hoofed it across the street. The cars whizzed by. I made it to other side of the street, and the guy was stuck on the side we had started on. Now was about the time when I could breathe easier because I was sure that I had been making up the whole "he's following me!" thing, and I was just way overreacting.
I turned around to look back so I could laugh at myself.
He was standing where I had crossed the street, waiting for cars to pass so he could cross as well.
My heart sunk. There's a crosswalk all the way up the street that he could have walked to that would 1. be safer and 2. be actually legal for him to cross at, but he chose to cross when I had. I didn't know what to think! I started walking quickly again up the street. A little while later, I looked back and saw him walking on the other side of the street, and I figured ... he really wasn't following me!! Everything was okay. I was just being stupid and paranoid.
I stole a glance down an alley. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to run through one of those and really have him not know where I went. Nah! He's on the other side of the street; I have nothing to worry about except that I have an overactive imagination.
I looked back across the street: he was gone.
I panicked. There was a chance he had gone into one of the buildings on the other side of the street, but ... I didn't really think that was a probability.
I looked behind me: he had crossed over to my side of the street.
I sped up my walking, trying to get to the end of the street so I could turn, but then what? I'd run into 7-11, he'd know where I'd gone ... I didn't want to walk straight back to my apartment after that and let him know where I lived.
A little bit before the intersection, there was a parking lot which connected to the perpendicular street I was trying to get to, but would mean that I would turn the corner early and the guy wouldn't know where I had been walking to. As soon as I turned the corner, I ran.
Now, mind you, I'm still not feeling too hot. I've got some nasty phlegm and I'm coughing all over the place, but I just wanted for him to not know where I was headed because all those turns and street crossings that he copied were just far too much for me to overlook as coincidence.
It was 5:45 in the afternoon and I was genuinely afraid that this random man was going to try to mug, kidnap, or rape me.
I know, I know, it's a case of overreacting, right? I'm obviously fine now, so we can just chalk it up to my illness-addled mind being paranoid and over-imaginative.
Wait a minute-- what?!
Let's think about this whole situation for a second.
Facts:
1. I am sick.
2. I am going on a walk to get some medicine.
3. It is still daylight; there are more people out and about than I expected there to be.
4. A strange man copies the movements I've made when there were plenty of other routes to take.
5. I am genuinely afraid that this random man was going to try to hurt me in some way.
What kind of culture do we live in that it's a norm that a woman is afraid for her well-being when she leaves her own residence? This isn't a third-world country; this isn't the Middle East where a woman has to be escorted when she leaves the house. This is America! Freedom and Equality!
Yet I was shit-terrified of this boogie man coming to get me. At 5:45 in the afternoon.
Nothing about my body language or what I was wearing said I was "asking for it" (which, oh my God, don't even get me started on what kind of eff-ed up ideology that is). I was in a lumpy sweater to keep myself warm, basketball shorts, and flip flops. I definitely had bed-head, I never do my make up, and from what most people have been telling me the past couple days, I look like crap. There was no "asking for it" involved AT ALL.
I figured this quick jaunt would get my blood running, and it sure as hell did. But it didn't make me feel better; it made me feel WORSE. Because I had to run away, because I had to be afraid for my own safety and well-being in a situation where I really should not have had to be worried.
This idea that a woman always has to be looking out for her own safety is just WRONG. The idea that a woman should always be aware of her surroundings, even with friends, is WRONG. The idea that it's a woman's fault when she gets attacked is WRONG. I'm not saying that I won't continue to look out for myself when I leave my apartment; I'm saying that the mentality that women are forced to take on when they go out is completely inappropriate in this 21st century world.
No matter how sick or wasted or incapacitated a girl feels, she should never have to worry about her safety; she should be able to KNOW that she is safe in the environment that she has chosen, but, sadly, that is not the truth of the matter. The truth of the matter is scared, sick girls running across the street at 5:45 in the afternoon to get away from the guy who won't stop following her. The truth of the matter is driving around the block for ten extra minutes just to be sure that the guy who made the turn a little to close behind you isn't actually following you home. The truth of the matter is going to the bathroom in groups, not because it's social hour, but because the guy leering at you across the bar has obviously not taken well to you turning down his drink offers.
The truth of the matter is: the safety of a woman shouldn't have to be completely up to the woman herself. The safety of a woman should be up to her society. And society -- men, women, authority figures, ordinary people -- should all teach and enforce the idea that a woman is not a something; she is a someONE.
And she is someone important, and she should not have to be afraid for her safety.
--Tiffany
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