"Hey gorgeous," called the forty-something year-old man from his silver Honda as he slowed down to talk to me, "where are you headed? You need a ride?"
Embarrassed to be called to (especially wearing the ankle-length grandma skirt and frumpy sweater I was sporting), I replied, "No, thank you, I am just headed right up the street to the bus stop."
"Oh, I mean after that, you pretty thing; I can drop you wherever," he assured me.
"Well, thanks for the offer, but I rather like riding the bus, thanks."
"Ahh, come on gorgeous," he moaned as he pulled his car closer to me, "I can be your boyfriend for the day. I can take you to school, pick you up, take you to dinner, and afterward..."
"No thanks," I interrupted, as I was pretty sure I did not care to hear the rest of that.
His temper rose, "Oh, what...you some kind of lesbian or somethin'? Cause I would pay a whole lot of money to watch that. Come on gorgeous, get your pretty ass in the car and let me take you home with me."
At this point my hands were shaking, if he grabbed me and pulled me into his car on this street...no one would see, no one would hear. Two more blocks until there would be people, maybe not even people that would help me, but at least people. He was becoming angry, as I just kept repeating, "No thank you, no thank you, no thank you."
"Don't fuck with me honey, just get in the car."
"No."
We rounded the corner to see there had been a car accident, which meant loads of firemen were gathered just across the street from my bus stop. What to do, what do I do...run. So, I did just that. I ran. I ran and my eyes filled with tears and one of the firemen turned around just as I was a few yards away. I grasped both of his hands with mine and gasped, "This man has been following me for four blocks, please help." Just in time for Mr. silver honda to peel out, run the red light, and be too far away for anyone to figure out who he was.
After taking a moment to calm down, I became angry at myself for feeling so helpless. But, honestly, what could have been done differently, nothing. I suppose I assumed that dressing and acting rather conservatively would protect you from this kind of harassment. The difficult truth is, nothing can protect you from this kind of harassment. Maybe getting some pepper spray, or a tazer or something would be of some use, but at the end of the day, that would not have kept this man from calling out to me, or propositioning me, or cursing at me from his car. Nor would it keep my hands from sweating and my heart from pounding, because sexual harassment and rape are scary things, and everyone's hearts should pound when the subject comes up. And it comes up often: approximately 1 in 6 women and 1 in 33 men are sexually assaulted in their lifetimes.
Anyhow, this morning was eventful, to say the least, and I felt that I could not go on with the rest of my day until I told someone about it. So, I'm telling all of you. Keep a lookout for a middle-aged man in a silver honda in the Muller area (East 51st Street).
Love,
C
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2 comments:
i'm sorry to hear. i guess it's why i carry a knife and mace when i travel, but you're right that some violence is simply non-contexual and there's little you can do except avoid it. i think i probably would have pulled out my phone to call 911 and read his license plate to the receptionist before running.
Jesus christo, thats appalling. I am so sorry that you were targeted; it is so scary. This story reminds me of the time I was driving down 360 with the windows down and this older man in a beamer pulled up next to me and started being like "Hey baby, are you married? Wanna get in my car and have some fun?" And shit like that. He did it to another Westlake girl a few days later. I overheard her bragging about it in calculus. Because that is just so flattering.
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