Pigs

“Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.”
― Margaret Atwood

Yesterday, I was watching a documentary about the Golden state killer and I was struck by the presentation of the topic. They concentrated so much on Michelle McNamara’s story that the horror of what happened, beginning in the 70ies, got lost in translation.

It is striking how many men still do not know that there are many differences in how women live their lives. Almost every woman I know has frightening stories to tell that we dismiss as scary but normal. But they should not be cast aside a normal. We should not be afraid to walk in the dark. We should not be afraid to wear a skirt. We should not have to be afraid at all.

To all of you who do not understand why I am afraid every time I walk home I have here a few stories for you:

I was 12 when I was walking to the store to get some groceries for my mother. My brother, he was 9 at the time, was walking a few meters behind me. He did not want to go to the store and was walking really slowly while I was trying to get the job done. I kept turning around every few seconds to see if he was still there, to make sure nothing happened to him while I was still mad at him. I was wearing a brown t-shirt with a picture of a bear and it and a picture of the back of the bear on the back of the shirt and 7/8 pants when suddenly a car came around the corner and stopped in the middle of the street. I was a sunny summer day, so warm that no one was walking in the streets. The guy in the car was probably 18 or 20 years old. His window was open. He shouted at me something like “hey!” Pointed at his crotch and tried to get me to get into the car. I turned around for a quick check on my brother (I did not want him to get involved in this), I ignored the guy, kept walking and he eventually left. I was smart enough not to get into the car but, at the time I did not quite understand what had happened. When your parents tell you not to get into vans with strangers I’d always imagined some creepy old dude with a black van and a half open door, not a nice looking guy with a back street boys haircut, in a brand new and clean car. I had never assumed that bad people do not have to look like you see them in the movies.

I was 14 when I was standing in a bus with a few friends. The first time my mother allowed me to go into the city without my parents. My friend was sitting in front of me and we were talking as I felt something warm on my butt. I thought that something was touching it accidentally because of the bumpy ride. I moved a few centimetres forward and there it was again. That disgusting warm feeling. I turned around just to see a man in his 60ies with his hands behind his back. The one hand open, just to grab without it being to obvious. We quickly moved away from him and got out of the bus. The feeling I had is still burned in my head. It will never go away. I did not say anything, and I do not know if anyone saw him, but I was not equipped to deal with it. My parents told me not to get into cars with strangers or not to take candies from them, but they never told me what to do if someone starts touching you and you do not want to. They told me to respect the elderlies, but they never told me that not all elderlies have earned my respect. So, I stood there, scared, shocked, not knowing what to do or if to say something, still respecting that pig. And now I kind of wish we had a better system to deal with people like him. At that time, I wish someone would have cut his hand off, but we are civilized people, so we look the other way.

For those of you who still think that what women wear would make a difference in such a situation I was wearing a long brown t-shirt, so long in fact that it was covering my butt, and saggy grey pants. Nothing tight – it was the 2000s – and my fashion sense was not the best in those times (my Eminem/ hip hop phase. Nothing sexy, nothing even slightly beautiful.

The second time someone tried to get me into a car was the first time it happened at night. It was winter, I was waiting at the bus stop to go to a ball. I was wearing a dress and a thick and long coat. The car stopped a few meters from where I was standing, and someone opened the passenger door. They waited for, what felt like forever, until finally they closed the door and drove away. I was 15 at the time. I was scared and did not even know where to run to in case I needed to. The house we were living in was about 10-15 minutes away from the bus station. I was alone, the bus was late, but I was glad nothing happened.

I was 23, walking home from university on a very long winter day. It was starting to get dark and I had a 20-minute walk ahead of me to get home from the train station. A guy in a dark green car saw me walking, he pulled over and asked me for a lighter. I had one but I said no, kept walking and crossed to the other side of the street. He had to turn back into the roundabout and make a full turn to go were I was heading. My phone battery was already empty, and I was listening to music with my mp3-player, one ear plug in. I was walking past the part of a street without houses. Just a few trees on the left and the bottom of a bridge on my right, as he turned up in his car again. I could see lots of computer parts occupying the back and the truck of his car. He slowed down and began to ask me if we knew each other, how I was doing and how old I was. I was starting to panic. The nearest building, an indoor swimming pool, was still a few hundred meters away, I could try to run but I was pretty sure that a car is still quicker than I am. With my left hand I pulled out my mp3-player to turn off the music and, seeing the light, he must have thought, that was my phone, so he left quickly. I was relieved but I was still too shocked to think about looking at the plate number.  Still, I notified the police.

I was 26 when I was followed home by two men. It was late afternoon I was running errands in the city and took the bus to the student home I was living in at the time. I did not notice anything at first, but the bus stop I got off is never really crowded. I kept walking minding my business and noticed those two keeping distance, looking at me and talking to each other. I thought, I was being paranoid, but I picked up the pace, and took out my ear plugs, just in case. I passed a few houses and they kept following me. I tried not to look back and almost run to the student home. I shut the door behind me just in time to see them coming around the corner which was weird because the street was a dead end. Nothing there besides, the student homes and they definitely did not look like students. The stood there in the dark for a while. Waiting. But I decided to shut myself in my room. Lights off so they could not see where I was.

With 27 I got myself a cab to get home safe. The guy was about my age and we started Smalltalk, as you do in such situations. Suddenly he became really interested in where I was going and started asking questions like if I live alone. Of course, I told him I did not, nonetheless I was happy that we were almost there, and nothing happened. Same creepy question got asked to me by a delivery guy a few years later.

So far I did not mentioned the countless times when people grabbed my butt in a nightclub despite what I was wearing (I cannot remember the last time a wore a skirt) but I was still surprised when it happened in a gay bar. I was 28 and I was so confused by the fact that a homosexual had squeezed my butt. He apologised afterwards but I got the feeling that he felt entitled to do so as long as he apologised for it. No consequences. Everything is fine. After talking to the other girls, they told me that it is a normal thing that happens there all the time and I still do not understand how they can to something like that without feeling bad. It is not a big deal for them. But it is for us. It is not ok to touch people without permission. It is not ok even if they apologize and there should be consequences for doing so.  

Last year, I was 29, I was walking down the street at night. I have been at a friends’ house and hat to walk a little to get to the bus station. After a few minutes, a car slowed down beside me. The guy asked me for directions. He was looking for a street that I never heard before. I told him so and kept walking, but he was not satisfied. He asked me if I wanted a lift. If I could get into the car so I could show him the way. He offered to take me for a drink. All this while I was still walking and trying to ignore him. I have never been so happy about parked cars.  

I am fairly sure that I forgot a few stories and I know I got lucky. I heard from friends far more frightening stories where they barely made it home. Still, something like that should not happen so often. Should not happen at all. To all who think that we should not make a fuss about such small things: when is the last time you were afraid of walking home? When is the last time you were afraid of getting a cab? When is the last time someone touched you without your consent? When is the last time you chose not to put on your favourite shirt, just to avoid being noticed? You can run around without a shirt, but we are blamed for showing a little bit of skin? You have no idea how much damage you are doing to women. Situations like these are not normal and are still happening today.

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