The Adjusted Normal, 21. Change the Chip
Yesterday something happened I'm not exactly proud of.
I was walking to my car from a supermarket when I saw a man sitting on a bench. He must have been anywhere from 45 to 55 years old, tall, angular, wearing sunglasses and a long-sleeve white cotton shirt with pale blue elbow patches. He had a shopping bag from Mercadona supermarket sitting beside him. He took his phone and trained it on a girl sitting on another bench on the other side of the street. He took her picture and quickly lowered his phone, checking to see if she had seen him. She was talking on her own phone and was just hanging up.
I slowed down and stared at him, but he didn't see me. Should I say something or should I keep quiet? I walked a few more steps, stopped, and looked back, staring at him. He was looking at his phone and sneaking peeks across the street. He continued oblivious to my observation of him. I took my bag to the car.
I left it in the trunk and took out another shopping bag to head for a different supermarket. (I go to various on my shopping day.) I wasn't feeling well about having kept quiet, so, as I walked back on the other side of the street, I stopped to tell the girl about the pervert. I explained to her he had taken a picture of her, and she shrugged, laughed, and smiled, "Thanks for warning me." I left.
When I returned to my car, the man had left, but she was still there, and a young man had joined her. She had probably called him and was sitting there to wait for him. I went to my car and left, but I was thinking I had dealt with the situation the wrong way.
I had warned the girl, the victim, that she was being a victim. What I should have done was call out the man, and let him know his actions were not acceptable. I kept quiet out of fear, because as I was debating with myself about addressing him or not, through my head passed images of him doing something to my car parked down the street, threatening me, following me home, or seeing me on another day and "doing" something to me. I, too, was a victim of gender violence, just as the girl. Not actual physical violence, but the violence of fear, of feeling threatened simply because we are women.
Thinking coldly about what the man would have done, I realize that he would simply have brushed me off, saying I was mistaken, or that I should mind my own business. A man who surreptitiously takes a picture of a young woman will most likely slink away when confronted, only raising his voice, not his hand. Still, histories of past violence instill fear of unknown variables, that are difficult to logically consider in the spur of the moment.
It was in that same town that the killer of Diana Quer was stopped from kidnapping and probably killing another young woman. If she hadn't stood her ground and instead given him her cell phone when he asked for it, she would probably have disappeared, only to be found in similar circumstances as Diana. She wouldn't let herself be a victim, and she had the luck that two young men heard her cries for help. She fought back. I should have called out that man.
Women have been trained to be victims. They have been trained to avoid confrontation, to avoid fighting for their well-being. Only now are they beginning to fight back and defend themselves. When all women call out the perverts, the abusers, the men who consider themselves lord and master, then they will stop being victims. I know that there are women who will disagree with me, arguing that no woman is a victim, because being a victim implies that she did something wrong that led to her victimhood. But I am talking more about being the victims of our upbringing, prisoners of it, if you will. We have done nothing wrong, and we have to change society by training the coming generations.
I just hope that guy is stopped in his tracks before his voyeurism gets out of hand.
Life continues.
I was walking to my car from a supermarket when I saw a man sitting on a bench. He must have been anywhere from 45 to 55 years old, tall, angular, wearing sunglasses and a long-sleeve white cotton shirt with pale blue elbow patches. He had a shopping bag from Mercadona supermarket sitting beside him. He took his phone and trained it on a girl sitting on another bench on the other side of the street. He took her picture and quickly lowered his phone, checking to see if she had seen him. She was talking on her own phone and was just hanging up.
I slowed down and stared at him, but he didn't see me. Should I say something or should I keep quiet? I walked a few more steps, stopped, and looked back, staring at him. He was looking at his phone and sneaking peeks across the street. He continued oblivious to my observation of him. I took my bag to the car.
I left it in the trunk and took out another shopping bag to head for a different supermarket. (I go to various on my shopping day.) I wasn't feeling well about having kept quiet, so, as I walked back on the other side of the street, I stopped to tell the girl about the pervert. I explained to her he had taken a picture of her, and she shrugged, laughed, and smiled, "Thanks for warning me." I left.
When I returned to my car, the man had left, but she was still there, and a young man had joined her. She had probably called him and was sitting there to wait for him. I went to my car and left, but I was thinking I had dealt with the situation the wrong way.
I had warned the girl, the victim, that she was being a victim. What I should have done was call out the man, and let him know his actions were not acceptable. I kept quiet out of fear, because as I was debating with myself about addressing him or not, through my head passed images of him doing something to my car parked down the street, threatening me, following me home, or seeing me on another day and "doing" something to me. I, too, was a victim of gender violence, just as the girl. Not actual physical violence, but the violence of fear, of feeling threatened simply because we are women.
Thinking coldly about what the man would have done, I realize that he would simply have brushed me off, saying I was mistaken, or that I should mind my own business. A man who surreptitiously takes a picture of a young woman will most likely slink away when confronted, only raising his voice, not his hand. Still, histories of past violence instill fear of unknown variables, that are difficult to logically consider in the spur of the moment.
It was in that same town that the killer of Diana Quer was stopped from kidnapping and probably killing another young woman. If she hadn't stood her ground and instead given him her cell phone when he asked for it, she would probably have disappeared, only to be found in similar circumstances as Diana. She wouldn't let herself be a victim, and she had the luck that two young men heard her cries for help. She fought back. I should have called out that man.
Women have been trained to be victims. They have been trained to avoid confrontation, to avoid fighting for their well-being. Only now are they beginning to fight back and defend themselves. When all women call out the perverts, the abusers, the men who consider themselves lord and master, then they will stop being victims. I know that there are women who will disagree with me, arguing that no woman is a victim, because being a victim implies that she did something wrong that led to her victimhood. But I am talking more about being the victims of our upbringing, prisoners of it, if you will. We have done nothing wrong, and we have to change society by training the coming generations.
I just hope that guy is stopped in his tracks before his voyeurism gets out of hand.
Life continues.
I think you did as much as you could. You were on your own and don’t know if the man had a history of violence. You told the girl and she must have phoned for someone to come or she could have phoned the police or asked you to confront him with her. You didn’t do nothing you told her. I don’t think I would have approached him either. And try as we might not to be victims ,men are stronger than most of us.
ReplyDeleteTrue, I did tell the girl. Yet, it was a bright afternoon and there were people nearby, so I feel I should have called him out. And, yes, a man's strength is more than ours, and is used to keep us in fear. I only wish the coming generations will change, but it will take much longer.
DeleteÉ difícil porque nos pilla de improviso. A próxima vez tés que dicirllo á chica así sodes dúas contra un.
ReplyDeleteTamén poderías chamar ao 012 para avisar á policía para que controlase a situación.
Díxenllo á chica, pero sigo pensando que debín haber feito mais. Non parecía perigoso, pero o medo interiorizado non deixa pensar ben.
Delete