By Friday, I felt so exhausted and couldn’t wait to get home after work, pour myself some wine, and just be. I loved my plans to have no plans. I needed the freedom to fall asleep if my eyes started closing. I was not up for dealing with one more thing.
I work in a program housed on a college campus. So I pretty
much spend the day in an environment largely free of sexual harassment. I can
actually go through a day there without thinking about my gender except for
which bathroom I use. Time like that is good for the soul.
I was about two blocks from home and the small two-way street
was further narrowed by some construction going on. Additionally, a car was
double-parked, cars behind were honking, and I was expecting one to come
shooting into the wrong-way lane to get out of there.
I stepped as far back as possible and was against the
construction blockades, giving the cars all the room possible. Another
pedestrian was near, and, without paying attention to the traffic, he offered for
me to pass him by. My eyes opened wide at the car behind him that did shoot out
into the wrong-way lane, and I shook my head no. His attention was still on me and not the traffic. Then he said
something about my eyes, and I actually felt a real sense of disappointment as
I felt my status go from person to something decorative. I passed him by, and he made more attempts to
get my attention in that way. He originally had my attention when I tried to
alert him to the traffic, but he wanted a different kind of attention. He
pursued, “God bless them” (referring to my eyes), and “Did you hear me? Did you
hear me?” He originally was going in the direction I was coming from, but now
his voice sounded like he decided to follow me.
It is my neighborhood, I work two jobs to survive, I am tired,
and I don’t want to feel intimidated on my way home from work. In a very real
tone of voice, and without turning around, I said, “Please don’t talk to me
like you know me.” To my great surprise, he said, “I’m sorry.” I nodded and, to
keep the peace, said, “Thank you.” He couldn’t leave it like that.
“I’d like to know
you.”
“Thank you.”
Maybe he heard my age in my voice and realized I’m older than
he may have originally thought. Maybe he heard my sick and tiredness of it all
– of being objectified, infantilized, belittled, reduced. Maybe I really have
guardian angels and am cloaked with a special kind of protection. Whatever it
was, it felt empowering to have words, to be able to just express what I had to
say without yelling or using rude language, and for it to be respected (as much
as was possible for him).
Yes we must take joy in small victories!
I hear you Sista! Glad you found your voice and sent the mutt(my apologies to my furry friends) along his way.
Here's a quote I love and want to share with you:
" I stopped explaining myself, when I realized people only understand from their level of perception".
true.
yes guardian angels are with us.