I Dream of a World, Follow-up

I started this over in a comment thread of someone else's post, and it grew and grew so I decided to post here. Last night I was just too freaked and angry to write much more than I did.

So last night I was a good kid and did my dishes and cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. Then I felt kind of restless and crappy, so I went out for a walk up to the Elvis shrine and back. They are decked out in summer fun islander garb, which is appropriate. I think my favorite is the bunny ears for Easter though. Or maybe Christmas Santa hats:


I met the most awesome Siamese kitty, which made me happy too.

And then I was almost home, walking by Grant Elementary and I heard a car pull up and drive slowly behind me. So I turned around, car kept driving, I kept walking. Sure enough this underwear shit-streak leans toward the passenger side and makes a disgusting comment about my legs and the implied quality of my vagina, and how was I doing tonight, baby? and why didn't I not walk myself on over to him and not be rude 'cuz he just thought I was sexy was all...

So I kept walking and looking straight ahead like he wasn't even there, even though I had already started scanning for an escape route without even thinking about it like I always do, even though my blood was pounding in my ears and my hear was hammering in my chest, even as I was wondering if THIS would be the time I was physically and not just verbally as usual reminded that my body was ultimately not my own. But apparently my unwillingness to play along exhausted his patience and he mumbled something and sped off, but then stopped at the next block and waited. And then drove slowly on a bit, and then stopped and waited. I slowed down too, waiting to see what he would do. He finally turned down 26th and sped off, so as I got to 25th I turned and started heading south.

And he came up behind me AGAIN, slowed down and lurked, but then took off again without saying anything. At this point I just ran home as fast as I could, figuring I would make sure no one was watching before I darted into the Maze to lock myself up in my apartment. Which no one was, so I did. But it freaked my the fuck out, even though it's not the first time something like that has happened to me and I know it won't be the last. Even though I've found myself in even scarier encounters. Even though I know I will still go out and live my life. And it pissed me off too, because if I were to relate this anecdote, even if people were polite enough not to come right out and ask me what I was wearing, why was I out taking a walk alone in my bourgeois neighborhood after dark etc. but they sure would be thinking it. Which is a very human thing to do, on the one hand--if we know that people are to blame for their own misfortunes, then we can avoid similar fates and thus maintain the illusion of control. On the other hand, it's absolutely infuriating, because I was not the one in the wrong, he was. Where is the outrage that some people feel totally free to be violent misogynist assholes instead of the resignation that boys will be boys or wev and there's nothing to be done, why bother.

I don't know how to get across what it feels like that it is so normative to have this awareness everywhere you go, with everyone you are with that it hardly even registers half the time. Or how it feels to know that your choices of where you can go (in the larger sense of life as well as where you feel like spending your evening) and when, and with whom are limited because of that, and how inherently fucked up that is. Or what it feels like to be grabbed by the ass or the breasts or the hair, to be masturbated to on the bus, to be threatened with rape, torture, and death for daring to speak to power instead of shutting up and putting out bitch like what you were put on this earth to do, and then to be told you are a feminazi, making a big deal out of nothing, that you are being too sensitive and just need to develop a thicker skin and be tough like teh menz instead of whining like a little pussy girl, you shouldn't have worn that skirt/heels/modest kindergarten teacher attire, what were you thinking going out without a man to protect you 'cuz everyone knows that a woman without a man is fair game for poaching and I mean that in every sense of the phrase.

Breathe. Blink. Swallow.

I know things could have been much, much worse and there but for the grace of God go I, but I'm so tired of this shit I could scream and cry buckets. Except sometimes I'm afraid if I ever started I may never stop.