One day in late May of 2009, I was walking down a country road just outside of Glencolmcille, Ireland. Two local lads on ATVs sped down the road toward me, and I moved to one side to make way. One of them slapped me on the ass, HARD, as he rode by. I could hear the two of them laughing as they sped away into the hills. The male friend I was walking with (who continues to be one of my best friends to this day), COULD NOT UNDERSTAND why I was so upset about it afterward.
This was not the first time I received unwanted attention of a sexual nature. While I was an undergrad at UNC, I received comments and catcalls while walking down Franklin Street on a fairly regular basis. This was, however, the first time that someone laid hands on me without my consent. And it made me feel helpless. It didn't matter that I was wearing the baggiest, most shapeless pair of sweatpants I owned - hardly the most come-hither article of clothing. It didn't matter that THERE WAS ANOTHER PERSON WITH ME. The guy on the ATV had seen me, and made the decision to assault me. Because he was bored, because he knew he could get away with it, because the impulse momentarily got the best of him, or because of some other reason. I don't know. All i know is that it happened, and all I could do about it afterward was scream obscenities at him, tears streaming down my face, as he rode away.
*****
I have actually been quite fortunate in my interactions with men. The incident I described above is the worst thing that has ever happened to me, as far as that goes. But I've been in situations where it could have been So Much Worse. I'll outline two of them now:
Situation 1: One night in September 2011, while I was living in Edinburgh, Scotland, two of my flatmates were having a going-away party. I immediately hit it off with a guy they had invited over for the occasion. Over the course of the evening, things gradually got hot and heavy, and in the wee hours of the morning, we made our way to my bedroom. As we stood embracing in the doorway, I had a decision to make: whether to have sex with this man or not. For a myriad of reasons I won't go into here, I chose not to. And he was absolutely fine with it. We kissed goodnight, I went to bed, and he went back to the party. He could have tried to pressure, persuade, or cajole me, but he didn't. He could have called me some unflattering names as he walked away, but he didn't (at least not in my hearing). If he really wanted to, he probably could have forced the issue. But he didn't.
What a great guy, huh?
Situation 2: One night just this past January, I was at a bar, once again in Edinburgh. I had more to drink than I should have. Having been back in America for just over a year, I was woefully out of practice at keeping up with the Scots (whose alcohol tolerance is up there with the Irish and the Russians), and there came a moment when I literally couldn't see straight anymore. The male friend I was with could have done any number of things: Slung me over his shoulder, taken me back to his place (or any convenient alleyway), and had his way with me. Surreptitiously exited the pub and left me to the mercy of the other men there, and/or to the frigid winter's night once the pub closed. Encouraged me to keep drinking until I really did black out. He did none of these things. Instead, he walked me outside, hailed me a cab back to my hostel, made sure I had enough cash to pay for it, hugged me goodnight, and texted me the next day to make sure all was well.
What a great guy, huh?
*****
Here's the thing: I have made a point of living most of my independent adult life as if sexual assault is not a thing, and refusing to take the usual precautions that are stressed to young women: Don't walk alone. Don't wear that. Don't leave your drink unattended. Carry pepper spray. Always have your keys in your hand, and know how to defend yourself with them. Et cetera. When I lived in Edinburgh, I routinely walked down Leith Walk to my flat, which was in a rather unsavory area of town, alone and in the dark. I never carried pepper spray. I didn't get my keys out until I was almost at the door. I dressed as I pleased. I wore makeup (or didn't) and styled my hair (or didn't) as I pleased. I learned the proper way to throw a punch while at UNC, but other than that I have no self-defense training, nor do I have any immediate plans to acquire any. My rationale for all of this is as follows: "I refuse to live in fear of men, because I shouldn't have to."
I refuse to alter my behavior, my manner of dress, or my routine, just because any one of them might get me assaulted or raped. This is because "not getting raped" is not my responsibility. It is the responsibility of the men I come in contact with as I go through life. It is THEIR responsibility to keep their hands to themselves, unless I have indicated that it's okay for them to touch me. It is THEIR responsibility to keep their comments to themselves, unless I have indicated that I want to hear them. And it is DEFINITELY their responsibility to keep their cocks in their pants unless I have given my enthusiastic consent otherwise, because "potential sexual partner" is NOT my default setting. And so I live my life the way I want to, simultaneously challenging the men around me to do the right thing. The vast majority of them have done beautifully so far. All those nights walking down Leith Walk on my own, I was offered not a single insult. The men I've chosen to hang out with have always, ALWAYS done the right thing, even when they might have had opportunities not to. But I don't think we should live in a world where men are lauded as "great guys" simply because they didn't press their advantage when they could have. That should be standard behavior, not exceptional behavior. And truthfully, it didn't even occur to me until recently that the behavior of the men I just described might be considered exceptional, and not par for the course.
In closing, I posted all this for mainly two reasons: One, in affirmation of the #yesallwomen hashtag currently going around various social media sites. Yes, I have been made to feel threatened and unsafe by males during my lifetime. To my knowledge, the only other person who knows about this is the friend who was with me when it happened. And five years later, I think it's time other people knew as well. And two, in affirmation of the fact that I will continue to live life as I please. Because to my mind, doing that is the biggest possible "Fuck you" to all the people out there who would seek to subdue me or "put me in my place." And also because, quite simply, living life and interacting with other human beings in all their form in splendor on my own terms, is my right. And I will not allow it to be taken from me.
