Monday, April 21, 2008

Women! Read, react, and let's fuckin' change the world!

Not only did the creep who did this remind me of why I am a feminist, but the ensuing drama to report him bolstered my convictions.
I was on the 147 northbound bus today coming home from class. It runs express, making no stops from Michigan and Delaware to Foster and Marine Dr. all the way up Lake Shore. At Delaware, this guy got on and sat next to me, even though there were a lot of empty seats where he could have sat by himself. After he sat, he started moving around, and I was reading, just thinking he was trying to get settled. Then I notice his hand on the seat near my thigh, and that he has started rubbing the side of my leg. He was so slick and obviously so experienced at this,at first I really thought he might be adjusting, trying to get comfortable, etc. But then I realized it and I just had these flashes in my brain of things I've read on feminist blogs, namely HollaBack, and in my books and articles, in my classes, which deals directly with this. But I was frozen. I'm sure if someone else told me this happened to them, I would say, Why didn't you slap him? Why didn't you scream really loud to the bus driver? But when it actually happened, I didn't know what to do. I was frozen and silenced just like he wanted. I told him to stop, which he did for a second, and then started again. I leaned further into the bus wall, but he did too. A few moments before the bus was coming to the next stop, he quit and got up to walk to the back of the bus to exit. I got my phone out, ready to take a picture to show the bus driver, police, and to post at HollaBack. But I couldn't see him and when he got off he wasn't in a position for me to get a shot. I exited the bus, not knowing what to do. Walking to my building, I called 311. I was on hold for 10 minutes, then finally transferred to another answering service, where I had to know and enter my police district number. I had no idea, so had to waste another 5 minutes listening to the options. When mine finally came up, and I was transferred, it said the number had been disconnected and the line went dead. I got online and googled the Chicago Police, found my precinct, and called them directly. I told the man, "I was sexually harassed on a CTA bus today. I don't know how to report it." He took my info, not the info of the fucking guy, and said he would send a car over to me right away. I waited for 20 minutes and when no one came, I called 311 again, only to be put on hold. After 10 minutes or so, I asked them to transfer me directly to an officer. I got a woman, which made me so happy, and she had me tell her all of the details. I couldn't remember what shoes he was wearing, I'm a bad judge of weight and age, and I felt like shit saying he was "Hispanic" because I felt like a scared little white girl, telling on the man of color. I felt like I was betraying my anti-race bias that I always yell at other people about. I was enraged that now I need to start noticing the color of peoples shoes, estimating their weight, and be suspect of anyone who sits next to me on the bus or train.
The officer took all of the info, was very professional, and she was making me feel a lot better.But, then she took my address and told me my police report number. Then she said, "You'll receive a victim's report in a couple of days."
I fucking hate that word.
I started crying and she said that if I see him again to call 911 right away with my report number, or if I'm on the bus, to tell the driver immediately.
So now I'm a victim who has to carry around my police report number.
It's been over an hour and still no officer has shown up, as was promised to me. And I know that I wasn't raped. I GET THAT. But I don't think men, or women who have somehow escaped the experience, understand how infantilizing, demoralizing, depressing, and scary this is.
I've had men make comments on the street, yelled from an open window or whatever, or male coworkers who have said that one thing that went just a little too far. But those situations have a certain degree of distance. They are words and they were never serious words. Those men never looked me in the face and they were yelling at every person they thought might be female, drunk after a Cubs game. I'm not saying that's right, and I know that might be completely violating to some women, but that has not been my experience.
This man was in my personal space, touching my body, trapping me in a bus seat so I could not move or get up. That is violating.
It is also violating that it took over an hour to report, when this asshole is long gone, maybe on another bus with another woman.
It's violating because it made me realize that for all of my strong talk and the blogs and article and books I read, the classes I have taken, the papers I have written, and the activism work I have done concerning this, I still fell "victim." And I guess I"m just wondering what the hell I'm gonna do about it, what all women are going to do about it, what we're all gonna do about it, and what the police are going to do about it. Because none of what happened today was okay. It wasn't okay for this guy to do what he did, and it also wasn't okay for me to devote my entire afternoon to reporting it.
I'm at a loss for words now, shaking, and just want to fall onto the couch with the dog and cry a little. But I first wanted to put this out there, articulate it, because even though I feel sick, violated, and livid, I will not feel ashamed. I didn't do anything wrong and if my feminist activism hasn't made me brave enough yet to slap a jerk at the beginning, it HAS taught me to be brave enough to not feel shame in, essentially, being a female.

4 comments:

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX said...

I felt really compelled to respond to this post. I agree 100% that this guy was a jerk, and you were violated. I'm not blasting you at all for your views, but doing so much investigative work by taking classes and searching out information on the internet about why men are creepy and pigs may make you hypersensitive to men and their actions by analyzing each thing they do as potentially sexist. Having a passion for a well-worthy cause is fantastic, but don't forget that there are some men you can trust.

marmar said...

LOL. I don't spend any time really researching creepers... but I work in rape prevention and I study gender and sexuality. Which is quite different. But thanks for your thoughts.

Lindsay Q said...

I relate to your post slightly, because I have had personal experience where the police have done little and/or nothing about the reporting of a sex crime. It's horrible how little they do, because it allows so many men to get away it.

My little sister was molested by our next door neighbor when she was 4-years-old, and THAT man DID go to jail. I believe he got out a year or so later, which is bullshit, but at least the police took action. However, just a few months ago, that same sister was molested again by her best friend's father. He was driving her home (they live in the same neighborhood), and he kept circling the block to continue touching her inappropriately. This time, she was older (16), and she knew what to do. She screamed and kicked and did everything she could to get out of the car, and he finally let her out near her house. She immediately told our mom, who immediately called the police. The police showed up HOURS later, took a report, and left saying that Sex Crimes would be in contact with them sometime that week.

A few days later, the Sex Crimes department called my sister in, and all they did was ask her the same questions as the police. And then, they did nothing. NOTHING. The man responsible REFUSED to talk to the police, and for some reason, they could not force him. So, he got away with it; to the police, it is her word against his, and they side with him. The police dropped the case, and my sister has been a wreck ever since. She lost her best friends, who claim that she was lying to get their dad in trouble, and she lost her dignity; no one in her school believes her.

This is what led me to my decision just two months ago when I was sexually assaulted by SOMEONE YOU KNOW. I was staying the night with a group of friends I completely trusted, and I went to sleep drunk. When I woke up, this guy was SOBER and openly violating my body. Unfortunately, I couldn't scream, because I had laryngitis. All I could do was whisper my protests, and he ignored me. When I tried to crawl away, he pulled me back and shushed me. This went on for a remainder of the night, and when I woke up that morning, I was stunned. My first instinct was to call the police, but I called my mom instead. I was in Lafayette, where she lived, and she sent out my big sister to come pick me up. We talked about my options, but we ultimately decided not to call the police. Why would the police give a damn if an 18-year-old drunk girl was sexually assaulted by a 20-year-old, if they didn't give a shit that a 16-year-old girl was molested by a 46-year-old MAN? They most certainly would have dismissed it as a form of drunken misjudgement on my part. Also, I didn't think that taking this guy to court would do any good at all. He was already a loser with no future, and he wasn't worth the money it would take to press charges. I ended up sending him an e-mail letting him know that he could consider himself in the same category as the man who molested my 4-year-old sister all those years ago. I let him know that he was a disgusting pig, and he deserved to live with that knowledge.

I was probably too easy on this guy. Maybe I should have called the police and at least TRIED to make a fuss, but I think that your point about the police and sex crimes is right. Maybe it just happens so frequently that they can't follow up on every case...but they should. I'd really like to live in a world where you're not afraid to call the police when you're a VICTIM; I'd like to finally see some justice.

But that's probably asking too much.

Lindsay Q said...

While I agree with you that situations of sexual assault sucks, I try not to think about it too negatively. I'm actually somewhat grateful that it happened to me rather than someone else, because I knew how to handle it. It upset me, but it did not emotionally devastate me. It actually made me stronger as a person; countless other women DO suffer tremendously, and I think that that is where the tragedy lies.

I can talk with you more via Facebook message.