the pain men cause

I want to start this with, "the last month has been so busy," or, "time slipped away from me," or some other variation of an excuse for my lack of writing. Alas, I won't lie.

I selected "New Post" multiple times. I had ideas written on sticky notes and index cards. I spoke a few sentences to my phone while driving; reading the incorrect phrases or words made me laugh later. A few instances even led to sentences or paragraphs typed into a draft. I never posted though. I always thought of a reason to not.

Four weeks have passed.

I want to say that nothing has happened. That I worked, slept, worked, slept, donated plasma, repeat. That's how it feels some days. I'm sure many adults relate to the sentiment. But is it true? No. Multiple people could share various stories about the last month of my life. Friends, family members, coworkers, my hairstylist, even strangers who simply crossed my path. I know I could, too.

I could share about visiting home (Coe) for the first time since graduating. I could detail the experiences with my roommates in that time. I could spell out just how awful the side effects of my new birth control is. I could recount all the times that I've cried, both happy and sad tears.

But I won't today.

Instead I will focus on what I know will lead to hateful comments and painful backlash because in 2018, people still feel the need to diminish someone's personal experiences.

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A few weeks back, I shared a post on Facebook about male privilege. Someone commented and included that (paraphrased), "It might still be a man's world, but it's not a boy's world anymore." When I replied to that comment--and the following comments--with all of my patience, I chose to ignore that statement. I've learned to choose my battles, and I didn't want to fight that one then. I knew that no amount of research or experiences or truth of any form would lead to even a glimmer of hope for a change in thought. I wouldn't waste my time.

I've wasted so much time explaining myself to men. The following won't offer any explanations or space for degradation. It will only serve as a reminder that men--particularly straight white men who don't have the slightest idea about what lacking privilege means--need to change. Typically this is the place that I (and most others) would link to research or other forms of scholarly work that "prove" the point. I refuse to this time. I don't owe that effort to anyone. Those who know the facts know them from research and, likely, experience. Those who don't haven't paid attention.

The following are my own experiences.

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On February 1, 2018, a man harassed me--waited outside my car for me to get out, yelled at me as I avoided him, and followed me as I ran for my building. Locked inside, I shut down. I didn't have the energy to talk about it, or anything else. The next day, another man ended a relationship with me via text message (after blocking all of my social media accounts) because my not talking to him about that experience led to him thinking that I had cheated. Yes, you read that all correctly. I sat in my 8 AM counseling psychology class while replying, "If you think that, it says more about you than me. Have a nice life." He quickly responded in a typical gaslighting fashion: "reminding" me that he had always treated me right, been there when I needed him, respected me always, and "would have kicked that guy's ass." The message still ended with a statement about how I can't be trusted. I didn't reply. He proceeded to ask for replies, specifically "an explanation" that I "owed" him for three days.

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This past Thursday, a man made me uncomfortable at work. I internally reminded myself to just do my job. I either ignored or redirected his comments. When he was moments away from leaving, and I was moments away from sighing in relief, he smirked and flatly stated, "It's a good thing you're not married yet. I looked at your hand." I stared at him in silence. He continued, "Do you want to be married?"

I said, "No. Have a nice day," as I turned and walked away. He laughed.

I left work soon after. I stopped at a Walmart to grab Subway before donating plasma. As I walked from my car to the entrance, I attempted to pass a man. He grabbed my arm and stated, "You should at least smile." I smiled, he let go, and I walked through the main entrance. I didn't stop walking until I found the bathrooms in the back of the store. I cried with a stranger then, because a vile man had upset her too.

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Two Wednesdays ago, I went to the Mexican restaurant diagonal from my apartment complex. I frequent the place for the margarita specials and the excellent salsa. I always go alone, for time to myself. A man bought everyone's drinks. I turned, thanked him, and turned back to my food. Soon after, he sat next to me. He asked me personal questions, took photos of me without my permission, and begged me to travel the world with him "free of any costs." I finished my drinks too quickly just so I could leave, but only after I hid in the bathroom for long enough to know that he would be gone. I couldn't risk him knowing where I live.

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During my first two months of college, the guys who lived directly across from me stole my space. They would follow me to the bathroom when I went to shower. They would walk into my room if the door was unlocked or cracked open, and I was alone. They would yell at me in the dark when I walked back from studying. The adult I told said she couldn't do anything if I didn't know their names--as if me telling her where they lived and that they played football didn't reveal their identities. It was a combination of their indecency and disrespect and problems with my first roommate that led to me moving, yet another time in my life without any control.

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Weeks ago, I walked back to my apartment from downtown after trivia night with friends. I was catcalled seven times. Many people made fun of me for not appreciating the advances and taking them as compliments. On the way to trivia that night, a man stopped me with his cane in a crosswalk to tell me that the night wasn't nearly as beautiful as I am. 

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A couple weeks ago I went to work with bad allergies. My eyes were swollen. A man asked if I was awake enough to be working. I explained. He immediately apologized, offering some tea that he had. I told a friend, noting that the man's kindness was so strong.

They reminded me that the man's reaction was something I should consider as basic human kindness. 

I sat back in my chair, sad that such a small thing made a man seem so good.

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I wake up every morning and expect these things to happen. These stories aren't even the worst.