Like many people, the first thing I heard about Christchurch, NZ were "The Earthquakes."
(After living here for a month, let me assure you that that's still one of the most prevalent topics in this city. Not a day goes by where you don't hear about The Earthquakes.)
The second thing I heard about was The Rebuild. More specifically, a course taught at the university here called Rebuilding Christchurch.
Rebuilding Christchurch, or CHCH101, is not only how I found out about this school, but why I chose it.
The class meets once a week for two hours in a different site around the city. There are also optional work hours beforehand for students who are interested and don't have conflicting classes. (Or for students who are interested and have classes that are recorded and shared online. I fall into the latter category.)
This week, four of us met up with our professor three hours before the class was scheduled to meet downtown to work with an amazing organization called Gap Filler to spruce up one of their oldest installations, a public outdoor book exchange. You can check out their other awesome projects by clicking here.
We met one of the Gap Filler Trust Board members and learned a bit more about the site and what the plan for the day was. We got to work relaying a stone walkway, weeding, and painting.
As an outdoor and public space, we had a number of people not only walk by but through to trade out books from the recycled refrigerator-turned-bookshelf while we worked.
One of these visitors -- AJ, I'd come to learn his name was -- chatted with us while we worked, and even helped out a bit.
He took a particular liking to me and sat nearby, joking around while I painted.
A shot my professor snapped of us working at the first site. You can see me, far right, painting the walkway to the bookcase. AJ, center, can be seen playing with a dog, just left of the white bench.
I tried to smile though the whispers of "beautiful" and other less polite comments while I worked. I politely (albeit uncomfortably) laughed off the marriage proposal. I had little good humor to spare when he found it acceptable to touch me.
I had no patience left when he grabbed me and planted a large, wet, kiss reeking of alcohol on my face as we were leaving to meet the class at the next site.
His inappropriate comments (and touches) went by largely unnoticed by others working at the site. As we were loading into the truck to leave one of our group members invited him to join us, telling him the location of our next stop. He tried to get into our professor's truck but was thankfully stopped; despite the subtly of his advances, it was no secret that he had been drinking and wasn't as harmless as he'd first appeared.
The ride to the second site was very different than the ride to the first. I felt dirty and embarrassed. Focusing on conversation with others in the car was difficult.
We met up with the class and set to work at Gap Filler's headquarters. I shook off the strange encounter to focus on new tasks at hand.
The picture above was taken while mowing the lawn at the Gap Filler Commons,
minutes before AJ showed up again.
Intoxicated and determined, AJ was now threatening and aggressive.
After my professor and staff members from Gap Filler had to act as a physical barricade between him and me - and put in a call to the Christchurch police - AJ was finally convinced to leave.
To be honest, this is not the part of the story that disturbs me most.
All women have or know someone who has faced terrifying encounters similar to if not worse than this. (Yes, all.)
I'm not posting this to talk about a mildly scary and uncomfortable moment I faced while abroad (which could just as easily have occurred in the States). I'm posting to talk about what happened after.
I got home a few hours later still a little shaken and desperately wanting a shower, walking into my flat to find the two guys making their usual mess in the kitchen. Still processing, I started telling them about the events of the day.
After about a minute or two I was cut off, one of them telling me:
"Oh please, you probably liked the attention. I bet you loved every minute of it."
In shock, I said nothing.
"You poor baby, you have my sympathy. Is that what you want?"
I carried on making my dinner in a confused, hurt -- and admittedly pissed off -- silence. Sensing my anger, they apologized, asking for the rest of the story.
When I told them about being followed, having to be protected by my professor, and eventually the call to the cops, they changed their tune.
For clarification: If, at this point, you think this is a post complaining about either my experience or my roommates, you're missing the point.
The point is, women are often met with trivializing reactions like this to the very real, terrifying, and humiliating experiences they're subjected to every day.
Women do not love unwanted attention. (They get it everyday. It's not flattering.)
Women do not love "compliments" whispered in their ears by strangers.
Women do not love being called "bitch" for standing up for themselves.
Women do not love the humiliation of being grabbed in front of colleagues or classmates.
Women do not ask for this.
Women do not enjoy this.
Women do not want this.
I, frankly, cannot believe we're still trying to convince the world of that.
The next time you hear a story like mine (or worse), do not for a second let yourself wonder if it was actually wanted or warranted. If it was "asked for." God forbid you wonder what they were wearing.
(If you thought any of these things while reading this blog post, you have my permission to knock your head against your desk as hard as you can.)
Any time you do find yourself wondering any of these things, the women in your life ask you to please, please, PLEASE take a good hard look at the situation and reevaluate your assumptions.
If you are asking, "Why did this happen?" and your answer had anything to do with the victim -- what they were wearing/drinking/doing/thinking -- knock your head against the desk and try again.
Minimizing, trivializing, or laughing at a story like this is one of the easiest ways we fail women. The best thing you can do, usually, is to listen.
If you take nothing else away from this, please consider the extremely tricky and uncomfortable position of being in a situation like this. Try to put yourselves in the shoes of victims and survivors of mild interactions like mine, as well as victims and survivors of worse.*
In this case, you can try to imagine being a small female in a foreign country, trying to do a few hours of community service. You can try to imagine navigating the awkward line between being polite and rude. Imagine trying to recognize the line between appropriate and inappropriate so you don't get too defensive too soon. Try to imagine the humiliation that this is all happening in front of not only classmates, but figures of authority who you hardly know.
And then imagine people telling you that you're overreacting. Talking to you in baby voices. Telling you that the honest, raw emotions you're feeling are wrong.
*The fact that I refer to this experience as "mild" is pretty telling, don't you think? The sad truth is that I've experienced worse, and I know that most women have as well. This is a mild case of what women face everyday.
It's too common that we dismiss the experiences, emotions, and fears of the women that we should be listening to. (Not just men; women have been taught this distrust too.)
So -- for the women in your life -- please. Listen.
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If you're interested in reading more about rape culture (yes, rape culture -- although not rape, these occurrences are inextricably tied), check out these links:
Because it goes unnoticed until it's pointed out.
Because, as the article says, "a feminism that only serves white women is a failed feminism."
Because we owe it to humans everywhere. (Seriously. This is the best short article I've seen on the topic. Read this.)
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Now it's your turn. What do you think? Have you had similar experiences? Agree with what I have to say? Disagree? The simplest way you can take a stand is leave a comment, private message me, or have a conversation with a friend or neighbor about the topics in this post.
I share these experiences to start conversations, so start talking!
Hey Lena, by far i think this has been your hardest hitting post at least for me. As a man i wont be apologizing for the act of another fellow man, not because I think I or any other man is above that but because doing so will be showing pity towards women and i don't believe that is what women like yourself want or need. i think as a society we downplay the seriousness of sexual harassment specially toward women, the issue lies in our inability to have an adult conversation about the topic and to recognize that it is not a woman's fault nor desire to get that type of treatment.
ReplyDeleteI think what happened to you and what happens to women and men all around the world on a daily basis is why our generation needs to step up and say "no more" " we will no longer remain silent and turn a blind eye to this kind of treatment" we need to rise above the fear of taking about the subject and embrace those who have been abuse and mistreated, let them know that they will not be ridiculed and shamed that instead we will lend them our understanding ears and helping hands.
from my own life experience i can tell you that there are places in the world where the idea of sexual harassment is not believed. That if such a thing were to happen to a female, it was her fault for provoking the man or being frivolous. this topic is very close to my heart because of the women in my life and how much i value them, as a man of principles i am afraid to think of what my reaction would be if someone close to me would go through what you went through. I'm glad that in the end you are able to draw from this experience and bring light to this issue and raise awareness.