A Kick in the Butt...From A Gross Old Man

*WARNING: This post has some explicit language. Working in the kitchen has given me a real potty-mouth at times. This topic has made me feeling really emotionally charged, and it shows in my writing. If you don’t mind the occasional swearing, read on. Otherwise, you may want to skip this one!*

I’ve been toying with the idea of starting a blog for over a year now, but never managed to pull the trigger. I was scared of privacy issues, of causing controversy, of becoming a target to internet bullying, of exposing too much about myself, and essentially, of speaking out. Who am I to have a voice given I’m not expert? Who am I to publicly express my opinions when most of them are half-baked and minimally researched? What if I offend people? What if I say something that hurts my credibility or dependability? But just now, while doing laundry and ruminating — something I do often — I decided “Fuck it. It’s time to have a voice.” So here I go!

While I’m feeling proactive and productive today, so in essence, feeling high on life (who doesn’t like getting things done??), I’m also riled up. Riled up by something that happened to me two nights ago.

The Bay Area is experiencing a crazy heat wave. We hit 97 degrees the other day, and 94 degrees yesterday. WUH?!?! (Emoji here would be great. Anyone know how to use emojis in blogs?) I actually love it when it gets hot. Something about the heat brings people outside when it’s cooler at night, and it brings out a perfect combination of playfulness and laziness. I LOVE IT.

So I did what Veronica would naturally do — I went out for a walk. It was around sunset. The evening air was perfectly comfortable, and people-watching opportunity was ample. Families were out — parents with their kids on bikes, young couples going for an evening jog, one couple rollerblading, kids with their puppy and adult chaperones in the small park, older couples out for a stroll, neighbors in an apartment complex blasting Daddy Yankee’s “Con Calma” while enjoying an impromptu pool party. I was lapping it up. My soul was being fed and it needed more of it.

Especially, since I was going through a minor emotional rough patch. It wasn’t full blast, but enough to make me somewhat glum and pensive. Watching all the families, I couldn’t help but feel envy and loneliness. But at the same time, I was thinking that I needed to take some time to take care of myself, to give myself the time, attention, and the patience that I deserve.

On my way back I decided to sit on a bench and gaze into the now dark sky. Doing so makes me feel small, yet cared for. Like I’m being cradled in this big world. I’m not deeply religious, but I do think He’s up there looking down on me. He’s got a plan for me. I just need to look to Him for guidance, especially when I’m feeling lost in my sea of thoughts and emotions.

While thinking some things out, an elderly, wise-looking man walked by. We exchanged brief, friendly greetings and he walked on. A few minutes later, I got up and started walking home. My pace was faster than this man’s so I soon caught up. He said hi again and this time, asked how I was. We struck up a seemingly innocuous conversation. He asked where I was from. I asked him the same. I asked how long he’s been in the States. He said since 1982. I exclaimed that that was before I was born! Which naturally led him to ask what year I was born. I asked if he was retired. He said yes, but that he’d been a taxi driver for 36 years and successfully raised three children by working 7 days a week. People who bootstrap their way through America earn major respect in my book. I was delighted to have struck up a conversation with this man. And honestly, I was craving some human interaction after a mostly solo day.

We reached the point where I would break off, but he asked that I accompany him for another block. I happily obliged. This is when the conversation took an odd turn. He asked if I had a boyfriend. I answered honestly though with uncertainty. Then he asked if I was interested in meeting a young Indian man who was rich. He offered to make an introduction. I couldn’t help but chuckle inside, stereotyping him as the typical, meddling old man. I graciously declined, still seeing him as a friendly, endearing old man.

But he didn’t stop there. He asked if I liked older men. I thought I’d misheard him and asked him to repeat the question. He did. I asked him in what sense, wanting so badly that he was asking something other than what I was thinking. Unfortunately, he shattered my image and respect for him in the next two words — “for sex.” I was shocked, and honestly, didn’t know how to react.

I didn’t come to my senses quickly enough, perhaps. I kept on walking in silence as he imprudently continued. “It’ll be easy. Since I am old it will only take 2 or 3 minutes,” he continued. “Or do you prefer young men only? I will pay you. I haven’t had sex with my wife in a long time because our family is always home.” At this point we were almost at the end of the block. Maybe I don’t have the right survival instincts or something, but I didn’t think to run away from him. I continued the remainder of the block and just said, “No no no. I’m not interested. I don’t do that.”

At the end of the block he insisted on a hand-shake. I actually gave it to him. He said, only walking and talking is good too. I just said bye. I don’t think the gravity of his proposition had sunken in. I was mostly aghast that that just happened. And disgusted. I never felt unsafe. Just disgusted. Then again, maybe I lack safety instincts.

I shared the incident with my mom the next evening. I didn’t think much of sharing it with her. Just that I wanted to share my shock that men feel like they can do that. My mom, though, reacted stronger than I thought she would, and was actually accusatory. She called me irresponsible for going out at night by myself. She asked what I was thinking to interact with a stranger in that way, and that she thought I already knew not to talk to strangers. Honestly, I felt like a 5 year old learning the “don’t talk to strangers” lesson again. For some reason, I thought that rule expired after a certain age — at least by my ripe adult age of 30. I guess not…

After my mom’s comments I didn’t dare share that I was wearing a summer dress (it was hot!). Plus, that should be irrelevant. I knew where she was coming from — her admonishment came from a place of protection, of care, of worry, of love. Essentially, any lessons to make me avoid any possibility of getting myself into such a situation again. Plus, she comes from a generation where women were given the onus of preventing those situations. I said I would be more careful. But being my rebellious self, I internally knew I would continue to walk outside by myself around sunset if I knew there were people around, that I would continue to chat up strangers when my heart delights. But I recognize I need to be more wary, unfortunately. My mom’s comments didn’t make me mad at the time.

It wasn’t until this morning, the next morning, that my mom’s comments started to incite anger. In fact, I got really mad. Something hit me. I thought, “Why do I have to change MY behavior? Why do I have to limit when I can go out for a walk? Why do I have to close the door on opportunities for chance encounters? Why is it that because of this one perverted, ignorant man that I need to limit my life?” I was so pissed off.

Pissed off because you know what? This wasn’t the first time I’ve been violated in this way, and frankly, I’m sick of it. There have been too many times where I was made to doubt my behavior because of a stupid sexual predator. Each time I was made to wonder if I need to curtail my sense of wonderment and my faith in fellow humans to treat me with dignity and respect. I wonder if I need to be more suspicious of people. If I need to curb my friendliness, because those ignorant bastards think my friendliness is an invitation to come onto me.

Every time I am shocked. How is it that these men get in their head that it’s OK to violate my space and sense of security? What made my host father in Spain think he could put his hand under my butt when reaching over me to pick up the phone? How about the man in China who thought he could grab my head and kiss me after he invited himself to join my day of tourist activities? The man in SF who called me a bitch because I didn’t respond to his creepy hello as he was stopped at a stop light? The coworker who decided to secretly video me at work and show it to other male coworkers? This man asking me for sex? What are they all thinking?? Where and how did we go so wrong as a society to make men feel like they can do this??? And where and how did we decide the remedy was to tell women to watch their own actions???? WHY???????

Each one of these experiences made me shocked, indignant, sad, confused, self-doubting. A few tears are inevitably shed. But, when the clouds clear, I come to a tremendous clarity. A “fuck it” clarity. Sure, I’ll be more “careful,” whatever that means. But I’ve decided the best way to combat this is to be myself. I don’t need to change. They do. I need to do what my heart delights and continue to approach the world with a childlike wonder. I need to continue to smile and interact with whomever I’m comfortable interacting with. To keep the door open to friendly conversations with strangers if I want. I need to say, “screw you idiots.” You are not going to dampen my spirit nor my belief that this world is filled with good people who do know how to treat others with respect. And as for those who do not know how, I am going to learn the language and tools I need to safely yet firmly let them know what they are doing is not OK. That they are in the wrong, not me. I am going to use my voice, because I am learning that it can have tremendous power. And like a friend suggested, some self defense skills wouldn’t hurt either. ;) Any suggestions?

That said, my indignation has led me to this blog post today. My very first blog post ever. The silver lining in this otherwise shitty experience. So thank you, old perverted man — you have lit a fire in me. You have pushed me to the point where I don’t want to remain silent nor complacent anymore, especially not on this topic. For the first time, I feel strongly enough that I want to spread my voice beyond my inner circle.

I want to thank the supports in my life who have given me the education, the strength, and the confidence to embark on this. No one had a direct impact on my decision to start this blog, but their encouragement in general have helped me arrive to this point today.

I hope this blog will help me find and grow my voice. The thoughts are there, I just need an avenue to articulate and refine them. What is expressed her are solely my ruminations. Most ramblings will not be well-researched, perhaps not even factual (though I will try my best to avoid falsities). My vision is to have this blog become a forum. I want to first and foremost push myself out of my comfort zone. To use my voice. To put my thoughts out to a general audience to begin discussions and to give myself a learning opportunity to hear what others have to share. I hope that you can also gain something from reading my blog. Please please please comment on anything that triggers a reaction. I’m a pupil of this world and what it has to offer. These negative experiences are my teachers, and I hope you will be as well. :)