That One Time I Didn’t Get Raped and/or Shot

 

A horrible, tragic murder happened pretty recently, that is an unfortunate perfect example of why I’m a feminist occurred. Janese Talton-Jackson, was murdered because she said no. This should infuriate and sadden everyone, because our society sets up tragedies like this every day. This hit particularly close to home, because I am sometimes a dumbass. No, you know what? I take that back, I just like to do my own thing, as I should be able to do because I’m an adult human. This is a story I don’t/have not shared with many because I don’t want to hear a certain set of questions that are a huge problem.

One day, within my first year of living in St. Louis, around 10 p.m. I really wanted chips and salsa. LIKE I NEEDED THEM IN MY FACE RIGHT THAT MINUTE. There is a 7-11 across the street from my house, which I now know is shady as fuck. Literally every weird thing that has happened to me in St. Louis has happened inside of, walking to, or walking away from this 7-11. I don’t walk there anymore. If I go, I have a game plan. I know what I’m going for, I come in my vehicle with the doors locked up to the point that I’m going to exit the vehicle, and the doors are locked the moment I’m back in my vehicle. Why not just go to another 7-11? Because the next one that I know of, is 5 miles away – conveniently inconvenient for a convenience store.

I want my chips and salsa, I want them now. I also don’t want to drive my car across the street, because why? It takes longer to exit my building, enter the parking garage, get up to the 4th floor, start my car, exit out of the parking garage go to a place, park. Get back in the car, back to the building, find the card key, get to the 4th floor, park etc. Why not just walk across the street? So, I layered up, and started walking. Halfway there, less than a block from my house, I’ve been outside for 2 minutes I hear. “Hey baby” from a male voice. I don’t even look, just keep walking while thinking “don’t engage”. From here on, the male in this conversation will be known as FPA (for fucking psychotic asshole).

FBA: Hey baby, hey sugar

Me: (Thinking, don’t engage, don’t engage)

FBA: Girl, I’m talking to you, you’re looking pretty cute!

Me: (Thinking “WTF dude, I’m wrapped up like a fucking Eskimo!”)

FBA: Can’t you year me sweet thing?

Me: Yeah, just going to 7-11, it’s cool man

FBA: You’re pretty cute, come talk to me

Me: Just going to 7-11 dude

FBA: Bitch

Obviously my pace quickened, and as I instinctively clutched my pepper spray tightly in my hands I hear, something that makes my heart fucking race.

FBA: Bitch, you think you’re too good for me? I just want to talk to you! What?! You got pepper spray *laughs* I’ve got a fucking gun bitch!

I actually ran across the street, and into the 7-11 parking lot without looking for cars as fast as I could, because that 7-11 as shady as it is, ALWAYS has a police officer there.

When I changed routes for the way home, and texted the one female friend that I had made out here she asked “Well why would you go there to begin with?”, and my response was, and I stand by it “Because it’s a fucking convenience store, it’s sole purpose is for me to conveniently obtain chips and salsa whenever I fucking please!”.

I was lucky, nothing actually happened. Janese was murdered for saying no.

Men claiming you have been harassed on the streets – I doubt you’ve been threatened with bodily harm and/or murder. SIT THE FUCK DOWN, AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.

We (women) deal with this on the daily. From the moment we step outside. If we say “Hi” out of politeness, it’s an open invitation. If we ignore, we’re a “bitch”. If we speak up we’re a”bitch”.  If we defend ourselves, we’re a “bitch”. If we do anything but submit, we’re a “bitch”. So fuck the fuck off with your “I’ve been catcalled before” bullshit. You get catcalled, you move on, try getting catcalled every fucking time you leave your house and then threatened with violence unless you submit. If you’re whining about being catcalled and you are male – you need to look at your sister, mom, cousin, girlfriend, friend – and acknowledge that you’ve never known what it’s like to truly have been harassed. We all have stories, every single one of us. EVERY SINGLE ONE.

 

 

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s