My story isn't one of being too cowardly to help another, but too cowardly to help myself. This isn't a rape story, so try not to be disappointed with the ending. I apologize for the depressing material, and I also bet that some people will think I'm a whiny feminazi, or something along those lines. But this is how I experienced it.
On the last day of term before Christmas break at my university, I ended up spending 12 hours straight working on my final project. I woke up at 8:30am, got to school at 9am, and worked on the project until 9pm with only a small thirty-minute lunch break for the whole day. When I was finally done I was ecstatic because it was finally over, I was incredibly proud of my work, and I was free for a whole two weeks of vacation.
By the time I left the school it had already gotten dark and I was alone, but I live literally a block from the school and didn't think much of it. Between my school and my apartment is a small bridge followed by a badly lit path through the park. Walking home I was whistling and I had a bounce in my step because I was so happy to be free of my classes. I was already planning getting home and cracking a few beers and playing some games to celebrate.
Halfway across the bridge I spotted three loud guys on the dark path that goes through the park. It was a Friday night and they were all carrying half empty bottles. Upon spotting them I stopped moving and started contemplating back tracking to the well-lit, populated recreation center that I had passed earlier, when one of them noticed me and called out, "Hey sweetheart, don't be afraid, we won't hurt you!"
I can't really explain why, but that got my feet moving and I continued walking towards them. Having them talk to me made them seem human and less scary, even if being called "sweetheart" by a stranger was a bit of a red flag. People in our culture, particularly women, are taught to be polite in all situations, and when you've lived your entire life trying to please and avoid offending others, it's difficult to break that cycle, even if you perceive danger.
As I got closer it was obvious I should have turned around. One of the three guys was obviously high and/or drunk out of his mind, but ceased to be a threat because he lay down on a hedge and pretty much passed out. Another of the guys seemed slightly embarrassed that his friend had called me over and avoided eye contact, but he had a pretty creepy air about him. The third guy watched me coming and started asking me a bunch of questions, ie, "Hey baby, whatcha out here for, where you come from, do you go to the school?" They had positioned themselves so I had to walk right through their group to get past.
I told him that yes, I did go to the school.
"Well I like art students, especially short blond ones."
The tone of voice was not friendly. I continued walking.
"Where are you going? Why don't you come out with us, it's a Friday night sweetheart!"
"No", I told him, "I just got done my final project, I'm going to go home and celebrate"(stupid, why would they care or need to know about your project?)
They followed me and I continued to be harassed. The guy made comments about my butt, my boobs, my hair, my waist, what he wanted to do to me, where he wanted to take me, kept calling me pet names, etc. A couple of times he got uncomfortably close to me, but never touched me, and I never stopped walking. His friend looked awkward but didn't tell him to lay off. The entire time the hairs were standing up on the back of my neck, I was terrified and feared for my safety, but never once did I stop being polite or smiling. Part of it was not being able to stop, as being polite is my default personality setting and it's not easy to turn off. Another part of it was that I was subconsciously trying to prevent provoking this guy. As much as I was scared and as much as I wanted to tell him to stop, I didn't want to make him angry. I don't want to paint it as though I was happily receiving the attention though. Anyone could have been able to tell I was highly uncomfortable - I was avoiding eye contact, giving short one-word answers, declining all their advances, my voice was shaky and I was walking quickly and never slowed down.
Finally, the path split off and it looked like we were headed in different directions. This is where I feel most like a coward. He continues to try to get me to come out with him with implications of date rape, and I say, "No, I'm going to keep going this way, but have a nice night".
That's the part that still bothers me today. I had this creep sexually harassing me and impeding on my rights and I told him to have a nice goddamn night. He felt entitled to my body, addressed me like an object, made me fearful, and I rewarded him courtesy. I know in the back of my mind that it was a self-preservation instinct, that I was trying to non-threateningly end the encounter and leave without being hurt, but that doesn't change the fact that I feel like a spineless, misogynist coward for letting this asshole get away with speaking to me like that. He probably went off to some party and made a dozen other women uncomfortable if not worse.
He also got to saunter away, go on with his life and never think twice about the encounter again, while I got to go home and feel dirty, relive my moment of cowardice in my head many times over, and spend the next several weeks afraid when walking home. It's particularly hurtful because I think all people believe that if they were to ever find themselves in a compromising position, they'd be brave, act fast, whatever. I think we all scream at protagonists in horror movies for not doing "what we would do in that situation". However, once you're actually there, fear and self-preservation take hold and you don't do the smart thing. It's difficult coming to terms with the fact that your perception of yourself as a strong, smart person who can handle themselves is wrong.
I also don't think men really realize how damaging cat calling is. If it's daytime and you're in a public area, the woman will think your a jerk. If it's night and she's alone, you're going to make her fear for her life. Neither situation is enjoyable for the woman.
The main thing that I've noticed about cat calling is that it almost always happens when men are in groups. It's never an attempt to actually pick up women, but to reinforce your masculinity and power, and strengthen bonds with other males - but is a macho show for friends really worth degrading another human being?
I wish it wasn't.
Guys out there, I hope you appreciate that you can go out at 10pm and pick up milk, walk home from parties, or go out to enjoy the sound of the city at night if it so pleases you. Because that's not a privilege we all have.
