I was tagged by gmburson
Rule 1: Always post the rules
Rule 2: Answer the questions the person who tagged you asked and write 9 new ones.
Rule 3: tag 11 people and link them to this post.
Rule 4: Actually tell them you tagged them.
1. What was your nickname in high school? I didn’t really have one other than my last name.
2. If you could be an cartoon character, who would you be? If I could be a cartoon character, I would be Sailor Mars. She is strong, beautiful, and strong of character.
3. What is your most embarrassing moment that you can remember? The time that I walked around a store with no underwear on and a zipper down on the back of a skirt. Free peep show that day. I was soooo mortified. At least the sales associate pointed out to me that the zipper wasn’t zipped before i strutted too far through the store.
4. Who is/was your biggest influence in your life? My mother has been the biggest influence in my life. She was full of love and wisdom , handwork and dedication, and all around the best human I’ve ever met in my life. I wish every single day that she was still here.
5. Do you have any collections of anything? I have a makeup collection….I’m trying to quelch the buying more things addiction for that and use what I have.
6. What is a relationship deal breaker for you? Physical and mental abuse.
7. What is the best restaurant you’ve ever eaten at? The RAM.
8. What is your favorite curse word? FUCK!
9. Have you ever had your heart broken? I’ve had my heart broken and I think there will always be pieces of it that I will be missing.
1. What is your dream vacation?
2. Describe the best dessert you’ve ever had to me?
3. What is your earliest childhood memory?
4. Do you belong to any sort of club or society?
5. What are your favorite type of sheets?
6. Can you play any musical instruments?
7. How old were you when you lost your virginity?
8. What do you like about yourself?
9. How do you feel about hugs?
Last night a man asked me for a dollar as I left the subway on my way home. I gave him one.
He then proceeded to start talking to me and followed me for ten minutes as I tried to walk home. He ignored my repeated attempts to part ways and made comments about my body, his body and allude to us having sex. He asked personal questions about my life. He asked if I was married. I told him that I had a boyfriend, not because I owed him any answer, but my past experience has shown that these type of men, when hearing you are ‘taken’ often will leave you alone out of respect, not for you of course, but for the man who already ‘has’ you.
He walked all the way to the block I lived, talking away, moving closer to my side while I clutched my keys, splayed out between my fingers in one pocket and my cell phone in the other, mind frantically going over my options to get out of this situation. How to get away from this man without angering him. How to get into my apartment without him seeing where I lived.
When I turned the corner of my block I saw that the bodega was open. I told him I had to go to the store and said, again, good night. He followed me into the store, where with witnesses and the store owner who knows my face I had to courage to tell him to stop following me. That I didn’t want him to know where I lived. To go away.
He called me a bitch.
The store owner made him stay in the store long enough for me to dart across the street, duck into my apartment, and lock the door behind me.
I’ve spent most of today going over in my head what I did wrong to get into this situation.
I was stupid to give him a dollar. To speak to him after. To let him walk with me so far. To be so concerned with being polite.
But what that really boils down to is that I, my entire life, have been told that being a woman in public is asking for attention, and once received it is my fault in some way.
I don’t owe anybody conversation, my number, my time. It’s not a complement.
The truly insidious thing about harassment is that in the moment, the potential violence, quiet, persistent and vague threat combine with a world of people telling you that if something bad happens to you it’s YOUR fault. The conditioning women receive to be ‘nice’, be polite, smile for goodness sake (lest, horrors of all horrors we become that horrendous monster, a bitch). All this is why we accept being uncomfortable, being afraid, why we consider how our keys could be used as a weapon.
The man called me a bitch, and my biggest regret today is that I wasn’t a bigger one.