notes on a stalker
This is long but I want you to read it.
The only thing of note that happened yesterday was that I ran into my stalker, and this encounter was particularly unnerving. I transferred at 59th Street and I heard someone whistling behind me when I got on the A train, so I turned to see who it was and, "AAAHH! STALKER!" Then the doors closed and I felt totally trapped on the leg of the trip between 59th and 125th. I opted to ignore him and read, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him flip through one of the free papers, then fold it under his arm and just stare at me.
This is what he does. He just stares, without flinching or looking at anything else. Sometimes when I run into him, he'll say something like, "Hi, have a good day." Note: I do not know this man. I had never met him prior to the first moment I noticed him staring at me. I've probably run into him about a dozen times since I first noticed him a year ago. I don't think he goes out of his way to stalk me, just that our commutes coincide. Or our morning commute used to coincide, until I started modifying it. And I hadn't seen him in a while, but then I saw him in the evening 2 weeks ago, so now that I'm working later, I guess our evening commutes coincide.
He's shorter than I am, maybe 5'4" or 5'5". He's very round: round bald head, round-ish body. He wears rectangular black-rimmed glasses. He carries around a metal briefcase that's the sort of thing one might use to carry weapons or large sums of money if one were in a movie. He's probably in his mid-30s. If I had to guess, I'd say he's Dominican, but I'm not really sure on that. He seems to live in Inwood and work near Rockefeller Center.
So anyway, I'm trapped with him on a very crowded train car. At 125th Street, I get off the train and then proceed to make a couple of what felt like dumb decisions, which elevated my state of mind from "fearful" to "panic," the same way telling yourself to calm down aggravates a panic attack. The doors were open for a long time, so I got back on the train in a different car. As soon as I got on the train, I second-guessed that because a) maybe he could see me through the windows between cars, and b) if he got off at my stop, I might run into him again. And, actually, the car I got onto was closer to the exit than the previous car, so I'd be walking in front of him if we exited the train at the same time. Would he know I switched cars to avoid him? Would he take the hint and back off? Would he even notice? But then the doors closed and I was trapped again.
I was worried about him following me once I was out of the subway. If he did this on my way to work, it's less of an issue, because I work in a big building with security. On the way home, not so much, and I really didn't want him knowing where I lived. When the train got to 207th Street, I ran out of the station as fast as my feet would take me, then almost killed myself when my sandal fell of on a step and I tripped. (Again elevating the panic level, because I couldn't get away fast enough.) I walked briskly to my apartment and glanced back once and saw him walking on the other side of the street. I originally thought I might duck into the grocery store instead of going straight home, but see above about dumb decisions. Then I went inside and sat in my living room with the lights out so that it wouldn't be obvious from the outside which apartment I had gone into.
And, see, the thing is that, even though he's never done anything more than stare at me and make me feel uncomfortable (well, also follow me), I feel terrorized in a way, like I always have to have my guard up in case today is the day he chooses to go psycho and attack me.
Well, I guess that's one thing I won't miss about Inwood.
What the hell, men? I doubt any of the guys on my friends list behave in these ways, so I don't mean to lump you all together, but I also get the impression that some of my male friends don't really get it... this fear that comes when a man nearby starts acting strangely, or the fury you feel later on because he's the crazy one, but you have to modify your behavior in order to stay safe. Higher necklines! Longer skirts! Different commuting times and/or trains! Don't be alone at night! Carry mace! Dammit, it's your fault for being a woman with the strange combo of an innocent-looking face with big boobs and wide hips! I can get down on myself for the extra pounds I'm carrying these days, but nothing will make me feel more ashamed of my body than the menacing stare of some dude who thinks I exist merely for him to look at. And I should not feel ashamed! I am what I am! Cognitively, I know that none of this is my fault, but I always walk away from these encounters feeling like I did something to bring on that attention. Every time some guy says, "Ai, Mami!" or "Hey, sexy lady!" or what have you... every time some guy decides it's okay to follow me until I talk to him... every lewd gesture or guy rubbing against me on the subway while he looks at porn... not one of those incidents is my fault, but I always walk away feeling like it is, and I feel gross and kind of violated... and it's never even gotten violent, so I still condsider myself lucky in that regard. But I shouldn't have to! Why is it all on women to keep themselves safe and not on men to not act like violent assholes?
somelulex sent me a link yesterday to information about an Eve Ensler series of events in New York to combat violence against women, and although I totally support the event, I feel like we're still asking the wrong questions. Ensler's events are all still pretty women-centric, or they spread awareness to the sorts of men who wouldn't even think of being violent or abusive. What are we doing for men like my stalker? How do we teach predatory men that their behavior is not acceptable? Because it seems to me that society is still pretty permissive, especially since we're always so quick to blame the victim. Recently, I read an editorial about the woman who was raped and killed after an encounter with a man at an LES bar. The editorial was all, "She was in a bar in the Lower East Side alone at 3am, what did she expect?" It's all on the woman, see. We (collective societal "we") still act all, "Oh, men will be men," when we hear about stories like this. And that's completely the wrong approach to the problem. Telling women they don't have to take it doesn't make them any more safe.
The only thing of note that happened yesterday was that I ran into my stalker, and this encounter was particularly unnerving. I transferred at 59th Street and I heard someone whistling behind me when I got on the A train, so I turned to see who it was and, "AAAHH! STALKER!" Then the doors closed and I felt totally trapped on the leg of the trip between 59th and 125th. I opted to ignore him and read, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him flip through one of the free papers, then fold it under his arm and just stare at me.
This is what he does. He just stares, without flinching or looking at anything else. Sometimes when I run into him, he'll say something like, "Hi, have a good day." Note: I do not know this man. I had never met him prior to the first moment I noticed him staring at me. I've probably run into him about a dozen times since I first noticed him a year ago. I don't think he goes out of his way to stalk me, just that our commutes coincide. Or our morning commute used to coincide, until I started modifying it. And I hadn't seen him in a while, but then I saw him in the evening 2 weeks ago, so now that I'm working later, I guess our evening commutes coincide.
He's shorter than I am, maybe 5'4" or 5'5". He's very round: round bald head, round-ish body. He wears rectangular black-rimmed glasses. He carries around a metal briefcase that's the sort of thing one might use to carry weapons or large sums of money if one were in a movie. He's probably in his mid-30s. If I had to guess, I'd say he's Dominican, but I'm not really sure on that. He seems to live in Inwood and work near Rockefeller Center.
So anyway, I'm trapped with him on a very crowded train car. At 125th Street, I get off the train and then proceed to make a couple of what felt like dumb decisions, which elevated my state of mind from "fearful" to "panic," the same way telling yourself to calm down aggravates a panic attack. The doors were open for a long time, so I got back on the train in a different car. As soon as I got on the train, I second-guessed that because a) maybe he could see me through the windows between cars, and b) if he got off at my stop, I might run into him again. And, actually, the car I got onto was closer to the exit than the previous car, so I'd be walking in front of him if we exited the train at the same time. Would he know I switched cars to avoid him? Would he take the hint and back off? Would he even notice? But then the doors closed and I was trapped again.
I was worried about him following me once I was out of the subway. If he did this on my way to work, it's less of an issue, because I work in a big building with security. On the way home, not so much, and I really didn't want him knowing where I lived. When the train got to 207th Street, I ran out of the station as fast as my feet would take me, then almost killed myself when my sandal fell of on a step and I tripped. (Again elevating the panic level, because I couldn't get away fast enough.) I walked briskly to my apartment and glanced back once and saw him walking on the other side of the street. I originally thought I might duck into the grocery store instead of going straight home, but see above about dumb decisions. Then I went inside and sat in my living room with the lights out so that it wouldn't be obvious from the outside which apartment I had gone into.
And, see, the thing is that, even though he's never done anything more than stare at me and make me feel uncomfortable (well, also follow me), I feel terrorized in a way, like I always have to have my guard up in case today is the day he chooses to go psycho and attack me.
Well, I guess that's one thing I won't miss about Inwood.
What the hell, men? I doubt any of the guys on my friends list behave in these ways, so I don't mean to lump you all together, but I also get the impression that some of my male friends don't really get it... this fear that comes when a man nearby starts acting strangely, or the fury you feel later on because he's the crazy one, but you have to modify your behavior in order to stay safe. Higher necklines! Longer skirts! Different commuting times and/or trains! Don't be alone at night! Carry mace! Dammit, it's your fault for being a woman with the strange combo of an innocent-looking face with big boobs and wide hips! I can get down on myself for the extra pounds I'm carrying these days, but nothing will make me feel more ashamed of my body than the menacing stare of some dude who thinks I exist merely for him to look at. And I should not feel ashamed! I am what I am! Cognitively, I know that none of this is my fault, but I always walk away from these encounters feeling like I did something to bring on that attention. Every time some guy says, "Ai, Mami!" or "Hey, sexy lady!" or what have you... every time some guy decides it's okay to follow me until I talk to him... every lewd gesture or guy rubbing against me on the subway while he looks at porn... not one of those incidents is my fault, but I always walk away feeling like it is, and I feel gross and kind of violated... and it's never even gotten violent, so I still condsider myself lucky in that regard. But I shouldn't have to! Why is it all on women to keep themselves safe and not on men to not act like violent assholes?
somelulex sent me a link yesterday to information about an Eve Ensler series of events in New York to combat violence against women, and although I totally support the event, I feel like we're still asking the wrong questions. Ensler's events are all still pretty women-centric, or they spread awareness to the sorts of men who wouldn't even think of being violent or abusive. What are we doing for men like my stalker? How do we teach predatory men that their behavior is not acceptable? Because it seems to me that society is still pretty permissive, especially since we're always so quick to blame the victim. Recently, I read an editorial about the woman who was raped and killed after an encounter with a man at an LES bar. The editorial was all, "She was in a bar in the Lower East Side alone at 3am, what did she expect?" It's all on the woman, see. We (collective societal "we") still act all, "Oh, men will be men," when we hear about stories like this. And that's completely the wrong approach to the problem. Telling women they don't have to take it doesn't make them any more safe.