Thursday, September 10, 2009
Why Feminism Still Has So Many Km (or miles) To Go!
The other day I was at the library. Sitting, doing my own thing at a table to myself. At the table in front of me was a woman who looked like she was reading, though I wasn't really paying attention and I could only see her from the back.
I sat there about 10 minutes give or take, and then a man showed up for the woman. He greeted her thusly. "Why didn't you answer your phone? I've called you 4 times? Why didn't you answer it?" She, very meekly began to respond. I couldn't quite hear what she was saying, but I did manage to catch her trying to explain that the phone had died. She showed him her dead phone. He was mildly satiated.
While she was trying to explain, I noticed she seemed scared of him. Though I never did get to see her face, her body posture shrunk when he approached her.
(And I'm pretty sure I wasn't projecting.)
Then he looked at her and said, in the tone one might use with an incredibly idiotic person, "Come on?!", to indicate that he had arrived, berated her, so obviously it was time to go.
This was then followed by some pathetic inquiry about what she was reading; who bloody well knows why? Maybe to see if there was any competition.
I should now describe them. He was short, seedy and blue collar looking. In other words, uneducated, rough and ass-hole like. She, looked at first, ok. The library is in a nice part of the city, and at first glance she looked like she "fit in".
I could only see her back. But, then as she was getting up to go, I glanced up, hoping to see her face, even meet her eyes, maybe give her support. Though, what I did see instead was a very thin string of her g-string showing from above her pants. She no longer looked average or ok or like the kind of patron who "belongs" in that kind of area, she looked like trash. And, more than likely she dressed for 'her man.'
It made me feel so sad and upset, seeing all of that. The way he treated her. The way she cowered. The sloppy way she was put together. Her pants sort of hung on her tall frame.
Usually I speak up when I see a woman being harassed by a 'man' she's with. In this situation I didn't because it was just "normal" shit wasn't it? Only it wasn't. It never is.
I know I wasn't projecting, and all the same I wish someone had opened their mouth, or fuck, their pen for me, nuff times, even now.