Woman Walking
This morning around 7:30am, I was walking Roxy, our two-year-old black lab, in the park near our house. This responsibility falls to me most mornings and I enjoy starting the morning with a peaceful walk.
The sunrise was lighting the paths and it was light enough to head out without a flashlight. The sun would be rising in a matter of seconds, but even so, I took the road instead of the path behind the houses to ensure our safety. We're nestled in a quiet cul-de-sac, and the park is on a very quiet road, but as a woman out by herself, even with a large animal, feeling safe is my first concern.
If one wishes to walk around the park, there's only one path. In snow-less weather it diverges often, but in winter it's a small circle due to plowed areas, and most dog walkers take the path even though it gets a bit crowded. We wish each other good mornings and have a great days, and comment on the size, shape, color, breed and attitude of the pooches as we pass. I know the path, I know my neighbors, and even though Roxy tends in family play wrestles to join the side of the fighter instead of the victim and is a complete kitten to anyone who scratches her armpits, she looks scary to those who don't know her. My point is, I felt comfortable.
There wasn't a soul in sight this morning which wasn't unusual for a weekend. Roxy and I took our time, she sniffing every other dropping and foot and paw print like a lead investigator and me side stepping ice and watching the sun rise. As we rounded a corner, I noticed a man with a backpack enter the path in front of us, walking away from us. He seemed in a hurry, and was far enough away that I couldn't tell if it was someone we'd encountered before.
Here's the thing: my fear radar - feradar? - went up. He didn't have a dog or a child. What was he doing in the park? No one with urine-bloated dogs are out walking, so why was he? And despite my work of feeling comfortable and safe, despite the sun shining and my big dog walking next to me, I went immediately to the defensive. I was defensive because it was clear: I have a vagina, he has a penis and he had the upper hand.
I know some people will read this and huff. Don't play the victim! Women are amazons! You're strong and he could be a wimp! You're stereotyping him and yourself. You have no idea who he is, where he's going, if he's a pacifist or not. He has just as much right as you do to use this park. I get it. While my initial reaction was fear, my second thoughts were all of this. But what you have to remember is that a woman alone doesn't have the precious gift of giving someone the benefit of the doubt. We just don't.
Roxy and I slowed down and the space between us and Backpack grew larger. I continued eyeing him warily, and started instinctively thinking of my exit strategies. I was holding a warm bag of Roxy's poop. Which was more effective - smearing the shit on my face and acting crazy? Or throwing pieces of it at him though my aim is fairly inaccurate? Could I get the plastic baggie open in time or would I struggle? I'd definitely drop the leash and run, there were many houses and condos near us. I'm a runner, but not really fast. Would people respond? Are people awake? Would they open the door? They didn't for Trayvon. Could I punch him? Usually when I think of punching someone in the face, I worry that I don't have the force I need. Would I start out strong and end up just slapping him in an effort to not hurt him too badly or risk making him angry?
At one point, Roxy stopped to pee, and I looked down. When I next looked up, five seconds later, the man was gone. I began to panic a little, and looked all around me. I was out in the open, but there were tons of trees in the direction he was going, and a little warming house. He could be hiding behind there. Both areas I would have to pass with Roxy soon. Was I going to walk right into danger?
There was nothing else to do but continue along the path towards home. So we continued and I didn't see him again by the time I got home. I walked into the house, did a 180 and locked the door behind me.
I love being a woman. I AM strong and fierce, in peace and in war. I care, I'm gentle and thoughtful. I will be your ally and stay loyal. I alternate between being what I think of as feminine and masculine whenever I want and need. I love being myself - I'm goofy and irrational and intense, and I love with a force unmatched by many.
But sometimes I wish I weren't a woman. I want to have the confidence with which men are born. Because this constant worry is exhausting.
The sunrise was lighting the paths and it was light enough to head out without a flashlight. The sun would be rising in a matter of seconds, but even so, I took the road instead of the path behind the houses to ensure our safety. We're nestled in a quiet cul-de-sac, and the park is on a very quiet road, but as a woman out by herself, even with a large animal, feeling safe is my first concern.
If one wishes to walk around the park, there's only one path. In snow-less weather it diverges often, but in winter it's a small circle due to plowed areas, and most dog walkers take the path even though it gets a bit crowded. We wish each other good mornings and have a great days, and comment on the size, shape, color, breed and attitude of the pooches as we pass. I know the path, I know my neighbors, and even though Roxy tends in family play wrestles to join the side of the fighter instead of the victim and is a complete kitten to anyone who scratches her armpits, she looks scary to those who don't know her. My point is, I felt comfortable.
There wasn't a soul in sight this morning which wasn't unusual for a weekend. Roxy and I took our time, she sniffing every other dropping and foot and paw print like a lead investigator and me side stepping ice and watching the sun rise. As we rounded a corner, I noticed a man with a backpack enter the path in front of us, walking away from us. He seemed in a hurry, and was far enough away that I couldn't tell if it was someone we'd encountered before.
Here's the thing: my fear radar - feradar? - went up. He didn't have a dog or a child. What was he doing in the park? No one with urine-bloated dogs are out walking, so why was he? And despite my work of feeling comfortable and safe, despite the sun shining and my big dog walking next to me, I went immediately to the defensive. I was defensive because it was clear: I have a vagina, he has a penis and he had the upper hand.
I know some people will read this and huff. Don't play the victim! Women are amazons! You're strong and he could be a wimp! You're stereotyping him and yourself. You have no idea who he is, where he's going, if he's a pacifist or not. He has just as much right as you do to use this park. I get it. While my initial reaction was fear, my second thoughts were all of this. But what you have to remember is that a woman alone doesn't have the precious gift of giving someone the benefit of the doubt. We just don't.
Roxy and I slowed down and the space between us and Backpack grew larger. I continued eyeing him warily, and started instinctively thinking of my exit strategies. I was holding a warm bag of Roxy's poop. Which was more effective - smearing the shit on my face and acting crazy? Or throwing pieces of it at him though my aim is fairly inaccurate? Could I get the plastic baggie open in time or would I struggle? I'd definitely drop the leash and run, there were many houses and condos near us. I'm a runner, but not really fast. Would people respond? Are people awake? Would they open the door? They didn't for Trayvon. Could I punch him? Usually when I think of punching someone in the face, I worry that I don't have the force I need. Would I start out strong and end up just slapping him in an effort to not hurt him too badly or risk making him angry?
At one point, Roxy stopped to pee, and I looked down. When I next looked up, five seconds later, the man was gone. I began to panic a little, and looked all around me. I was out in the open, but there were tons of trees in the direction he was going, and a little warming house. He could be hiding behind there. Both areas I would have to pass with Roxy soon. Was I going to walk right into danger?
There was nothing else to do but continue along the path towards home. So we continued and I didn't see him again by the time I got home. I walked into the house, did a 180 and locked the door behind me.
I love being a woman. I AM strong and fierce, in peace and in war. I care, I'm gentle and thoughtful. I will be your ally and stay loyal. I alternate between being what I think of as feminine and masculine whenever I want and need. I love being myself - I'm goofy and irrational and intense, and I love with a force unmatched by many.
But sometimes I wish I weren't a woman. I want to have the confidence with which men are born. Because this constant worry is exhausting.
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