And All You Men are Slime

I’m not small and defenseless, quite the opposite actually, and I’m not easily shaken either. I don’t mind leaving myself vulnerable to the elements and I have no problem with being alone. But there are times when I’m forced to reconsider. It’s never far from home though; oddly enough, I usually feel safer in places far from what I call home.

That said, I am so sick of ASSHOLES FLASHING ME THEIR DICKS ON THE RARE OCCASIONS THAT I DECIDE TO COMMUTE. Today was the third time. I was on my way home and already walking down my block, when a gunmetal colored sedan (I did not catch the plate, should make a note of this next time) stopped just a few meters ahead of me. From where I was, I saw the window roll down. Usually I’m not alarmed because I live in an area where people easily get lost, so times like these are usually just people asking for directions.

But today, no one was lost. Instead, as I walked by the car, I see the driver looking out and leaning towards the open window. Jacking it.

What the fuck? Why? What do you have to gain? And where on earth does it come from that you can wield this shit over women and think you can get away with it and STILL DEMAND RESPECT when you are a sick excuse for humanity and a waste of life. It’s traumatic, disrespectful, disFUCKINGgusting and beyond all thought processes capable of justifying it. I do not understand. Catcalls are one thing, but what the fuck is that?

So I ran. He was alone but so was I. Problem was I wasn’t armed, and he might be. Everytime this happens I freeze, I panic, I feel like throwing up in my mouth and I run. God forbid there be a next time but I REALLY SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN THE PLATE ON THAT CAR. These are times when I wish I carried a gun so I could shoot fuckers like this in the face. A gun or a grenade, but I used to carry mace and even that got confiscated twice.

Funny thing is before I got on the train this afternoon, the guard was taking an unusually long time inspecting my things. She made me set my bag down so she could stick her hand in–which I knew was illegal, I should have spoken up–and she comes up with my knife.

“Ano ‘to?” she asked.
“Pliers.”
“Kaya pala ang bigat ng ilalim no?”
I shrug.
“May pliers siya?” the male guard asked.
I just smiled at them both. Besides carrying the knife around for boy scout duties, it’s just something I made sure never to leave the house without because despite my lack of intention to actually use it to kill someone, it made me feel just a tiny bit safer. I felt a little sick just then, sick at the thought of her taking my “pliers” away.

I hate having to be reminded of why I carry what I carry. I hate having to be reminded of what I resent about living here; about men; about being a girl.

Question for the ladies is, what would you have done?