Overall, my evening was spectacular, both before and after being ruffled by the Red Eye. Sort of a sandwich, an anger filling between thick, soft slices of awesomeness bread... Yes, that sounds right.

I got off work, I took advantage of the perfectly crisp October weather and wandered the city for 3 hours. Solitary walks are among my all-time favorite activities, especially in the glowing purple of autumnal twilight. I coasted over the sidewalks, a silhouette bopping to the musice piping through my headphones, jaywalking and jumping over cracks and being generally cheery.

I marvelled over the ivy-colored homes along the lakeshore. I went to a bookstore and stumbled into a discussion. I made a spontaneous stop at an art studio to check out the prices of classes, and was given a very enthusiastic tour by a plump, handsome young student who was toting his portfolio. I went to Whole Foods and ate liberal handfuls of free organic crackers.

The music! The night! The strangers! It was so beautiful and breezy and violet and mine.

I relish my alone time. Wandering through streets and alleyways is my most treasured way of acclimating to a new environment, of weening myself off of that awful touristy feeling one gets when one relocates. Through my sojourns, I see myself through the eyes of the unfamiliar natives I pass, and I make myself at home. I find and explore backstreets and alleyways until they become a part of my subconcious.

Before boarding the train last night to return to my aparment, I passed a copy of The Red Eye, the front page screaming the glaring headline "Northside Rapist on the Loose," or words to that effect. Concerned, I bought a copy of the paper, and read the front page article.

A serial rapist is prowling the very area that I wandered through last night, one of my favorite wandering-haunts. He has assaulted several women who were walking alone, threatening them with a knife before throwing them to the ground and raping them. One of them was leaving a 7-11. One on them was heading home from a nightclub, another from a bar. None of these women had very far to go; they were in the same neighborhoods in which they live, shop, pay taxes, and vote.

What the fuck.

I'm not angry at the Red Eye. The Red Eye did not rape anyone. The Red Eye is trying to help, the article wisely advising women to avoid walking alone at night, listening to music, talking on their cell phones, being unaware of their surroundings. The situation, however, is a symptom of a problem way too big and complex for me to get my head around... and that situation is what pisses me off.

I refuse to be afraid to walk alone in my city, by my home at any time of the day. That would be admitting defeat. I feel helpless, but I refuse to be helpless. I refuse to let the possible presence of a faceless rapist encroach on my life. Rape victims are not raped because they are victims. They are raped because some misogynistic asshole thinks it's OK to take advantage of them.

Society says (yes, I'm accusing that all-powerful and heavy handed society) that a woman walking by herself IS powerless, that she KNOWS she is powerless, and that since she must KNOW this, because she's been TOLD this so many times, then she's partially responsible if some FUCKER decides to approach her and brutally violate her.

Fuck that. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. That is utter bullshit.

I know, it's easy for me to climb up on my soapbox and state a refusal to give up my everlasting independence, as I am among the lucky 75% of women who haven't been sexually assaulted. Woo, 75%. Bully for me. That means 3 out of 4 women haven't been raped. Whoop-dee.

Come on. We all know at least 4 women.

Off-hand, I can think of six (SIX!) of my close women friends who have told me they've been raped, and I wouldn't be surprised if there are a few more who are keeping it a secret. I am happy to walk with them, and have them walk with me. I love them, I want them to feel safe, and I am glad to help them. I've marched in "Take Back the Night," and it was, indeed, empowering. But I refuse to accept that I need a bodyguard to go to the corner store for a gallon of milk. It saddens and enfuriates me that a woman by herself is not regarded as powerful.

It is bullshit to perpetuate the mindset that those of us who haven't been raped are "lucky." That's like saying being raped is the norm, that it is expected. It is bullshit to warn a woman that by walking alone in her own neighborhood, she is putting herself at risk, as if she should expect a predator to be lurking by her mailbox. It is bullshit to say that for a woman to feel safe in her own is "naive," that she is "letting her guard down." It is bullshit because it is, at this point in time, not bullshit.

I have no solution to propose. More adequate police protection? Maybe for a while. More stringent prison sentences for sex offenders? Hell, yeah. (Fuckers.) But it's much bigger than that.

I'm shaking. I wish I had a drink.

I remember walking to a party my freshman year in college by myself in the middle of the night. I was on campus, and came to a particularly dark and desolate stairwell on my way to the party, and I was suddenly seized by a dark panic, like someone had snuck up and put a bucket over my head. This was not an unfamiliar feeling. It was the panic of "what if," the knowlege that I was alone, that it was dark, and that someone could come around the corner and hurt me.

The feeling passed, and I got to the party OK. Later that night, I was telling one of my best (male) friends about this moment of blind, irrational terror, which I had felt before and knew I would feel again. He blinked at me, and acknowleged that he had never felt that way. Not on campus, at least; not in a "safe" and familiar area less than a mile from where he slept. I blinked back at him. We both became angry.

Please, be angry.

Don't raise your sons to be misogynists. Don't hang out with misogynists. Ladies, if you are in a relationship with a misogynist, hit him with a frying pan and get the fuck out. You're worth so much more, and you don't deserve that shit. Let your daughters know that they deserve to feel safe.

All easier said than done, I know. Rape survivors, my heart goes out to you. I have no idea what you've been through.

It may not be wise, but I refuse to give up my sojourns. Instead, I'm going to buy a switchblade. You think I'm kidding? Nope. I can't say, for sure, that I'd have the presence of mind to defend myself if the necessity arose, but I'm taking my own actions.

I. Will. Not. Give. Up. My. Life.

Look, I'm just mad.

Fuck those fuckers. Fuck them right in the eye. Fuck them in the eye with the gleaming metal of my switchblade-to-be.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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