My commute home from work early this morning began with a touch of luck. I happened to make a swift transfer from my first bus to the last, excited knowing I would be home 15 to 20 minutes earlier than usual. It was a humid morning in Minneapolis, with grey skies and damp streets, but no rain just yet. I settled into the bus seat feeling grateful. The A/C was sweet relief on my face. I like the early morning rides home. The buses are fairly empty, the mostly blue-collared passengers are just waking up, and everyone generally keeps to themselves. It also makes for a perfect time to read, especially once I hit that second bus - it’s a straight shot home and I know the stops by heart.
About twelve blocks before my stop, I saw, in my peripheral, a body move from the back of the bus to the seat right behind me. A man about 15 years my senior sat there. He smelled like a fresh shower, and I caught a whiff of spearmint gum when he asked me if I was a school teacher. He’s harmless, I thought.
Oh, no. I chuckled, I’m just reading a book for myself.
Well, he said, you sure look smart reading that book. What’s it about?
I told him the book was about solving equity issues and how to make society truly free. He said that was a nice thing to read about. I told him I thought so, too, then attempted to turn back to the book.
I’m a pastry chef, he said.
That’s great, I offered. Do you enjoy the work?
Ah, yes. I enjoy working with my hands.
Hmm. That’s good, then.
Yes, I make all kinds of sweet things. Do you like sweet things?
Umm, I dunno. I more like savory pastries, I guess.
I see, you're a savory girl. What’s your favorite pastry, if I were to make one for you?
Oh, I don’t know. Thanks, though.
I could send it to your house, if I had your address?
That’s alright, thank you. I again pulled the book up to my face.
Do you ride this bus often?
Depends on the day, I said, not looking up. (I ride this bus almost exclusively, I thought. Luckily, I’m moving soon. I was obviously feeling extremely uncomfortable.)
Well, where’s your stop at?
Oh, just up the way a few blocks. I kept staring at my open book, not reading the words.
I see. I’m at 38th. Going to go home, go to the gym, get nice and sweaty…
That’s one stop after my stop. Uh, huh.
The bus driver announced the next stop, which was five stops away from my actual stop for a total of eight blocks away from my house. I jumped up and got off the bus, barely even thinking about if I had all of my belongings on me, and not caring that I wouldn’t make it home early after all. I couldn’t stop myself from peeking back over my shoulder, even after I knew I was safe.
There is a largely accepted, traditional opinion that the reason a woman needs to “find a man” is so that he can protect her from other men (how the irony in this trajectory is lost on some is beyond me.) There is also a large sphere of people, mainly men but also women, who hate the term feminism and who believe sexism is a contrived, unsubstantiated ploy built by politicians and tree-huggers. I find either of these beliefs to be sorry and antiquated excuses for blindly accepting indecent behavior. I am a single woman (and no variable in my life makes me believe that status is going to change anytime in my foreseeable future, but that’s another story.) And no, I don’t carry weapons. Also, I am not naive. I am vividly in tune with my surroundings, while simultaneously aware that I have no choice but to attempt to get from A to B to C, because that’s what life requires. I have to go to work, and I have to come home from work. I take the bus, partly because I live on a budget, and partly because I believe public transportation is a good thing (again, another story.) Had I not been single this morning, that mere fact would not have spared my having to live through, yet another, misogynistic experience involving a strange man and a public place.
Feminism is not a fallacious term intended to give women special privileges or to create inequality. The opposite is true. If I were to ask my male counterpart how many times he has experienced a situation similar to what I experienced this morning, I guarantee it would be less than a handful of times, if any at all. I should be able to live the same existence he naturally gets to live. That is feminism.
If any woman, when asked, says that she has never experienced harassment or sexism, she is either lying or is incapable of recognizing it. If any man tells me that sexism is a political construct or that “of course men and women aren’t equal,” his view must be rejected as erroneous considering the fact that he has never been a woman.
Women don’t need a boyfriend, husband, friend, or even a father or a brother, to be with them at all times for protection. What women do need is for all of us to train men to treat us better, which starts with all of us recognizing that often we aren’t being treated well in the first place.
