Can We Normalise Snitching On Rapists?
Sometimes silence really is violence.
If you’re looking for a pleasant spot to get pickpocketed, I can highly recommend a Wednesday morning on a jam-packed train to Charles-de-Gaulle Airport.
I’d just finished a month of travelling in France, I was down to my last €3 (~$3), and I was so exhausted that when I felt an old man pressing against my leg more urgently than was strictly necessary, I didn’t even care.
But after around thirty seconds, I decided that either he needed to buy me a drink before he continued, or he was trying to “dip” me. And sure enough, when I reached into my pocket, my wallet was gone.
As soon as I grabbed his arm, my would-be robber began an elaborate display of innocence. He showed me both sides of his hands, flashed the contents of his bag, he even gave me a detailed inventory of the inside of his mouth, twisting his tongue from side to side to prove that nothing (not even teeth) was hidden inside.
But when his performance failed to convince me, he produced my wallet — from where I’d rather not guess — and tossed it on the ground: sans cash, but avec credit cards.
Fine.
In fact, the only thing that bothered me about the experience was the woman who’d been sitting right in front…
