Patriarchy in my neighbourhood
Even in 2022.
The earlier drafts of this introduction were mainly me convincing myself that I didn’t understand something, that I was obviously missing something, that the issue was mine, and isn’t that so fitting?
Both incidents described below are happening on micro-level frequencies, but women hear them so clearly. And way too often.
“Man of the house” is still prevalent
The neighbour that shares our big, beautiful majestic red maple tree was telling me how we will probably have to trim it and track where the roots are going. This tree has been my only measure of time during the pandemic, as it stands sentry in front of my office window.
I am fond of this tree (emotionally invested, really). As he continues to talk about what should be done, I am looking up to the top of the tree that has weathered many storms. And then he says he will have to consult my husband.
Sorry, what now?!
What more is there to discuss? Are we not actually presently having “the” conversation?
Is he under the impression that my husband is friends with an arborist?
We own this house together. Do I need to bring the deed to the next condo meeting?
My husband hasn’t been secretly voted as the head of this household. (OR has he been, and that’s actually what happens at a condo association meeting?)
We aren’t free to carry on
About a week later, I was comparing walking routes with another neighbour. He suggested I walk along the river. I wistfully told him I wouldn’t dream of walking by the tree-lined river pathway without a friend.
“This is a safe neighbourhood,” he scoffed.
As if I dared insult the place we both lived.
We may pass by the same stores and take in the same scenery, but he and I walk in different neighbourhoods. We live different experiences.
My face was undoubtedly expressing my innermost thoughts, as my face frequently does. Yet, he persisted, “, especially during broad daylight,”.
Hmm, would he like to reassure Ardeth Wood as to the safety of the area in which she was murdered? While cycling? In broad daylight?
Yes, gentlemen, we are still on that. It shook us all.
He has the gall to scoff at me after a string of recent incidents (~7) involving men harassing women in this neighbourhood went duly reported without conclusions. Reports were of men parked outside their house watching them, men following women out on their walks, and men beckoning women to the car for directions while exposing themselves. Young girls were being followed walking from home to friends’ homes in this safe neighbourhood.
Women of all ages were reporting harassment daily for two weeks, demonstrating that nowhere is “safe”.
Carefully detailed posts describing the different vehicles involved in this new random spree of assaults appeared in neighbourhood Facebook groups from women looking out for other women. Someone had to.
These incidents didn’t wait till dark.
Short of one incident of a car repeatedly driving past a woman watering her flowers past sundown, the rest of the incidents took place in the afternoon or early evening.
Still daylight. On very busy streets.
Because those two factors are supposed to be our methods of prevention. We are told to play it safe. Not to put ourselves in harmful situations. To be smart. Despite placing restrictions on ourselves, we know we can’t entirely prevent attacks.
We are cautious, but we don’t have that control.
I am so bored with my walking routes. How I wish I could ditch the concrete jungle and savour the treed areas overlooking the water, as my neighbour suggested. I envy his freedom. I resent his arrogance.
