TW: Sexual harassment
It was 70 degrees
Warm enough for bare arms, exposed shoulders.
I wear heavy snow pants, and a tank top to defend against the heat.
Goggles and helmet.
YOU COULD NOT SEE MY FACE
Yet still I feel your longing stare against my back, burning holes into my skull.
And as I turned to look at the perpetrator,
Why I am not surprised to see, gray hair, smug smile, a MAN who thinks he’s all that staring back at me.
He returned my glance with a wink, and a smile that showed that he was well aware I had no where to run.
I was taught by my mother, by my aunts , and cousins, by my fellow women.
Stay QUIET, head DOWN.
They can smell fear, they feed on it like the predators they are
the kind of fear that quickens your breathe, and tells you to run.
My only goal is now to find my way down the mountain as fast as I can, any previous plans are quickly abandon.
You follow, lurking not far behind, waiting, watching.
In a frantic mad dash down the slope, I get sloppy, catching my front edge falling in slow motion.
I know I’ve given him the opportunity he was waiting for.
As fast as I try to get up, I’ve lost my chance, and the skidding of skis behind let’s me know I’ve run out of time.
You speak, your voice as sweet as honey dripping razor blades, and poison, raising the hair on my neck as you approach.
He is the hunter, and I am the prey, the prized catch.
I can’t hear a word he says, the panic rising in my throat, blocks all sound. I am violently snapped back to reality, as your hand rests on my shoulder.
You tell me I need to turn more, improve my technique, but we both he does not care about the way I snowboard.
Nodding silently agreeing my only hope of escape. And escape I do, the adrenaline pushing me faster.
His calls follow me down the mountain, my lack of response quickly whittling away at your patience.
You call out that the weather is almost as pretty as me, loud enough for the people who ski along side me to hear.
Why is no one helping?
How can I be surrounded by people yet so alone?
My shoulders SHOULD NOT be an invitation to gape, and whistle.
My collar bone SHOULD NOT be the reason your fingers graze my waist lingering longer than they should.
I AM FOURTEEN, this is not the first time this will not be the last.
It may not be all men, but it is almost all women. Don’t teach our women to tolerate, educate our men not be the problem.
It was 70 degrees
Warm enough for bare arms, exposed shoulders.
I wear heavy snow pants, and a tank top to defend against the heat.
Goggles and helmet.
YOU COULD NOT SEE MY FACE
Yet still I feel your longing stare against my back, burning holes into my skull.
And as I turned to look at the perpetrator,
Why I am not surprised to see, gray hair, smug smile, a MAN who thinks he’s all that staring back at me.
He returned my glance with a wink, and a smile that showed that he was well aware I had no where to run.
I was taught by my mother, by my aunts , and cousins, by my fellow women.
Stay QUIET, head DOWN.
They can smell fear, they feed on it like the predators they are
the kind of fear that quickens your breathe, and tells you to run.
My only goal is now to find my way down the mountain as fast as I can, any previous plans are quickly abandon.
You follow, lurking not far behind, waiting, watching.
In a frantic mad dash down the slope, I get sloppy, catching my front edge falling in slow motion.
I know I’ve given him the opportunity he was waiting for.
As fast as I try to get up, I’ve lost my chance, and the skidding of skis behind let’s me know I’ve run out of time.
You speak, your voice as sweet as honey dripping razor blades, and poison, raising the hair on my neck as you approach.
He is the hunter, and I am the prey, the prized catch.
I can’t hear a word he says, the panic rising in my throat, blocks all sound. I am violently snapped back to reality, as your hand rests on my shoulder.
You tell me I need to turn more, improve my technique, but we both he does not care about the way I snowboard.
Nodding silently agreeing my only hope of escape. And escape I do, the adrenaline pushing me faster.
His calls follow me down the mountain, my lack of response quickly whittling away at your patience.
You call out that the weather is almost as pretty as me, loud enough for the people who ski along side me to hear.
Why is no one helping?
How can I be surrounded by people yet so alone?
My shoulders SHOULD NOT be an invitation to gape, and whistle.
My collar bone SHOULD NOT be the reason your fingers graze my waist lingering longer than they should.
I AM FOURTEEN, this is not the first time this will not be the last.
It may not be all men, but it is almost all women. Don’t teach our women to tolerate, educate our men not be the problem.
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Stargirl
Sep 13, 2021
You have so perfectly captured what sexual harassment is like. And you’re right. it. Freaking. Sucks. Every single thing about it is horrible. So thank you for writing about it, thank you for putting this out in the world. Do you mind if I sprout off of this? It’s something I feel very strongly about and it’s nice to know that someone else does too :)
We try to fix the world with rock and iron---if only we were not all glass people living in glass houses