A different kind of predator / what's in a smile.

On This American Life a week or two ago they talked about the effects of testosterone on both males and females. One of the interviewees offered a particularly interesting perspective, as he had formerly been a woman. He began the transformation by taking large doses of testosterone. He talked about how, prior to his transformation, he (she) could look at a woman and feel attracted, appreciate her appearance, and move on. These thoughts changed markedly with high doses of the hormone. He felt crazed sexual, almost pornographic, urges towards women that before he would probably just have noticed and appreciated. Another particularly interesting insight was how he had to learn to navigate the world, for the first time, as a man. This is interesting because most men work through this throughout childhood and adolescence. He was entering this as an adult. He noted that when walking down the street men would now veer into his space and almost body-check him without provocation.

I'm reminded of this because today I deal with the issue of navigating the world as a woman. In the past few months I have been the subject of what many feminists would consider sexual harassment. Now, I don't think I've provoked any of these actions, and to be sure, none of them have been extreme, but certainly uncomfortable. I also made it known as soon as any lines were crossed. Three men in particular have approached me with conversation, not unexpectedly, as they are acquaintances of one sort or another. And the conversation took a turn for the worse in all cases. By this I mean, that in at least two of these cases the men have suggested and said outright in different words that they would make a great man for me.

Today I said hello to our upstairs neighbor who I have never felt comfortable with. He seemed positive and so as he was getting into a car with a young attractive woman I smiled at him to acknowledge his existence, then I walked inside.

A few minutes later, he took his trash out with the heavy entry door banging behind him. I saw him walk out and down the steps of the porch, as our kitchen window overlooks the porch, and I was cooking a meal for the bike trip. I drew the shades for some privacy. On his way back in, he stuck his head under the crack at the bottom of the shades and said 'hello'.

The conversation through the window started out well enough. It wasn't comfortable, but technically he wasn't doing anything too inappropriate. Then he became noticeably different, like he had taken something that was starting to kick in.

"You know, I see this and that, and I see you and your boyfriend and some of your lady friends that you have over sometimes, and it makes me happy, and I wish I had a group of friends like you" then he proceeded to talk trash about our housemate, calling him all sorts of very inappropriate names.

Then he said: "your fine"

"excuse me? That's inappropriate" I warned him, in a serious voice, yet he kept going, eventually I was hot, beautiful, and he could make me happy and he would never treat me wrong; he went on and on. Then he asked me straight up:

"What do I have to do be good enough for you?"

He wasn't being sneaky, our whole conversation had been fairly philosophical up to this point, as he was asking how he could be a better person. Then he launched into how I had smiled at him when he was in his sister's car. He implied that I smiled in a way that suggested I might be interested. I can assure you I gave him the I'm-only-smiling-to-acknowledge-you-are-alive smile. There was no warmth in it. Eventually I became so uncomfortable that I said:

I'm going to go do some other things done, but I'll talk to you later. And walked away from the window, secured and locked the front door, closed all the windows and went into the back bedroom. By his verbal reply to my leaving and locking the door, I knew he understood. He then knocked on the door. Three times. Then I saw his silhouette stagger up the stairs to his apartment.

This man is young, fit, and probably weighs at least twice what I weigh. And he scares me. A lot. I was afraid to leave the house; I closed all the blinds so he can't see us anymore. Then when I did leave, I snuck out, and didn't come back until I knew Andrew would be home.

Navigating the world as a man or a woman, everyone learns to imbed within their actions a kind of defense mechanism to help them deal with these types of situations. But I'm tired of having to fortify my defense mechanisms to deal with the man-predator. I'm frustrated and angry. I'm tired of having to tell people outright that they are being inappropriate multiple times. And, as a woman it is not just about feeling uncomfortable, it is about feeling physically threatened. About knowing that this man could do whatever he wanted to me if he so desired, because he is that much bigger and stronger than I. It is about being afraid to be at home with the blinds open, so the sun can shine through. It is about being afraid of being watched by someone who lives in the same house. It is about feeling powerless to say what I really think to him out of fear of provoking a reaction and suffering the consequences.