Never Walked In High Heels

I’ve stepped out of the Ethiopian restaurant in Elephant and Castle absolutely stuffed. Night had fallen by the time we had finished our meal and we dragged our overfull belies to the bus stop. The first bus passes us by even though we attempt to flag him down like mad. There are 12 minutes to wait in between the buses at this particular stop.

And then I see a homeless man who makes eye contact with me and I instinctively know that there is going to be trouble. He crosses the road carrying his bag and wants to kiss me on the lips. “Just one kiss.” And like always, I am stunned and speechless. He attempts to make a move. It is my friend’s 19 year old boyfriend who responds, shoving him backwards and making fierce eye contact with a strong “No” attached to it. “What? I just anted to kiss her, it’s not like I was going to hurt her.” “No.” he says again firmly. The homeless man shuffles off, yelling curses at Alex.

After we get home, I am in the shower and I feel filthy. Not because a homeless guy laid hands on me and attempted to kiss me, but rather I realize that it was the first time in my life that anyone had mentioned that this sort of behavior is wrong.

Perhaps I should explain. People, absolute strangers, try to kiss me all the time. While I was living in Chicago, homeless men and women would invade my space wanting to know my name or where I was going. And I was taught to accept it. Actually, taught is most likely the wrong word. But, to avoid commotion, I let it happen. This, combined with the fact that no one else knew what to do in such a situation meant that I was kissed by strangers a lot. Or followed while being asked annoying questions. My space is constantly invaded and I am used to it.

There comes a point in everyone’s life when people tell you something is wrong which always bothered you but you never thought to put an end to it, and all of a sudden you feel ashamed for your naïveté. You didn’t know that such behavior was a violation. You never thought that you were vulnerable and it was entirely possible to become a victim so easily. And then the fact that it took a 19 year old to know despite his immaturity what was appropriate and what was not, simply rocks the foundation of your world. You no longer feel like an adult. You no longer feel like you can take on the rest of society and live safely. The world suddenly gets very big and very dark. After this particular incident I felt helpless for several days, even in fear, and then like most things, it wore off and I moved on.

It still happens occasionally. How old the person is or what they’re wearing doesn’t seem to matter. I can usually spot trouble when it meets me on the street and I try to avoid it as much as possible. Sometimes even crossing the street myself after they have crossed it and are approaching me. Some areas seem less affected by these people. Some areas more. Elephant and Castle is particularly a place where I am on my guard. But sometimes I have no idea it’s going to happen. And as much as I want to cry out that my body is not public property, it still catches me off guard, particularly in the nice areas of town.

One night I was with two friends heading over to the Tesco Trafalgar Square. It was a late evening and one of them had just gotten out of a show that he was starring in. On our way over to the store, the two others decided that they didn’t need anything and would head home shortly thereafter. Then I saw him, another person who simply went into our cluster and tried to break into our conversation and touch me. I got out of our group and went inside Tesco while it was still lit. My friends followed me and I acted as though nothing was wrong. Then I made eye contact with one of them. “Can you stay here for a minute until he leaves? I don’t trust him.” “Yes, I will stay. Just go about your business.” So I picked up some sushi and milk, a combination that is most likely my own but being easy to get to as I realized I could get out of the store sooner, and went to the checkout extremely aware of my surroundings. Pretty soon after I was in line, one of my friends came over to me and said “We’re leaving now.” I looked over to him and said, “Is he gone?” “Yes” he said, “he’s gone.”