ON SEXISM AND SELF-PRESERVATION

PC: amazon.com

We were a cluster of stranded pedestrians anxious to get home. Darkness had now fully ceiled the sky above us and, as usual by that time of the evening, finding a commercial bike was as easy as finding an incorruptible Nigerian politician.

When I eventually got one (no, not an incorruptible politician) and called out my destination, a middle-aged man also jumped forward. He appeared to be heading towards my area too, and was getting ready to join me on the bike. 

What made him think it was okay to assume I'd let him, a male stranger, ride with me? His presumptuousness irritated me. But again, I remembered the unspoken code of humanity: to forget race, gender, and all other dividing identities and render assistance when that was all that really mattered. We were all stranded and since I was lucky to find a bike that night, it was only right that I'd also be kind enough to assist a neigbour to get home safely.

But no. I remembered all the times I had been sexually assaulted because I attached too much sentiment to the kumbaya twaddle; times when I thought familial bond should make some people not take advantage of me and my body and I was proven wrong again and again. I remembered that being kind to men had never stopped them from assaulting their female benefactors. In fact, what was the assurance that this one would not try to rub his groin against my buttocks while we journeyed on the bike? And seeing as it's hard to outsmart an accursed pervert, how was I sure he would not try to lean back against my bosom even I had him sit at my front?

I didn't know for sure that he would do all these, and even the bike man could not understand my hesitation, seeing as the other man offered to split the bike fare with me. Yet I declined, and instead offered for the man to go with the bike while I wait for another, no matter how long it'd take. But the foolish man haggled prices with the bike man so much that the latter decided to drop me off instead.  I hopped on the bike happily, knowing that I'd satisfied my conscience.  

I'm not sure, though, why I allowed myself feel guilty for declining to offer a man a lift because I was afraid he might assault me. In retrospect, I realize that all that dainty attempt to avoid the sexist tag was very silly. 

Women have been conditioned for so long to consider other people's feelings and opinions before their own comfort and safety. You know, now, I'd rather be rude than be a victim.

These days, I wear my 'sexism' with pride. Yes, I declined giving a stranded man a lift solely because of his gender. I wouldn't have hesitated even for a millisecond if it were a woman, and that's because all the times in my life I've been touched inappropriately, it was never by a woman. So if men begin to find themselves in disadvantaged situations as a result of women's wariness, then they must look inward. They are their own nemesis.

It's not that I worry about being tagged a misandrist or wicked feminist, though.

I'll only be too happy to make yet another T-shirt design out of the insults. My mission is to do all that is within my power to reduce my exposure to sexual predators...and you and I know their gender.