As you know, I am obsessed with Fringe lately. And, for the most part, it does a fantastic job at portraying women. I appreciate that the main female character, even though she is often in perilous situations, kicks butt and does not rely on some dude to save her (she’s the one doing the saving.)
But.
Last night I was watching an episode where a creepy science guy was lying in wait to grab a woman in her own home, and her first reaction was to say, plaintively, “don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me.”
I call shenanigans.
Although I don’t know exactly how I would react in a situation like that, I have been some similar situations, and I would never allow the assailant to see me as that vulnerable. And I can’t believe that would be the reaction of most women. Whether they try to run or whatever, lamely pleading would not be on the agenda.
(I double-checked, the episode was written by dudes.)
Because, the thing is, a situation like that would cause one to switch to survival mode. Like most women, I’ve thought about what I’d do if a strange man was in my house without my permission. I would go with my strengths – my loud-ass voice, and profanity (it has worked before) – acting a little bit crazy works too, but you’ve got to mean it. Like – he might kill me if I do that, but at least I’ll go out fighting. I would make a stand, and I would fight. And the first thing out of my mouth would be, “What in the @#%$%@ are you doing in my house? Who in the @#%$%@ are you. Get the @#%$%@ out.” With escalating volumes and whatnot.
Yes. This is what women think about.
Of course, in my day-to-day life I am not always in alert mode. But in a moment, I can snap right into it. If I walk down a lonely street, day or night, I constantly survey the area and assess threats. If I get into my car in a dark parking lot, the first thing I do is to lock my doors, just in case.
Guys, keep this in mind.
When I was living in Boston, I saw a guy in the train station, and he said hi. I didn’t recognize him at first, and I was curt to him. Come to find out, I worked with him, and he was pissed I was not “nice”. It was after 11 p.m. Look, dude I was just being careful. And frankly, I don’t owe you “nice.” I owe myself “safety” and for that, I will not engage with strange men on the train.
There is a whole thing about patriarchy and stuff I could talk about here, where women are expected to be “nice” and be “pretty” because that’s the way the mens like it. No, that’s wrong, it’s the way the mens EXPECT it. Whatevs.
So anyway, if a creepy scientist breaks into my house and wants to use me for one of his nefarious experiments, rest assured, he will feel the sharp side of my tongue. And it is laden with f-bombs.
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