The other morning as my daughter prepared to go to a tutoring session I stopped her and said don’t get yourself abducted, okay?
She laughed, but I was serious, and quickly went through a checklist of how to avoid such an occurrence. She has heard it all before.
The main point is, of course, to avoid danger when possible. But in the event that she does find herself in a bad situation, it is critical that she knows what to do. In my opinion, this means that she needs permission to fight.
I’m worried for my daughter, and for other middle-class girls, because I think that some female children are socialized to lose their inherent instinct for self-preservation. My daughter less than most – she has fended off the standard annoying juvenile situations with vicious instinctual grace – but she will never have the indoctrination I received as a working class girl.
For awhile I thought that we had moved to a town that is inherently more aggressive than others, but over the last few months I’ve realized the danger I sense has more to do with the classic division between town and gown.
Living in Portland or Seattle or Olympia I knew the rules, and it was clear where I fit. That is no longer true, and a change of costume will not rectify the issue. When I walk across the lock bridge and a man with short hair and a mean dog approaches, there is no chance that we know each other, and every possibility that there will be a negative interaction, usually involving a sexual comment. By this I do not mean the odd random compliment, but rather something that is intended to frighten the recipient.
This sort of thing simply did not happen back home, no matter how I dressed. My instinct is reflexive: the person who dares try that game with me might imagine they are hard, but when they look me in the eye they usually know they made a poor choice.
I have access to a tremendous rage that most people inclined to casual harassment are not expecting to encounter. They’ve probably seen it in the eyes of their mother, sister, or girlfriend, but they never want to see it on the face of a stranger. People leave me alone because, honestly, I’m scary.
I know that lots of strong women get hurt, and I am aware that I may one day find my skills are not sufficient. People are raped and murdered all the time, and there is no magic incantation to fend off the risk.
But I need my daughter to know that she is powerful, that she can protect herself, that she can fight.