1
First off, I possess nothing but respect for those who engage in sex work. Truthfully, I I have considered dabbling with it in the past. Just decided it probably wasn’t for me.
Anyway, I am currently homeless. Some nights, I crash at a friend’s house or a hotel/motel, if I can afford it. Last night, however, I had to sleep in my car. I’ve done this before; however, it’s not so much “sleep” as it is idle waiting, dead tired but on constant alert. It’s not a pleasant experience, especially if you are a young unaccompanied woman.
I tried to find a private enough spot that was still public property since I can’t get caught trespassing. I stationed my car off the side of the road near a residential neighborhood. There was a 7/11, an auto body shop, and a small park within walking distance. I felt secure enough knowing that I was within public view, so maybe not as susceptible to random crime or an attack.
I invited my friend to hang out earlier in the night. He and I took a walk, then smoked and drank in the park. I felt infinitely more comfortable with him there because male presence is, unfortunately, perhaps the best way to protect yourself as a lone female in a strange area.
My friend took off around 7 pm after I assured him I was safe. He strongly suggested against staying in my car, so I lied and said I would book a hotel room for the night. The truth was, I was too tired and inebriated, and just wanted to get at least a bit of rest as quickly as possible. Plus, I’m trying to save as much money as can right now.
I stopped at the 7/11 for some water and ibuprofen. A few people were in the store, but the street was otherwise empty. Or so I thought. I started to walk back to my car, in which I had set up curtains for privacy. A man suddenly appeared from the garage of the body shop, completely blocking my path on the sidewalk. He was probably in his late thirties, medium build, bearded, and reeked of tobacco.
Startled, I tried to avoid eye contact with this strange man. He then said, “Hey, I noticed you around earlier and wanted to see if you’re up for any fun tonight.” He was astonishingly matter-of-fact and calm. I was taken aback, scared, and disappointed. I thought, “Is he really trying to proposition me?” Then, immediately, “Not again...”
I looked him dead in the eyes and told him, “No thank you,” then made a 180 and headed back to the 7/11 since I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him see me get in that car. I stalled inside the store for as long as possible, until the coast was clear.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Once I sobered up enough to be able to drive, I hightailed it out of there without looking back. I’m going to be even more vigilant today.
Unfortunately, this is not the first time a man has mistaken me for a sex worker and outright propositioned me in public. During the eight years I lived in New York, it happened at least a dozen times that I can remember. I’ve identified some common elements to each of these experiences: it happens either late at night or very early in the morning, I am intoxicated, I am alone (one notable exception being me and a female friend late at night in a strange Queens neighborhood), and I am either visibly distressed or otherwise agitated in some way.
What’s interesting is that it used to happen more frequently when I was at a higher weight. But every time, it is an utterly uncomfortable and degrading experience. Mind you, it’s not that I find sex work demeaning in itself. Rather, I find it deplorable the way men (sorry, but it’s usually men) use it to exert dominance and intimidation over others, particularly those who are vulnerable. It makes me so utterly sick and distraught, knowing that every time I go out, others may objectify me. Or worse, subject me to violence. Is it too much to ask to just be a formless shape, floating about the universe?
- kitte.n and CrazyStarvingArtist like this
- Like This
No comments:
Post a Comment