I always tell myself that in a really obvious, clear-cut scenario of harassment or tube-groping, I could be that hero who tells the attacker what-for. "Excuse me, sir, could you remove your penis from the vicinity of my buttocks please?" But somehow that undeniable situation never arises. (Har har.) Even now, I'm thinking, what if it wasn't his boner, but his hand? In his... pants? And if I'd turned round and given him an earful, I would have been the crazy shouting tube lady, and then we'd have continued to share extremely close proximity for the next ten minutes, with a whole carriageful of commuters studiously avoiding our eyes.
Which is, I suppose, the great attraction of busy public transport for the average groper: plausible deniability, and the safe assumption that your victim will be too embarrassed to challenge your behaviour. (S/he sure as heck can't find enough room to kick you in the baby-maker.)
***
In completely unrelated but much more cheery news, I think I'm in love with my boss. See, a year or so ago I got fined for having a heart condition. Literally! While I was lying on an operating table, floating merrily on morphine with extraneous bits of heart meat getting fried off by electricity and science, my boss was docking my pay for having the temerity to have a chronic illness.
But in glorious new job of joy and wonder, I sneezed once, and new boss said, "GET THEE HENCE! I will not tolerate germs in my office, go home and get better and do not darken my doorstep again until you feel well!" And for this fairly basic employment right, I am being charged... nothing at all. What with this and my immeasurably beautiful pay cheque I might be the only person in Britain getting rich in the third sector right now.
Yay! I have found your blog again. Weenerman brought to mind a situation one of my best friends got in last year after being frotted on the tube. She didn't notice until the dude got arrested at the next station and she too was taken to the police station and asked if she'd bear witness as he was a repeat offender. She agreed under duress, and in recognition of this was routinely humiliated by the prosecution at the trial. They accused her of making it up and questioned her motive. After she'd never wanted to make a fuss in the first place.
ReplyDeleteIt sounded ghastly and it made me realise, again, how vulnerable victims are in these situations.
Yay, you have found my blog again!
ReplyDeleteThat's freaking horrible, the poor thing. Yeah, it sometimes seems like there's no good way to deal with it - stay silent and feel horrible, challenge them and put yourself in danger, go the legal route and get villified. We need better options.