untitled (6/23)

Ahh, Saturday. It looks like Saturdays are going to be my pretty days- the ladies know what I mean. But this morning, instead of my luxurious hair and make up routine making me feel relaxed and refreshed, I was absolutely fired up.

I hadn't mentioned this before, but while I was at Prime Hook a refuge visitor made an inappropriate comment. Fred and I were doing those measurements on Tuesday, and at Prime Hook, there is always a solid handful of people lounging around the structures trying to catch blue crabs. As we were leaving one of these structures, a car pulled up and the men inside hopped out to ask some questions.

I've already mentioned the trouble the refuge is having in the community, and these men, seeing the logo on Fred's sleeve and truck asked us what was going to happen, what the refuge was going to do, whatever.

It was obvious they had been drinking, and the older gentleman that had been driving had a beer cozy and I could see a vaguely familiar logo peeping over the top. He even offered Fred a brew, who politely declined.

The other individual had been leaning against the car, interjecting with a few strong opinions throughout the exchange. My mother has taught me well in the way of the vibes, and the vibes he was throwing were giving me the creeps, so I stood there, smiling without participating in the conversation.

People like him are easy to spot, so when he introduced himself and shook hands with Fred, I didn't offer my own hand or name. Though when we left, he made a point to shake my hand. Then, complimenting me on my grip, he continued by making a comment that I wasn't particularly surprised or flattered by. As we walked away I heard the older man scold him and Fred asked me what he had said.

Not caring to repeat I threw my hands up, saying 'Nothing appropriate.' And when we climbed into the truck, I could see the gears turning in his head as he sat with the key in his hand. He asked of I was alright, and I was.

And I wondered this morning if it was sad to think I was almost used to it. I'm definitely used to expecting these sort of things, and when they happen, I'm always so throughly underwhelmed and unsurprised that I brush it off and file it away in my mental filing cabinet. This cabinet is adjacent to the one where I store the incidents related to my race.

So I've been mulling it over for a few days. I didn't say anything, because you can't give those types of people anything. Especially if they've had a few drinks. You tell them your name, they ask where you're from. You tell them that, and they'll ask where you're living now. You shake their hand, and they'll try to find a way to open that door. It wasn't worth my time to tell him not to speak to me that way, because fortunately, I'll never see him again.

So it's not the incident or the comment that's bothering me now, its the fact that I have to watch for these things. A man can go to work for years and never expect to get ogled. It's not the same for working women and that just makes me angry. Why is this dynamic acceptable?

Because it isn't. So now I'm fired up and it's just one more thing I have to fight for.