There’re several overwrought, convoluted thoughts plaguing my brain, so it’s time to dish.
I’ll get the seemingly hypocritical stuff out of the way first. Admittedly, I am a sexual being. Yes, I am. I know what I want, when I want it, and nine times out of ten will go after it. I am proactive. I push boundaries and limitations. Down to take the bull by the horns and go for a ride (innuendo intended, sue me).
Despite all that, I am not an object.
This weekend, as I was walking up to my apartment after a very delightful night out, I was followed to my door. Followed the entire way. It was such a strange, scary, and unexpected situation, and I didn’t know how to properly react. I sought out help but with no avail. I couldn’t call the police because the language barrier would get neither side anywhere. I couldn’t go fetch the security guard because I was sure the man would continue to follow me. Seeing no way out, I decided to engage in a wild screaming bout with this drunken baboon in the middle of my hallway. It was all I had to call attention to myself. He yelled loads at me, but I wouldn’t know how to decipher any of it since I barely know Korean. I did pick up his several mentions of “RUSSIAN, RUSSIAN, RUSSIAN!” To which I replied, “IM NOT RUSSIAN!” (It wasn’t until after that I learned that Koreans tend to assume that foreigners are from Russia, which apparently houses prositutes. Go figure) After several minutes of the scandal, my neighbor popped his head out looking utterly confused. I was distressed and the man red hot. My neighbor joined in the aggressive banter and managed to get the drunker to go away. He hugged me, tried to make sure I was okay. My neighbor, a blessing I’ll never be able to requite.
I’m also unduly grateful for the comfort my friends Brodie and Meaghan offered that night.
Lately, I’ve been devoted to The Guys We Fucked, an anti-slut shaming podcast. These women, Corinne and Krystyna, along with Lena Dunham, have become the pinnacles of my developing persona. They understand that girls are taught to be smart but not too smart. That we shouldn’t tell girls they can be anything they want to be, not because they aren’t capable, but because they wouldn’t have thought otherwise on their own. That it’s okay to be sexual. That I don’t have to feel ashamed or guilty or perceive myself as a nymphomaniac just because I have an affinity for sexual indulgence. That I shouldn’t be overly weary of what I wear or how I display my body because, afterall, I have what everyone else has, and we’re all the same being.