"We live in a very very fucked up world"
Yesterday I saw the most terrible thing a man could do to a woman. I had to see it. Over and over again. The only saving grace was the fact the room was so badly full of sunshine that it blurred the images of the screen in the room so some things were not visible. But I could hear her. The same female. First as a child and then as a woman, be violated. Over and over again. And then we saw. We saw everything. It was as if we were in another room. Tied up. Listening to what would be our fate. A part of me just froze. Like frost bite. Flesh that was part dead.
I feel so dark and so sad. The little one, the little girl who keeps being referred to as "The Chinese Toddler" passed. She was run over by two trucks, by two vans while people just watched her. Where was her kernel of hope? Where was her mother? She's gone now.
This morning I said a little prayer for her. A prayer to no supreme being. But just a prayer.
"Why is it that I am 20 and you are only 2? There were times that I wished in my life that I could donate my life to someone else. I would give you years. I would give you love and life. Why is it you were only 2? Why were you alone? Why did they let you die? I refuse to watch you die. I will not want you die. Please don't be crying somewhere alone. Be in loving, warm arms. Be somewhere where you have no body that can bleed or be crushed or destroyed. Be loved. Be somewhere in someone's tender embrace.
Why is it that I am 20 and you were only 2? The world was watching. We could not save you. I could not save you. I promise you this little one, if I ever see anybody, anyone--a child, a man or a woman or another living creature--I will do something. I promise you little one."
I cry for her mother. The highest price for negligence a parent can pay. You will never see your daughter again. She will never laugh. Never cry. Never smile. Never move. Never breathe a breath on earth again. That woman, that poor woman.
Why didn't anyone do anything? Don't tell me it is become rapid urbanization. Don't tell me it is because of the bystander effect. Why didn't anybody do anything?
All it would have taken is one person. One person and she would have been in the safety of someone's arms. She would have been screaming and crying, but she would be alive. So alive. And yes, the mother would have been horrified and misconstrue the actions as anything but heroic, at first. But she would have been alive.
Why are human beings so evil to one another? The things that human beings do to other human beings. I will never understand. And for what? Pleasure? Commodities? No amount of gold is worth a life lived here on earth.
The things that people do to terrorize other people.
It is one thing to be captured and you are male. It is another thing to be female. If you are male, you will be tortured before you die. But you will die. If you are female. If you are female. You will die first. And then they will resurrect you to kill you over and over and over again. What men do to women. What men to do men. To the "weak", the marginalized, the young and the old. What men believe they can do, because they are men.
That does not make you a man. Or a human being.
Strength, dominance, power, oppression. That does not make you a man. That makes you a non-human. You are not human.
If I even know what a human is. Or a man. Or a woman.
But I know I am a woman. Oh, how could I forget? How could I possibly forget when I am reminded I am woman when I leave the safety of my surroundings.
When I go to a club and all I want to do is dance with my friends in pretty clothes, but a man will come up behind me seize my arms and force me to hold them over my head while he gropes my waist and presses his penis against my back. I can feel it through his jeans. He pushes against me, over and over. And finally leaves. My back is to him the entire time. When he sees my face, his face contorts in disgust. I disgust him.
I am reminded I am a woman when I am chased in the dark across a parking lot with my friend. There are three young men and me and my friend. We reach for our umbrellas, brandishing them, but they keep coming. We walk faster. They match our speed. We run and they jog swiftly behind us. We go straight for a cop and stay within his eye sight. They slow down. But they keep coming.
When I get off the bus and a man pounds his palm against the window. Have I forgotten my parcels? No, once he commands my eyesight he makes a V with his fingers and then thrusts his tongue between.
When a man gropes for my hand on the bus and tries to sing to me about going back to the country of my ethnic origin. He insists in a broken tongue that he is superior to me. And that I am beautiful. I look like a porn category. Not a person.
When I am waiting for my friends, two young men try to accost me and one boasts that I am "beautiful." He grills me about what kind of Asian I am. I receive even more praise, because I apparently am the "right answer."
When I was young and I didn't understand, a ex-friend of mine would touch me. He told me that he liked me. And then that he loved me. I was afraid. My father and my mother were concerned. My friend's parents were concerned. They took me away from him. My friend threatened to use her fists so that we might be separated. He said awful things about my friends. He told me that I could be "beautiful" if I didn't have crooked teeth. If I didn't wear glasses. If I wore fashionable clothing. He meant, if I had straight white teeth. If I wore clothes that were form fitting instead of sneakers, baggy jeans and enormous sweatshirts. If I had perfect eyesight and nothing to obstruct me from showing off my almond shaped eyes doused in make up.
I am 20. I found my voice. I found what strength I did not realize I possessed. I am not friends with him anymore. I did things on my own time. I bought clothes when I wanted them. I still wear glasses, but only sometimes when I feel like it. I have contacts because I finally was not afraid to try them. I wear make up because I like it, but not because I need it. I am never alone when I go out and if men try to accost me or violate me, I am not alone when I stand up to them.
And if I should have a little girl one day. I will never let her out of my arms. She will always be within my sight.
No man will touch her. No man will touch me without my permission.
I will never let you out of my arms.
I feel so dark and so sad. The little one, the little girl who keeps being referred to as "The Chinese Toddler" passed. She was run over by two trucks, by two vans while people just watched her. Where was her kernel of hope? Where was her mother? She's gone now.
This morning I said a little prayer for her. A prayer to no supreme being. But just a prayer.
"Why is it that I am 20 and you are only 2? There were times that I wished in my life that I could donate my life to someone else. I would give you years. I would give you love and life. Why is it you were only 2? Why were you alone? Why did they let you die? I refuse to watch you die. I will not want you die. Please don't be crying somewhere alone. Be in loving, warm arms. Be somewhere where you have no body that can bleed or be crushed or destroyed. Be loved. Be somewhere in someone's tender embrace.
Why is it that I am 20 and you were only 2? The world was watching. We could not save you. I could not save you. I promise you this little one, if I ever see anybody, anyone--a child, a man or a woman or another living creature--I will do something. I promise you little one."
I cry for her mother. The highest price for negligence a parent can pay. You will never see your daughter again. She will never laugh. Never cry. Never smile. Never move. Never breathe a breath on earth again. That woman, that poor woman.
Why didn't anyone do anything? Don't tell me it is become rapid urbanization. Don't tell me it is because of the bystander effect. Why didn't anybody do anything?
All it would have taken is one person. One person and she would have been in the safety of someone's arms. She would have been screaming and crying, but she would be alive. So alive. And yes, the mother would have been horrified and misconstrue the actions as anything but heroic, at first. But she would have been alive.
Why are human beings so evil to one another? The things that human beings do to other human beings. I will never understand. And for what? Pleasure? Commodities? No amount of gold is worth a life lived here on earth.
The things that people do to terrorize other people.
It is one thing to be captured and you are male. It is another thing to be female. If you are male, you will be tortured before you die. But you will die. If you are female. If you are female. You will die first. And then they will resurrect you to kill you over and over and over again. What men do to women. What men to do men. To the "weak", the marginalized, the young and the old. What men believe they can do, because they are men.
That does not make you a man. Or a human being.
Strength, dominance, power, oppression. That does not make you a man. That makes you a non-human. You are not human.
If I even know what a human is. Or a man. Or a woman.
But I know I am a woman. Oh, how could I forget? How could I possibly forget when I am reminded I am woman when I leave the safety of my surroundings.
When I go to a club and all I want to do is dance with my friends in pretty clothes, but a man will come up behind me seize my arms and force me to hold them over my head while he gropes my waist and presses his penis against my back. I can feel it through his jeans. He pushes against me, over and over. And finally leaves. My back is to him the entire time. When he sees my face, his face contorts in disgust. I disgust him.
I am reminded I am a woman when I am chased in the dark across a parking lot with my friend. There are three young men and me and my friend. We reach for our umbrellas, brandishing them, but they keep coming. We walk faster. They match our speed. We run and they jog swiftly behind us. We go straight for a cop and stay within his eye sight. They slow down. But they keep coming.
When I get off the bus and a man pounds his palm against the window. Have I forgotten my parcels? No, once he commands my eyesight he makes a V with his fingers and then thrusts his tongue between.
When a man gropes for my hand on the bus and tries to sing to me about going back to the country of my ethnic origin. He insists in a broken tongue that he is superior to me. And that I am beautiful. I look like a porn category. Not a person.
When I am waiting for my friends, two young men try to accost me and one boasts that I am "beautiful." He grills me about what kind of Asian I am. I receive even more praise, because I apparently am the "right answer."
When I was young and I didn't understand, a ex-friend of mine would touch me. He told me that he liked me. And then that he loved me. I was afraid. My father and my mother were concerned. My friend's parents were concerned. They took me away from him. My friend threatened to use her fists so that we might be separated. He said awful things about my friends. He told me that I could be "beautiful" if I didn't have crooked teeth. If I didn't wear glasses. If I wore fashionable clothing. He meant, if I had straight white teeth. If I wore clothes that were form fitting instead of sneakers, baggy jeans and enormous sweatshirts. If I had perfect eyesight and nothing to obstruct me from showing off my almond shaped eyes doused in make up.
I am 20. I found my voice. I found what strength I did not realize I possessed. I am not friends with him anymore. I did things on my own time. I bought clothes when I wanted them. I still wear glasses, but only sometimes when I feel like it. I have contacts because I finally was not afraid to try them. I wear make up because I like it, but not because I need it. I am never alone when I go out and if men try to accost me or violate me, I am not alone when I stand up to them.
And if I should have a little girl one day. I will never let her out of my arms. She will always be within my sight.
No man will touch her. No man will touch me without my permission.
I will never let you out of my arms.
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