Chivalry and the Rimjob I Never Wanted
Image by Flickr user Paintlab, used under Creative Commons License
I read the news today oh boy
Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire
And though the holes were rather small
They had to count them all
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.
I'd love to turn you on...
[from A Day in the Life, by John Lennon and Paul McCartney]
If Lennon and McCartney had substituted the holes that lurk on the thoroughfares of the greater Chicagoland area, they would not need 4,000. Our potholes are large. They are deep. And they want to cause you pain, both physical and financial.
I had taken special precautions to avoid these gapings mouths that maw at the wheels of passing vehicles. I resigned myself to longer commutes and traveled secondary roads uninfested by these gravel-lined monsters. But weariness and the approaching hour of midnight found me taking a road I should not have travelled. Without warning the car shuddered, the lights on the digital dashboard flashed on and off, and a scream escaped from the right fender. Slowly I steered the wounded car into a empty parking lot.
In the yellowish glare of the sodium vapor light, I saw that the rim had shrugged off the the deflated tire. Even worse, the rim itself was cracked, perhaps beyond repair. No use in even trying to wrestle with the dreaded spare tire.
There in the cold night in a deserted parking lot, chivalry made not one, but two appearances. A car of battle cruiser proportions, vibrating with the familiar beat of rap music, pulled up next to me. Darkened windows slid down to reveal four young men who were probably violating curfew. They asked if I needed help? No, I explained, the wheel and the tire were beyond help. Was I sure? Did I have a spare? Yes, I was sure. I thanked them and was both sorry and relieved to watch them drive away.
I started to get inside the car to call a cab and a tow truck, when I saw a parka-bundled man walking towards me. He yelled, "You need help, lady?" When I replied, "No thanks. I'm going to call a tow truck," he offered, "Maybe I can help. Where's your spare?" I did not want to open the trunk of the car with a stranger at my elbow, or hand over my lug wrench, that weaker cousin of the menacing tire iron. Again I demurred, telling my would be rescuer that all I had was a pitiful lug wrench that could never summon the torque needed to budge the pneumatically tightened lugs. He stared at me, then huffed with wounded pride, "Okay. Suit yourself." He turned and retraced his steps across the parking lot.
As with other invitations received from men during my life, these offers of help were appreciated in the same moment they were refused. The discomfort of cold and weariness could not make me forget the stories of people who disappear without a trace until their remains are found by a curious dog during the spring thaw. One does not reach the age of fifty by relying upon the kindness of strangers.
I thought about how eager these men were to offer help to a woman they did not know. Since I am writing this post without having suffered any injury, other than literal and figurative cold feet, I will assume that their intentions were not sinister. I doubt that I was the first woman to refuse their offers of help or invitations to dance. Yet I wonder if they realized that caution and fear were the reasons for this and other refusals, not their worthiness or lack of it.
But if, according to Melissa Fine's concept of the Missing Discourse of Desire, "sex for women is articulated in terms of danger, accommodation, exploitation, reproduction, satisfaction of their partners," perhaps it isn't surprising that these men were so eager to help. And resentful when I did not accept their help.
I prefer to think that they were just nice guys and hopefully not too offended by my self-sufficiency. But maybe there is more to this beneath the surface. Just like one of those godawful potholes.
It's sad isn't it, that once we are in what looks to be the 'damsel in distress' position, we cast a cynical eye over any men who offer help. I'm not saying we shouldn't - I am well aware of the risks of being alone with a stranger in these sort of situations - but it saddens me that we have to be cautious, that we have learnt to be cynical.
I know for sure that I get a lot more help in summer (when I am wearing less) than in winter, as my 'worthiness' is obviously deemed higher then. And faced with this experience I can't help but narrow my eyes and prepare a rebuttal when I am approached by a man who appears to think I am in distress by virtue of being female and not wearing very much.
in distress by virtue of being female and not wearing very much.
[... If Hannah Arendt defined the human condition, then your phrase, Virago, aptly describes the female condition. Which is why the mere act of dressing and choosing what to wear is a source of ambivalence for women. On one hand we want to adorn ourselves and delight in our sexuality. On the other hand, we know that the choice to wear too much make-up or too little clothing will serve as a marker for others to judge us unfavorably. For that reason, the invisibility that women experience as we grow older can be a blessing. Yes, age can be a burqa, but it can also be a blessing when one has felt violated by ogling or wolf-whistles.
As for being cynical, yes it is sad. And men have every reason to be cynical as well, as they are victims of more than half of the incidents of violent crime (such as robbery and physical assault). And yet, if I saw a man struggling with a flat tire, I would be reluctant to help him for fear that it could be a ruse designed to put me offguard. Even sadder. Thank you, Virago. -- Kochanie]
I think I'm tired. I got as far as "You need help lady?" and wondered how anyone could mistake figleaf for a lady ;)
I've twice been in a similar situation. The first time was on a deserted country road and my reaction was the same as yours: I was worried but felt bad about being worried.
The second time was on a quiet but populated road, in torrential rain. I would have been delighted if *anyone* would have stopped to help. The only person who offered any assistance was a very elderly woman who called me from her apartment window to ask if I'd like to come in and use her phone. I was dripping wet by this time. Next day a man at work stopped me to apologise for not having helped. I hadn't noticed him going by in the rain, he was one of many. At least he was honest.
["...how anyone could mistake figleaf for a lady." You made me laugh, A, and I thank you for commenting even though you are tired. "I was worried but felt bad about being worried" -- yes, that pretty much sums up how I felt on those occasions. When my job required that I travel alone, I was very cautious as to where I would go for an evening meal or if I would go jogging or take an evening walk. Men need to exercise caution as well, but my male colleagues did not have those same concerns.
For example, in one post Figleaf reminisced about his years as a "wandering wastrel" and sleeping in an abandoned barn. The only woman I know who slept in an abandoned barn was a political refugee who, along with her husband and child, was hiding during a political revolution. I do not want to make the erroneous assumption that one sex has it easier than the other. However, the men that I personally know are not as concerned about safety as women, nor have the men been subject to the harassment experienced by the women.
One question: when you were marooned in the torrential rain (changing a flat tire?), were you in England of In France? I don't know if it makes any difference, but I am curious. Thank you again, A. -- Kochanie]
Kochanie, I was in England, though now that I think about it, I was driving a French car. It wasn't a flat, the car wouldn't start. It was a little old 2CV, as idiosyncratic at getting me anywhere as it looked.
Among younger men at least, I think there's a high level of awareness that women are more likely to see a strange man at night as a threat, rather than as a helper or rescuer. At least my male students are acutely aware about it, and it makes them sad and frustrated - not because it keeps them from getting laid, but because it feels lousy to be suspected of ill will as the default.
And yet, as you said Kochanie, if we don't have a high index of suspicion, we're likely to become victims. The guys know this, and they understand it. But they still hate it.
[I've noticed that as well, Sungold, that younger men are more aware of the uneasiness felt by women in similar instances. When we moved to our current address, my husband went to a neighbor's house to introduce himself and ask some general questions about the neighborhood. When he returned he told me he was miffed because the neighbor, who was a divorced woman living alone, would not open the door. I explained to him that if I was home alone I probably wouldn't open the door either, and it had nothing to do with him but everything to do with her sense of safety. I would be interested in hearing your thoughts as to why younger men seem more attuned to the safety concerns of women. Thanks. -- Kochanie]
Hi, I started to comment earlier but my computer has been acting real buggy. It makes me sad, too. I generally trust people and take things at face value but I should probably be more careful. A man I didn't know once changed a tire for me (I could have done it but didn't want to) and he didn't ask for anything in return. Last year I gave a jump start to a man I didn't know who was stranded and I did it because I wanted to feel good about helping someone which is no small thing. At the time I realized I did it for entirely selfish reasons, it's nice to feel good about helping someone, you know? I hope that most people who offer help are doing it to be nice, but I don't know if that's true. I don't want to live in fear. On the other hand, I don't live in Chicago and late at night is kind of scary. I'm glad you're ok, Kochanie.
[Thanks, sugarmag. I'm ok, just waiting to hear how much it will cost to replace the rim. :-( I agree, it is a good feeling to help someone, but the deed does not always feel so good from the recipient's point of view. On the other hand, our desire to be the good Samaritan can be manipulated by criminals. In order to help, we put down our guard and get closer to a stranger than we normally would, which is what the would be thief or assailant wants. All this does make me sad because it makes us so uncomfortable in one another's company. I think this must be the hardest thing about being a parent: to prepare your child to move about the world safely you have to show them that the world can be very unsafe. Thanks again. -- Kochanie]
Personally I believe this whole women-are-in-more-stranger-danger thing is overblown. Actually, this isn't so much a personal belief, as something I believe based on research into empirical evidence, backed up by my own personal experiences.
Don't believe me? Go look up the stats for yourself. The CDC has a whole bunch of data breaking down the crime stats by type of crime, gender of victim, and relationship between victim and perp.
If you look at this data, you'll see that we women really need to be more careful about trusting our friends and families. The stranger danger is dwarfed by the danger from those we know. Meanwhile, men really do need to be more careful out there, they're in a lot more stranger danger than we are!
Which is not to say that I wouldn't be cautious, in the situation described. But I'm also not nearly as fearful. I've done stuff just like figleaf describes from his wild traveling years, and had no problems whatsoever.
Did you see the news article last summer about the little boy who was lost in the Utah wilderness for days? When they found him, it turned out he had seen the searchers, heard them calling, and hidden from them because he'd been so thoroughly inculcated with the whole stranger danger meme?
[Oh I *totally* agree with the fetishization of stranger-danger, Elizilla. (I either read or heard in lecture sometime recently that the biggest in-home safety risk, period, for women and children is domestic partners, and I actually thought I'd posted about it Al... but it doesn't show up when I Google myself.) Anyway, that said I still think the evidence is pretty clear that street prostitutes -- who admittedly might still be on the streets in some other subsistance capacity even if they weren't prostitutes -- are at very high risk of coersive situational violence, some of which (particularly police and pimp extortion, johns punching and running, simple mugging for cash) would unquestionably be mitigated by legalization. Oh, and finally, just to be clear, while my primary motivation for legalization is to benefit sex workers at the extreme low end that doesn't mean I don't think it should be legal elsewhere. I just don't think enough emphasis is put on actually *helping* instead of herding, rescuing, or otherwise operating on low-end prostitutes as if they weren't people. --fl]
I am posting my reply to elizilla's comment and figleaf's response as a separate comment.
elizilla stated:
I agree with you, elizilla, about the greater threat for women coming from friends and family than strangers. One report adroitly summed it this way (if I recall correctly):
And yes, figleaf you did have a post on violence by intimate partners. Perhaps (ahem!) you are not Googling yourself properly. I think the post you are referring to is here: Intimate partner murder.
There are updated statistics that further corroborate this finding (the latest statistics at the CDC were for 2005). In December 2007 the Bureau of Justice Statistics issued the 2006 results from the National Crime Victimization Survey, which indicated that 70% of the female victims of violence knew their attackers. A pdf version of the report and a discussion of the new methodology is available at the site of RAINN, The Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network. Click here
The same NCVS statistics indicate that 50% of male victims knew their attackers, with 47% were victimized by strangers. (Btw, I would be interested in hearing your thoughts -- elizilla and fl -- as to the reasons why men are more likely to be attacked by strangers.)
If you have traveled solo across country as a wandering wastrel, elizilla, I am glad to hear it and would love to hear more about it. Traveling solo is one of my goals and I better do it before infirmity sets it.
Finally...figleaf, I know you are extremely busy, probably sleep-deprived and have been posting almost nonstop on the Spitzer debacle and the legalization of prostitution. But I was confused when I read these words in your response to elizilla:
Hey, fl, I'm not sure what you mean by "some other subsistence capacity," but the reason I was in that parking lot at midnight was due to a flat tire.;-) However, if I decided to change careers at the venerable age of 55, I would not be ashamed to say so. I may be cautious, but not ashamed.
Thank you both, elizilla and fl, for your comments.
The stats you post show that men are in more stranger danger, but they don't convey the extent of the difference. Not only are male murder victims more likely to be killed by strangers, men are also about four times more likely to be murdered in the first place. If 47% of male murder victims are killed by strangers, to women's 30%, and men are murdered four times as often, then men are more than six times as likely to be murdered by strangers, as women are. (And three times as likely to be murdered by people they know!)
Why do I think this is?
1. Men are less cautious in the first place. They go into dangerous places alone, where women will either stay out of that dangerous place, or find someone to go with them so they're not alone there.
2. Men perpetrate a lot more crimes of all sorts, and being a criminal is dangerous in and of itself. (Kinda like being a prostitute - you lose the protection of the law.)
3. The rest of society doesn't look out for men like it does women.
An example: On the college campus in the town where I live, they have something called "SafeWalk". If a woman has to walk someplace on campus after dark, she can call SafeWalk and they will dispatch someone to walk with her. SafeWalk is staffed by volunteers. Both men and women can volunteer for SafeWalk. Women volunteers are sent out in pairs, while men are sent out alone.
And yes, I have traveled solo across the country a number of times, most recently in June of 2007. I'd prefer to remain anonymous as a commenter here, but your software is asking for my email address; I assume you can see that, right? Well, my personal, non-anonymous website, is exactly what you might guess it to be based on that email address. I haven't updated it much since the late 1990s, but it's got a lot of my earlier travel stories on it.
As I have gotten older, more stable, and less broke, I've been less likely to sleep on the ground on the side of the road somewhere and more likely to spend the money for a few creature comforts, like motel beds! But I do still travel solo or with chance-met strangers, and being less broke has allowed me to extend my travels to some more exotic places, beyond the USA and Canada.
I encourage you to travel, Kochanie! You will enjoy it, and you'll find that it's a whole lot less scary than you think. When you go, I recommend engaging with the locals. Talk to strangers, and take people up on at least some of their invitations and offers! There's a certain danger in this, of course, but it's really no more dangerous than engaging with people in your hometown, and it makes the travel much more real. If you're going to isolate yourself out there, you might as well stay home.
You'd be most welcome to stay here if your travels bring you this way.