Stop Being Friendly...
It's perfectly acceptable to have a genuine Bitchface. Just ask me. It's my fucking stat quo.
Bitchfaces, when we’re approached by strange men outside of our homes, what are we doing?
Are we smiling and listening to their fucking nonsense and drivel, or are we immediately aborting the conversation and being firm and assertive with our body language?
Your answer had better be yes to the latter. I’m not fucking around today.
So, after this fucking nonsense in Memphis, number one story up this morning is about a woman in Washington, who was in her car. An unknown male, unknown to both law enforcement because he refuses to give his name, and to the woman who is also the victim (surprise!) in this story, approaches her car.
He asks for water. She gives him a bottle of water. He then gets into her car without asking, and pulls a knife on her. He steals the car, with her in it. As they’re taking a corner, she jumps out with him gunning it.
Cops catch him, but he won’t give his name. If he has done it before, it was before mandatory felony reporting because you have to be printed if you’re a felon so you can be logged in NCIC. Don’t ask me how I know.
My point is this:
Guy in Memphis would have come up as a bad dude, sure, because he was just printed before the prison let him walk out. Guy in Washington, nope, but still just as bad of a dude.
Look, ladies, I know we all love to think that our Facebook neighbor groups, and the Nextdoor app, and the mugshot flyer is going to tell us everything we need to know to stay out of the mix.
They’re absolutely not even close to doing that.
I’m getting pretty tired of hearing women say dumb shit like, “oh, I have pepper spray on my keychain”. Um. Okay. What in the actual fuck do you think that’s going to do?
I know I’ve told y’all about Black Jesus. It’s the pepper spray that the DOC uses on you in prison. I have scars on both of my arms from this shit burning my skin. You can’t get Black Jesus on the street.
Even hit with Black Jesus, there were a couple of tussels I got into that didn’t end when that canister blew. It is still possible to fight in a cloud of that shit, and it’s 20 times stronger than pepper spray.
Do not rely on your tiny can of spray to save your life. I would laugh at someone who sprayed me with pepper spray. Seriously, like, pay attention bitch, I’m bionic because of the DOC.
My point?
What are we doing today to discourage shit like this fuckery above from happening? What is your body language telling these fucking mongrels when you’re outside of your home?
Let me tell y’all, I still parade around in tall ass stilettos, that scenery will never change. Here is what has changed, though. The look on my face. The look on my face says I will fucking murder you and dispose of you in 9 separate dumpsters in The Bay area if you fuck with me.
I don’t care who approaches me or what they’re trying to say, it doesn’t get any friendlier. If someone is within arm’s reach, I create more space so they aren’t. I called it my 6-foot rule when I was bartending, and it applies to everything in life. There is no reason for anyone to be inside of my 6-foot space.
Zero. None. I’m not expecting nor asking for a hug. You’re not a dog, therefore, you have no business touching me. Get out of my space, and give me back my 6 feet.
I am both of these things, bitchy and solo, because of shit just like these women I’m telling you about.
I want it to be very evident that not only am I going to fight, there is a good chance I’m going to fuck you up.
I am not a victim. Today, tomorrow, Thursday next week, the answer is still no. Don’t fucking touch me, don’t ask me to smile, don’t tell me your stupid fucking stories like I care. Don’t address me because I don’t know you.
Random fucking men in public who approach me find out quickly how much of a bitch I truly am.
This needs to be your policy. Stop feeling like you have to be friendly to these fucking assbags. You don’t. Not even close. I would even venture to say that they need to see your bitchiest face because of their audacity.
You don’t know me, don’t address me. Don’t try to stand too close and intimidate me, don’t try to ask me questions in public and embarrass me, don’t do the shit men constantly do to us to make us feel obligated to talk and pressured to comply.
I will not comply. And if we want to humiliate, partna, I can get right on that. God knows you do not want to get me started. Bitch I’ll peel your fucking skin off with the shit I call you. My profanity is up for awards in creative writing. Fuck with me.
Today, we need to end this fucking nonsense. If you’re approached by a strange man, show your fucking ass. Do not continue to allow these assholes to take us and do God knows what with us.
This needs to stop now. I’m going to say it again. Concealed carry. Learn self-defense. Stop complying. Change your body language. Not later. Right fucking now.
Don’t give another one of these assholes the opportunity. Stand up for yourself, and let’s fucking make it through tomorrow literally in one piece.
Fuck.
Q.
I appreciate y'all not only reading but taking the time to discuss. Let me add this. It's raining. I'm in my office. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love the rain. It soothes me. My desk faces the window, on the premise when I moved in here I would spend time looking at the outside world, even if PTSD won't allow me to be in it.
The blinds are open. As soon as the rain stops I will close them. Because this is life for me, as a woman alone. I know I'll blow a fucking hole in your ass if you come into this house, and that's after Puffin chews on you. But I don't invite it. I don't give someone the opportunity to be working on a house in the neighborhood and see I'm alone. Or delivering something, or living across the street, or wherever the person who has this evil in them should be when I happen to catch his eye.
I can and will defend myself. But I also preemptively take measures. And right now, the rain is dying down. I have to close the blinds. I cannot take those chances. If something happened, would it be my fault? Absolutely not, I'm simply enjoying the rain. But I know, as a woman in this world, among these bad men, I must always be alert, ready, prepared. I can never relax.
This is as close as it gets.
In America we are raised to be conciliatory, but this is especially true in my home state. In Washington, you are supposed to be charitable. They prey on us because we have the exact opposite ethic from New York: nobody will walk by your ass laying in the gutter bleeding and be like "nope, not my problem". It's how Ted Bundy was able to operate. We're not naïve, we're taught to be compassionate above all, even when it could put us in danger - better that than leaving a poor person out in the cold. He asked for water because most people have extra water and granola bars or something in their cars, to help take care of the homeless. We're all mostly like this. Just, I'm smart enough not to keep my doors open.
But this happened just north of Portland, Oregon, where the feelgoods bullshit hits its peak. Portlandia has a very stringent "be nice, be helpful" ethic that floats over the border to Vancouver and surrounding areas. They're an oasis of Canadian ethics in the middle of the American capitalist hellscape, which is nice to visit, but when you're raised here, you forget that America is full of violent, weapon toting, flag waving, methed out psychos. I feel bad for her...
In Washington, stories like ours are aberrant enough to elicit shock from the locals, if that explains anything.