Contemplating Prejudice and Fear on Thanksgiving Day

(parental discretion advised – difficult topics)

I’ve been getting out to jog at dawn every morning this week, just like I said I would in my recent post about winter blues! Even Thanksgiving morning!

I stuck to my regular early morning schedule on Thanksgiving because I had things to do and places to go. John and I were heading to Texas for the long weekend. After jogging, my agenda was to get my truck loaded with my travel bags and drive down to Placitas, where he was waiting with the camper van.

Once out on my jogging trail, I realized that the first light of dawn was darker than normal because of cloud cover. I’m a bit nearsighted and was jogging without any corrective lenses. So it was dim and vague out there.

The second thing I realized was I was the only one on the trail. Usually there’s several joggers and dog-walkers around, hurrying to get out before the workday starts. But with most people not having to rush to work on Thanksgiving, they were apparently figuring their dogs could wait for their walk until it wasn’t quite so dark and freezing. If I were a big guy, maybe I would have enjoyed having the early morning trail to myself. But as a myopic, middle-aged female I was feeling vulnerable in the dim light.

Then I saw a man up ahead on the trail turn and look at me. I’ve never seen him before. A dark-skinned young male in a hoodie sweatshirt. I’m instantly on the alert. He moves into the bushes along the trail and crouches down out of sight. Oh god.

My mind is racing. I’ve got to turn around immediately, pick up my speed and get to the break in the fence where I can get into the subdivision. No, actually, I’ve just passed the fire station. Excellent. There’s EMT’s there 24/7. If I dash straight through the brush and cactus, I could be there in less than a minute. How do I get the EMT’s attention? Do fire stations have doorbells?

Oh wait. Is that a pitbull? Ok, good sign. A man with a dog is much less threatening than a man without a dog. And on a leash? That pitbull is leashed! Such relief! It’s not that I’m afraid of pitbulls. It’s that the type of owner who leashes their dogs is someone who generally observes social conventions (and will probably not leap out of bushes to attack middle aged women).

He’s got second dog! A cute long-haired black and white spaniel with a curly tail. Also leashed. I love spaniels, they’re such friendly dogs. Then the guy stands up and puts a neon green doggie poo bag into the trash can!

Now I’m thinking, Ooooh, look at that hot dude. This guy’s up early to walk his dogs. Poop scooping when it’s not even deposited on the trail. He’s a catch all right. Total. Marriage. Material.

As I cruise by with a slight nod and a mumbled “morning,” I realize that the spaniel has a bright pink leash. That’s a woman’s dog. This hot-looking guy is TAKEN. He’s out there at the crack of dawn walking her dog for her so she can sleep in on Thanksgiving morning. That’s exactly the sort of thing John does. What a perfect guy.

So now John knows why I insist that Rosie and Kira have pink and purple leashes. Because if it were up to John, our dogs would all just have black leashes, which would be much simpler than having to figure out which brightly-colored leash goes to which dog. But a guy with dogs on pink and purple leashes? HE’S NOT AVAILABLE. Sorry all you bitches, he’s mine.

It’s all about signaling, right?

Speaking of fear, prejudice, and signaling, let me digress and talk a moment about public restrooms. You know what I want? When I walk into a women’s restroom, I want everyone in there looking like they could plausibly be female. I don’t care what their chromosomes are, I don’t care what their hormones are, I don’t even care what’s in their pants. In fact, I really DON’T want to know what’s in their pants. I just don’t want to see a full beard. Just make a decent effort to make it seem like everything is as it should be. Signaling matters.

What if some perv dresses up as a women to prey on them? Yes, that could happen, but that’s always been possible throughout history. Being tolerant of trans issues would in no way increase the risk of that. Anyway what’s the likelihood of being attacked in a restroom?

Don’t we realize where women mostly get sexually assaulted? In their own homes by their own close friends and family members. Boyfriends. Spouses. Fathers. Grandfathers. Brothers. Uncles. What are we going do about that? For starters, we have to stop arguing about stupid things and start talking about things that matter.

I’m all for the #metoo movement, because as a society we need to talk about workplace harassment. And I’m really glad the Catholic church is no longer above the law. And we’re finally starting to admit that date rape is actually rape. But when is the last time any of us were in a comfortable, open, nuanced discussion about incest? Can we even read that word without wincing?

Why do we think we don’t know anyone who has experienced incest? Well, we do. I will guarantee we all know more than one. Probably several. Statistics are hard to come by because people don’t even talk about this to their own therapists, much less check the box on the medical intake form (and most medical intake forms don’t even ask), or respond to non-existent surveys.

Has anyone ever asked you if you experienced incest? Then how is society going to know? We’re not being counted. Even if some researcher somewhere got concerned enough to send a survey, then what? Who is going to leave that survey sitting around on the kitchen counter until they get around to filling it out, sticking a stamp on it and sending it in? Oh, that’s just mommy’s survey, no you can’t use it to make a paper airplane.

Do we think incest only happens to occasional publicity-seeking celebrities or random nut cases? The best studies say conservatively 1 in 10 women, probably higher. I’m not talking about some other country. I’m talking about middle class, educated, white Americans. Little girls, little boys, and adults too. So yes, we know them. We probably know a lot of them. Some of our coworkers, some of our neighbors. Friends we’ve known for years.

When is the last time anyone’s published a reasoned, thoughtful mainstream media article about incest? Until we start OPENLY talking about the sexual assault going on in middle class American homes, we have a long way to go yet for women’s – or anyone’s – equality.