Tuesday, November 19, 1996
HARRASSMENT:
Depths of trauma too much for cold, bureaucratic copsBy Silvia
Morelos
I guess you can never really be safe anywhere, can you?
This is a thought that I’ve tried all of my life to absolutely
not succumb to, although it’s becoming much more of a reality for
me now. I feel like I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Let
me explain. I was harassed on the bus to school the other day.
It was a somewhat bright, sunny Sunday afternoon around 3 or 4
o’clock. I remember seeing a guy in the seat in front of me as the
overcrowded bus made its way down Santa Monica Boulevard, and I
remember how uneasy I was. The reason for my discomfort was due to
how the guy kept turning to the girl seated next to him, and he
looked her up-and-down, up-and-down, over and over, thoroughly and
deliberately. It sent chills down my spine.
Anyway, she eventually got off the bus. As it made its way
around the bus terminal on Hilgard Avenue, I couldn’t help but
notice that the guy had seated himself across the way from me, and
he was now looking at me. No, actually he kept LEERING. I became
extremely uncomfortable and annoyed, and my palms became suddenly
sweaty. I have a bad temperament (one that I’m still learning to
tame as it has, admittedly, gotten me into trouble in the past),
yet I said nothing. But my face sure as hell expressed everything I
felt. And he saw it.
"You gotta problem?" he stormed.
"Do you have a STARING PROBLEM?!?" I countered.
Oh man, the guy then went off on me, telling me how I was
"nothin’ ta look at," blah, blah, blah. He then followed behind me
up the stairs, toward the parking lot behind Murphy Hall. I was too
shaken up to think straight.
As we made our way up the stairs (it seemed forever) I could not
help my big mouth, and I started cussing the guy out right back,
telling him to get the hell away from me. I felt threatened, but I
was also enraged by the helplessness I felt at having to just "walk
away." To top it off, out of nowhere he aims toward me and punches
my bag! So help me GAWD I stopped, because I felt a swarm of rage
and other pent-up feelings that I had thought I’d numbed out of my
system a LONG time ago. It thus took everything in my power not to
punch him right back. And I surprised myself tremendously because I
didn’t. My "sensible" side kicked in, and I realized that the guy
woulda beaten my almighty smart mouth offa me.
I did NOT want him to take away a part of myself, and thus I
HATED having to resort to running away or walking away quickly
because it would denote my fear and his power over me.
But the guy still kept cursing at me. I again blurted something
out without looking back, and next thing I know he crosses my way,
and comes around two steps IN FRONT OF ME. I stopped and glared at
him again. I guess I must have had my fists clenched or something
because he reacted to it, daring me to "go ahead" as I would go
"flying head first" down the stairs if he wanted.
I fumed, again held my hands back, and walked around him up the
last few steps. I told him he had better watch his back (I know,
again not "smart"), and he then told me I "better watch his
(backpack)," as if he would not hesitate to hit me with it.
Unbelievably, the guy still followed me across the grass near
Schoenberg Hall until I got to Kinsey. As more people came into
full view he abruptly made a right heading toward the direction of
Bunche Hall.
For a moment, I was unsure how to react. As I entered Powell
library, I pondered as to whether or not the incident merited being
reported. But, I figured that the guy might be a student here, so I
walked over to the "security" guy in the library and I told him
what had just happened.
He then called someone and had me speak to an officer. The first
thing that the officer asked me is whether or not the guy
threatened me. I hesitated.
How the hell can you explain to a cop, much less another guy,
how threatened I felt from the start as that psycho leered at me on
the bus? Is that a "threat," or is it a threat only when there is
actual physical contact? I thought this over, but I begrudgingly
ended up telling the cop that I was threatened once I got off the
bus. He then asked me to come down to the station near the
turnaround on Westwood Plaza. I made my way down there, but there
was no one in the office once I got there!
Although I had calmed my nerves down considerably by that point,
they started up again. I banged on the front window and the door a
couple of times, but there was no response. And I had just spoken
to someone five or 10 minutes prior to my arriving there, OK? I
waited.
And waited. I saw someone’s head bobbing around in back as I
tried leaning across the table/window that led into the room. I had
already dialed an extension to speak with someone once, and the
second time I did I asked the guy if they were always so goddamn
efficient. The guy on the line mumbled an apology, stated that
there should have been someone there by now and that he’d dial
again. At one point I saw a lady cop come out, not looking my way,
and pick something up AND GO RIGHT BACK TO WHATEVER THE HELL HOLE
SHE CAME FROM. I waited who knows how many minutes more, and then I
took off!
Ironically, as I made my way around to the sidewalk off the path
that led into the station, someone actually came out and asked me
if I WANTED TO FILE A REPORT. I told him to go to hell as at that
point I was too "mixed up" to even speak coherently. Back at
Powell, I acquired a migraine headache and could not concentrate
the rest of the evening. I ended up crying like an idiot at the
fountain next to the Medical Center later that night. Then I went
home on the bus and crashed. I was exhausted and bummed because I
did not getta chance to study for any of my three midterms that I
had for the upcoming week. I guess now I realize why I resorted to
writing to Viewpoint. It’s a way to vent my feelings about this
matter, the inability of the cops to respond not only efficiently
but even to begin to RESPOND.
It took a lot for me to go down to the station  as much as
it took for me to hold back from punching that guy. He stirred
something in me that was overwhelming. I KNOW what it’s like to get
beaten up, even by a guy. I experienced beatings along with other
horrors with my "mother" ever since I was old enough to walk; I
grew numb to the blows after a while, and consequently I got myself
into abusive patterns in relationships, getting put down, yelled
at, beaten up at home, in public, etc. And I’m not about to sit
here and hypocritically blame it all on another person solely,
because I sure as hell gave it my two cents worth! I used to hit,
too, and I hit with all of my might since I was ANGRY.
To cut it short, that guy who harassed me on the bus stirred up
years and years of physical, emotional and other inner flashbacks.
I used to hit back and even started hitting FIRST. But I didn’t do
it this time. I didn’t. And I didn’t do it, even while fighting the
thought of him getting away with his "intimidation." I did not want
to not do something for me again, as I failed to protect me INside
when I was little.
And I TRIED to actually help myself out the right ways by trying
to validate my feelings and going down to that goddamn police
station, to no avail. I TRIED.
But when the "right" system fails, what then, huh? What the
hell? WHAT then?