Coming to Terms

I think people who know me would say I'm semi tough compared to the way I look. Maybe if I looked different you'd expect me to be this way, but I think people just expect me to be meek, so when I'm not it perhaps comes off as tough.

There are these things about yourself that you cling to. You both love it and hate it about yourself. This is one of mine. I've been told it since I was little.

Over the past few months though I think my tough, or whatever it should be called has gradually but severely decreased. I feel weak a lot.

This morning I started crying on the 1 train.

I was on my way to LI to celebrate Easter. Something I thought of calling in sick to. Considered wearing my pastel green pants and otherwise coifed Easter outfit and taking it to the church across the street from my apartment. Surround myself by people I'm supposed to be but am not. I had considered after church going to Zabars and treating myself to some Jewish food. Utterly not Easterly. Then maybe going to the Russian Baths with some friends who are in town. But I did not. And when I got outside I was glad that that was not the choice I had made. I saw these girls, coiffed, leaning into their boyfriends/ fiances/ husbands, one hand on his stomach, underneath his suit jacket, once hand on their Starbucks. Waiting for church to begin across the street. I was glad I was not going to be there. I was happy to see them smiling. I was. But glad I would not witness any more of it. Because last year I was them. A version of them. My own version of them. And I loved that. I thought the intention was to grown into different versions of that. And now I am not.

But it was a beautiful day and it made me happy that someone was in that world that I so crave to be back in. I was happy it was so beautiful out and I was happy to be wearing pants that fit me so nicely.

When I got to the subway station I consciencely thought "I'm glad I didn't call in sick to Easter." I walked down the steps and looked at the woman in the booth, pointed to my bags that could not fit through the turnstile and she said "Swipe, then go through the doors." I did, just in time to step on the train. And then I must have accidently pressed something or maybe she hadn't pressed the button yet because alarms starting going off. But the train was there and I was one foot on it and I wasn't going to go back- I did make a face, like "Oops, what the hell happened?". But I had my Metrocard in hand and I had swiped it, so whatever.

And then my bag was thrust forward which tipped my body over and into a pole. I looked behind me at what had happened and I saw this thuggish looking man and he said "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID! She's frontin', look at this bitch frontin."

I sat down and sort fo breathlessly held up my Metrocard. I couldn't speak though, it seemed like the back of my throat was closed. "Unlimited, I woudln't have....." but I dont' think it even came out. He had pushed me into a pole.

For those who don't know me I am small girl. I'm not even 5'2 and I'm not sure if I weigh more than a hundred pounds. I am just getting smaller. In several ways.

I looked around. Everyone looked straight ahead. I was kind of scared. I was alone and had no defense. My pepper spray was in my bag and although I wouldn't use it unless I had to, I wanted it. He started again. "She knows what she did. Don't make faces when you walk in. You know what you did. Don't act all like you don't"

I know what he thought I did. I know I did not want to cry. I was trying so hard not to. Trying not to give this guy any sort of satisfaction. A few months ago I don't think my throat would have done that. But now I feel weak. Defenseless. Like I cannot win any battles no matter what.

The gay couple next to me did not do anything. They did not look at me sympathetically. Did they not believe me? The thirty something man in the orange shirt across from me did not make eye contact with me. Even after the scary guy got off. Then this other thugish guy looked at me "Are you OK?" I thought he had been a cohort. Someone who thought I was "frontin'." "I'm OK. It's just....." my words stayed trapped in my throat, "weird."

And I started to cry. Right there on the 1 train. Silently. Clearly trying not to.

I'm still glad that I did not call in sick to Easter I think. But now I know. Something I don't know if I wanted to know. I've lost some of what I've clung to.

When I talked to my dad a few minutes later he said "That's what happens when you travel alone Helen."

A few months ago, on Christmas Eve I had a similar incident with my friend Jen at this station. (What's with the holidays and the 79th Street station?) Last time I kind of defended myself. Kind of. A few years ago some woman yelled at me on a train. I retorted something semi-witty, defending myself, but safely. That time I was not alone. My downstairs neighbor once threw a cigarette at me. I was freaked out but I defended myself safely again. One time a man grabbed my ass in front of the Port Authority. I followed him and defended myself. I got him arrested.

I was alone some of these times. But I was not alone. This time I was alone. Completely alone.

Easter is my favorite holiday. I was told by someone once, not long ago that I would never have to spend another holiday alone. But look at this. I didn't call in sick on Easter. As weak as I feel, I showed up. But some people have called in sick on me