It was around 9pm on a beautiful Wednesday evening, March 16, 2016, with spring just around the corner. I was chatting with my partner on whatsapp in the food court of one of Canada’s largest shopping malls - Square One. The chat was heavy, but positive - we are trying to reset a difficult four year old marriage. I had sat down to eat after being told earlier to stop taking photos. I like taking photos. This was of the outside of the mall, from the top of the multi-level parking lot connected to The Bay. The strong contrast between clouds, buildings, and sky created an encouraging atmosphere for some photography, albeit low light given my lens specs. I didn’t mind that the security guard told me to stop - I was satisfied as I had already taken some shots before he showed up.
As I shifted back and forth between the chat and food, a 14-17 year-old, mixed-ethnicity, pimple-faced, self-proclaimed Burger King ‘worker’ showed up, suggesting that I ‘try their new drink’ which consisted of unfinished burger, a pop drink, and probably a customary cesspool of his and his friends’ spit. At first, I thought I knew exactly what was going on - this was an act of aggression. I just didn’t have the energy to respond back in an aggressive way. I went through internalizing thoughts, such as attributing it to the black nail polish on my left pinky finger. I kept a content and neutral smile, continued to refuse with continued head shakes and nods as he insisted and asked "are you sure?” a few times.
As he realized that he wasn’t going to get a reaction out of me, he started to walk away towards a returning station, as his teenaged skater crew decided to vacate the premises and take their shenanigans elsewhere. It is then that I realized that it may have been a dare, with or without me being the target because of my specific physical properties or social behavior. Sure, it could be the case that the 1cm by 0.5cm of one painted pinky finger may have caused the group to become uncomfortable with their own sexuality, and hence or for some other reason (broken home), they decided to direct their anger at me in this passive aggressive way. Regardless of if it was because of me and my selfness, or at random, I was certain in recognizing anger in one of his buddies’ eyes. I held his gaze, until his lips turned into a frown and the bottom of his eyes moved upwards to create a squint. He broke the gaze. I wasn’t neutral at this point anymore either, returning a disappointed look. Just like that, I had let him know that I had won. They weren’t going to rob me of my peace, though.
I had immediately felt good about the way I handled the situation. He didn’t deserve words. I gave him too much with the head shake and nods. I could have been even more passive by looking away and ignoring him as soon as I realized what happened, instead of entertaining his insistence. If he decided to violate me physically, it would have been on camera, with a dozen witnesses nearby. I had no reason to fear the skinny little twerp. I benchpress 1.3 times my body weight, deadlift 2 times, and with some boxing training, I would have been fine in repelling any unwanted physical violence.
I felt sorry for him and his buddies - possibly products of broken homes, in which neglect and aggression have caused them to prove loyalty to each other through such recklessness towards each other and aggression towards others in society. Or, it could in fact be a phobia. I wasn’t presenting at all as female, with my traditionally masculine musculature visible through my blue V neck sweater and my 5-day old scruff. Perhaps it was indeed the 1cm by 0.5cm painted pinky fingernail that triggered their phobia. Even then, I blame their environment - the education system for taking so long to catch up (glad that Ontario finally did push through an update to the sex-ed curriculum), and their homes for passing-on such closed-mindedness to the newest generation.
I didn’t need revenge, for two reasons. First: as they walked away, I realized that all the explanations of this behavior were external to me. Though he was surely aware and responsible for what he was doing, society had failed him, and so he was just returning the favour. I didn’t want to be part of that narrative. Second: I could've cussed him off, smacked the drink down, or worse, tossed it at him; but, then he would have won, and I would become the aggressor. I’m glad I won, and so also I did not need revenge.
To the kid and his friends: I hope you find your way out of ignorance and I hope you get better acceptance and love than the kind you currently give each other.
