Big Bad Fear!
My mother was going through some of her old papers the other day and she found this drawing that I made when I was a little girl. I don’t remember drawing this, I must have been six or seven years old when I did, but I do remember the event that I tried to capture.
I was in kindergarden when we moved into a new house. The four of us (my parents, my brother and I), as a family, only lived there for a short period of time before my parents separated. I have very few memories of that time. I do, however, remember waking up one night and finding a strange man standing at the end of my bed. He wore a long coat and a brown fedora. He held a pack of matched in his hands and told me he was going to burn the house down.
I ran to my parents room to tell them about the strange man who clearly had it out for me, but they assured me that it was just a dream. I spent the rest of the night in the warm confines of their tight embrace. Snug as a bug between my Mom and my Dad.
I all but forgot my adventure of the night before when the next morning my Dad and I walked downstairs to find our front door wide open.
Did I dream it? Probably. Does it feel like it really happened? Yes sir.
What does this all mean? Who knows…
Freud would probably have a field day with this one.
One thing for sure, it smells a lot like fear.
A Tangent That Smells a Lot Like a Rant
Ah yes, fear. A feeling as old as time.
I’m so fucking sick of fear.
I don’t watch the news because it’s just one big fear machine that distorts everyone’s hold on reality. It’s all so much bullshit.
Pretty much every person that identifies or has been socialized as a woman is taught to be afraid from the moment they are born. This fear of the strange man in our bedroom is instilled in us from a very young age and affects so many areas of our lives.
It regulates the times of the day when I walk alone or in what parts of the city. It regulates what I wear, what I carry with me and how I carry myself. I like to pat myself on the back and say that I don’t let fear change the way I live my life, that I say a big “fuck it” to the world at large and walk by myself when I want and that I don’t let fear interfere, but that would be an arrogant lie. Sure, I’ll take the walk by myself in the middle of the night, but I’ll most likely carry something with me for protection, I’ll walk fast and without making eye contact. For what? All in an effort to protect myself from rape, from assault. All things that are beyond my control.
Fear has done nothing to protect me. Nothing.
Fear is a weapon used against me.
Fuck you and fuck your fear.