Park Place | 12 February 2022

For females, parks are a great way to take in the sun, walk the dog, or get some exercise.  For men, they’re a dangerous, treacherous, and sometimes lethal public space.

BNR Response

I jogged through the marine layer, happy for the quiet.  As I entered the tunnel I was gripped by a momentary sensation of fear, tightness in my chest as the darkness covered my head, then hips, and finally calves.  Moments later, emerging into the orange morning light, I tried to shake off the tension between my shoulder blades.  I rolled my neck and threw a few jabs at the air, reminding myself that I was a stronger iteration than he who had barely survived an encounter here last Fall. 

I closed my eyes and reopened them, hoping to reset my mind like skipping past an unwanted image in a Disney ViewMaster.  No luck.  In the same moment, the two men running towards me were my assailants.  I shook my head vigorously and refocused, allowing reality to settle in, only to discover that they were clearly a coach and an athlete on a morning training run.  A dog was bolting towards me from the left, teeth bared and ears back.  No, the Doberman was chasing a frisbee, quick to turn and deliver it back to his human.  Feet shuffling behind me surely belonged to a larger man, ready to mug me in the daylight.  The owner of the feet was a pregnant woman struggling to hold a jogging pace.

I stopped, legs softening under me like unset jello.  I stumbled over to the grass and threw myself down, the sky above me spinning like a Tilt-a-Whirl of trees, shade, and fog.  And then the flaskback hit me head on: the panting.  The sound of my own running feet hitting the pavement.  The sweat stinging my eyes and the heckles of, “Hey, Pretty boy!” coming from all around me.  A blow from behind, men approaching from ahead, then the hits that kept coming.  I’d united strangers against a common enemy, they were prideful in their bigotry.

Once my heart calmed and the rushing in my ears relented, I sat up and tried to reconnect to reality.  I was safe.  I had healed.  I had persevered.  I had not only survived, I had thrived.  I tried to eschew resentment toward the single women running with their earbuds in, the droves doing yoga by the arboretum, the women meeting Bumble dates here for the safety of a sense of public space.

Most consider the threats that linger in dark alleys and unlit parking lots, but dismiss the dangers posed in the light of day if you’re the chosen target.