Analysis of Power

 I do not think for a minute that men who harass women do so out of sheer physical attraction.  It goes deeper than that.   What's on the surface is skimming the skin but the essence is in the heart.  Pleasure in conquest, the utter triumph of the hunt is at the crux of all power based needs.  An aging Lothario out to prove to himself his prowess in acquisition is the elixir that drives the hunt.  The only problem is, the prey walks into a trap unknowingly and by then, it is too late.

I met this man in church.  After my husband passed away in 2017, I decided to be more involved in church.  I go to mass after work almost everyday except Thursdays for the 6:30 pm service.  I would always sit at the back 2 seater pew close to the main doors.  Often, after a  grueling 10.5 hour work schedule I am dead tired and long to be out of church as soon as service is over.

It was in one of those innocent routine day that life took me to a turn less traveled.  He would always go to church with his wife, Korean I thought, a diminutive lady with a quiet dignity about her.  He would take a beeline to the people sitting in front of me - a bevy of ladies who would greet him enthusiastically with warmth and openness.  I thought nothing of it.  I always come across to people as aloof, withdrawn, an easy smile is a rare occasion, a church mouse really.  I am one of those people you would pass by and not notice.

I am a true introvert.  I like my own company, don't like too much social gaiety and interaction, and keep my thoughts guarded and my lips tightly sealed in public.  I don't make unnecessary chit chat.  Unless you have become a close friend, you will never know who I really am.

Perfect conquest, a mirror image of the trivialized Asian persona - the meek, quiet, passive concubine.  It wasn't long before he began with easy frequency to stop over to see his church friends sitting in front of me and then he would turn his attention to me.  Just being friendly, or so it seemed.  But I wasn't his friend.  He was just a church goer like me.  I didn't even ask for his or his wife's name.  I wasn't keen on starting any friendships.  They were associates and nothing more.

During those days when I am sitting alone in the back pew, he would saunter towards me making small talk until the queries become more and more personal.  What is your name?  Who lives with you in the house?  He said he knows where I live because when he and his wife go to church, they would drive past my house and see me working in the yard.  The questions become incessant.  Are you married?  Don't you want to get married?  When are you going to get married?  Boy if I were not married, I would ran after you.  

These cringeworthy words make me want to puke but I wasn't in my elements.  When I am in church, my behavior should reflect the reverence that the place of worship deserves.  So I kept these things to myself.  There were times when I am waiting in the confessional line, he would come up to me as close as he can and ask me how I am doing.  Since I am waiting to confess my sins, do you think I would act rudely to get this man to move away from my personal space, and then have to confess this behavior as being unkind to another person?

In fact, that was how I dealt with the situation - showing extraordinary restraint, tolerating this kind of unwanted behavior, changing my own actions to justify that this man's behavior is part of a disease process - dementia as someone told me to explain away the harassment component of the behavior.  It makes it more my responsibility to change the outcomes of my interactions with him.  Maybe, I needed to be more understanding.  

But then the creepiness began to seep in little by little.  Nudging me with little touches here and there on my arm as if that was now his right to do since in his mind we are thoroughly acquainted.  At one time, I shouted at him to not touch me and then felt compelled to confess this as my own failure to be kind to a person with dementia.  When a person's behavior is attributed to a disease process, it shifts the onus, blame, and personal responsibility away from the offending person. For a long time, I felt the guilt and self-doubt.  Maybe, I should not have shouted at him...and in church at that.  In time, I began to wonder if the dementia was another ruse, a cover-up, a convenient lie to explain away awful behavior into socially, palatable, morsels of excuses.

The conquest became more exciting for this man as my next defense was to avoid him.  He would be waiting outside if I did not make a quick getaway.  Or worse, he would be there waiting in the parking lot, wanting me to stop and talk to him.  On one occasion, he blocked my exit from the church and was asking me, "are you mad at me?"  I told him to stop bothering me.  He was beginning not just to annoy me but to truly make me feel less safe and vulnerable.  After all, this man knows where I live and I don't even know his name.  He has an unfair advantage.  It wasn't until my daughter moved back in the house and I am no longer alone that I felt safe in my own home.

Clearly, this man likes the chase.  I assume, the pleasure of seeing me cornered in places of worship that should invite peace and tranquility must bring back the heady rush of youth that is slowly dissipating in his aging body.  No accountability from authorities, an easy prey who would not even squeak, a silent victim prone to bouts of guilt for failing at the virtues of understanding and wisdom.  What a perfect, easy prey.

But like the sermon I heard today, that which you do not respect (like fire) can kill you.