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Massively out of it this last while, barely awake, so that is where recent blogging has gone. Here’s a story about today.
Today on the bus I am reading The Tempest
- here is my favourite bit so far: “Hell is empty,/And all the devils are here!” I want to use it for a piece of social justice writing, but there’s no piece that works for it yet. And then there’s this:
Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
I love Shakespeare. I’ve never read The Tempest in full before. I am enjoying myself very much, and thinking how much easier early modern English is than the middle English I’ve been assigned for class lately -
and a man speaks loudly, moves backwards to where I am sitting, and bumps into my arm. And then bumps my elbow with his knee, and stays there. And bump bump bump. Soon I am wondering why he doesn’t move away, there is more space to stand where he could not be leaning into me. He turns and now his bag is on top of me. He moves again and I hunch over, leaning far towards the seat in front of me to avoid it. In the process, I bump the lady next to me. He gets off the bus. I apologise to the lady. ‘It’s not your fault. He was practically sitting on top of you, wasn’t he?’
Another man stands next to my seat. He bumps me. He pushes me forward like the last guy. The lady next to me says, ‘You’re not having a very good day, are you?’ She gets off the bus; ‘enjoy reading The Tempest!’ I wonder why I moved and let those men take up that space where I could have told them what’s what. Or, better, they could have moved aside, not treated me like a piece of furniture, been conscious of the space they take up like women are supposed to do. Why can’t. I just. Just like I can’t stomach asking people to stand up for me.
Hours later, waiting for my last piece of public transport for the day – I’d been on four buses and two trains before that, long day – there are people walking along the train station platform. On one side of me, many are walking along in front of the yellow line, even though there aren’t people in the way behind it. Maybe they like the danger. On the other side of me, people are lined up just behind the yellow line, meaning other people necessarily must walk beyond it to keep going. How selfish, just wanting to get a good seat on the train, risking people’s lives. Remembering now trying to find my ticket on the second bus, spending ages looking around my bag, stumbling around the front of the bus with open bag looking for it, no one says anything or offers to help. I found it where I’d left it as a bookmark in The Tempest, eventually.
Anyway. I am at the train station now, not too much longer before I can get home. ‘Please remain behind the yellow line,’ says the mysterious train station voice, and people keep crossing the boundary. One of the people stops and stands too close to me. He doesn’t seem to realise, or maybe he thinks I should move away so he can get precisely the spot he wants. I don’t think so, buddy. I stand exactly there until the train arrives and I can stare blankly in front of myself for a bit in exhaustion and then get The Tempest out again.
Did you see Penelope’s post about Iris Marion Young at Pondering Post-Feminism? It speaks to some of the body-space concerns you raise here.
Sometimes, just occupying space is exactly the right thing to do.
Thanks for passing that link along.
I have a massive book of poetry aimed at children I got for Christmas years ago, and that verse from The Tempest is in it. Shakespeare’s great. I currently have a few speechs from Merchant of Venice blue tacked to my bookcase for revision for an English exam, but they might just stay there after.
People can be jerky with public transport (you may have guessed). I hope you don’t have to put up with them too much.
A few days ago I read an article about new research that shows that changing to a ‘powerful’ posture has hormonal effects within the body very quickly – in other words, there are biological processes as well as psychological ones involved in making those who take up a lot of space feel powerful. (I can’t find the link now, of course!) When I read it, I thought about how women are conditioned to take up less space, to maintain accommodating postures, and also how children and many PWD and probably others I haven’t thought of also often cannot take up space in that way, or are perhaps unable to stand in a ‘powerful’ way. And then, of course, I thought about privilege. Like the privilege of being able to shove your bag in someone’s face and not even notice, or not even care (and is there a difference anyway?)
Anyway, that sounds like a crummy day. People just… sigh. I hope that you have some better, not so tiring-or-tired days soon.
Don’t beat yourself up for not fighting every battle every day. I always favoured the subtle elbow jab back myself, then I’d be a coward and pretend I hadn’t done it. But sometimes it worked.
Have been thinking about this a lot as well, lately. Specifically because as a larger-than-average woman I always feel subconsciously like I’m taking more than my fair share of space. So in public spaces I am constantly aware of where other people are and where they might want to go next so I don’t get in their way, even though many men of my size and smaller will happily take up double the amount of space I use. But then others don’t budge for me even when it’s obvious I need the space. I have trouble demanding it, also. But I need to get out of that mindset and just take the space I need!
I was at a gig last month where this guy was standing with his drink in that way where he swung his whole body from side to side every time he said something or made a joke, this full body swagger thing. Completely oblivious to the fact that he was in a crowd of tightly packed people with just as much right to be there. I was the unfortunate whose whole body was shoved by him every time he wanted to say something hilarious to his friends. My only possible response was to either a) make myself really small and cramp into an even smaller space or b) stand still and be shoved against repeatedly. So after some time of this I, feeling indignant, put out my elbow to about the distance I thought it was reasonable for me to claim (not very far) so the next time he swung a full half-metre out of his own body area, he got an elbow in the back! He turned around and looked askance at me like I was taking up more space than warranted. I certainly should have said something but he was clearly drinking and taking aggressive poses, so eventually I just moved away disgruntled. But it always seems to be that way, and it sucks.