by Maria Chaves
Two and a half months ago, I started my first job at a sushi place 10 minutes from my home.
As an introvert, I tried to find my place in the fast-paced environment. I was one of three women who worked there. One was an assistant manager. The other was a cashier. We didn’t always work together. Most shifts, I found myself working with men. It wasn’t a problem. They were courteous and extremely helpful, not to mention highly entertaining.
At the end of the day, I would leave work at 9:30 p.m., with a bag of food to take home for dinner. It was always a relief to step out and feel the cool night air on my face. It held promises of a well-deserved sleep.
Then came the fear. My car was always parked on the other side of the parking lot. In the afternoon, walking alone didn’t seem as problematic. But in the darkness the lot transformed into a terrifying expanse.
I didn’t want to be afraid of walking at night, especially across a parking lot. I saw the other guys from work leave. They walked with such ease; I envied them. It seemed ridiculous that once I was alone and in the dark, I could be in danger.
I was scared because I was a woman.
It was just a parking lot. Yet, it had a piece of me that I hadn’t fully understood. After my coming of age, the tide shifted. In other words, my perspective on men changed.
What I wore and how I presented myself had become an important part of my everyday thought process. My dismay came from the idea that it was my responsibility to ensure I wouldn’t trigger men into wanting to attack me.
I decided to adapt and change my behavior to not stand out.
This was a wrong decision. It wasn’t parking lots that I feared. It was the idea that society had instilled within me: see all men as potential predators and all my actions as potential triggers for these men.
That’s when I realized I had to change. I didn’t want to be afraid of my own shadow. I couldn’t control everything that happened in my environment, but I could control how I reacted to them.
The next time I found myself outside my workplace, food in hand, ready to go home and sleep, I made sure not to hesitate. A smooth stretch of asphalt lay before me, something that I walked on to get to the other side. Just a parking lot. Nothing more.
