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poetobservationz · 7 years

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o brave new world

Trigger warning: This story involved sexual assault.

Hello dear friends and family-

You may or may not know that I have been absent for a moment, on this blog. The truth is, I have been trying to figure out exactly how to explain a startling incident that occurred just over two weeks ago to me.

Something I have always been very good at is seeing the best in a situation. Studying here in Prague has almost exclusively been positive, but there have been moments of strife: the ticket on the tram that was $40, and a trip to Poland being cancelled last minute, for example. Even within these moments of disappointment, there was a resounding vibration of “It will be over soon; enjoy every second”. This subtle song has maintained, of course, yet there are moments in every life where their best use is to remind you that the world is a bit meaner, a bit more difficult, and less safe than you previously believed. I suppose this is all part of my journey.

The story I am about to write, has been on my mind since it occurred. I was unsure if I should share it, but I decided it is important to show both sides of this magical, teaching experience abroad.

My first trip out of Prague since I got here was to Barcelona with my two best friends, Jackie and Althea. We were thrilled and allowed our “american smiles” out the entire bus ride on our way to the airport.

Jackie’s brother Joe and his boyfriend Andrew were there after a trip to Portugal, and even though we only got to spend the day with them when we arrived, meeting them was the perfect start to our trip. Our hostel, Centre Rambles, was in the Gothic Quarter and the area was beautiful. Andrew and Joe provided us with laughter, lunch, and exquisite company. Andrew and I got gelato which I nearly inhaled. The joy of the moment was entirely surreal. I was so happy. Barcelona was beautiful and not even our tiredness or blistered feet could stop us. When the sun started to head down, we walked back to our hostel and showed it to Andrew and Joe, before we said goodbye. They voiced weariness. The pictures were nothing like what the offered online. It was cheap, and that was all that mattered to us. I was not worried, nor did their carefully worded caution intimidate me; especially because it freaked Jackie and Althea out. Joe and Andrew were not trying to scare us, they just wanted us to be safe, of course, but their words put Althea and Jackie on edge. Suddenly, we all became aware of the decrepit surroundings. After saying goodbye to Joe and Andrew, we collapsed on our bunks. We decided we would look into other options, maybe, but first had to rest for a bit. Our day of sunshine, laughter, and walking had made us weary.

It was during this rest that one of our dorm roommates walked in. He was quiet so I said hello and I came to find out (in my broken french), that he was from Algeria. He seemed nice enough, and I was surprised to hear the slight resistance from Jackie and Althea. I actually was getting annoyed; their pessimism and realism bothered my unbending optimism and trust that all people are good. After we turned in for the night, I made it a point to chat with this guy from Algeria, in order to make my friends more comfortable. I thought that if they felt like we knew him, they’d feel safer. Perhaps, I even considered, if something bad were to happen, he might protect us. There were of course, other strangers in the room, but none who had been home yet. I tried to ask him why he was in Barcelona, and we did our best to communicate through the barriers. He showed me pictures of Algeria, his home, his favorite ocean. During our conversation, I was thinking about how you never know someone till you try. It all felt very human and good.

I could tell Jackie and Althea felt a bit better, but both were shy to converse with him. When I finally was ready to sleep, I closed my eyes, and felt him tap on my bed. I opened them to see him flashing his phone screen with more pictures of Algeria. I told him, “Sorry, no,” shaking my head “Dormir”, which is the verb to sleep in french. “Bon nuit!” I said, hoping he knew that I meant good night. He tried waking me up again about 30 seconds later. I repeated myself, and he left me alone. But it left a bad taste in my mouth.

At around 3 am, I woke up to him over me in bed. He was touching himself and breathing loudly, one hand on my body.

I gasped, and pulled my sheets tighter. My eyes squeezed shut, like a child who thinks they see a monster in their room under dark cover of night. I realized that this was, indeed, real life, and then couldn’t move. My body went into shock. My thinking became transcendent and I broke from reality for a moment. I wanted my mom.

After about ten or so minutes of this feeling, I was back in reality, and nothing about what I had woken up to had changed. He was still there. I was still completely stuck and afraid. I wish my reaction had been to fight, or scream, but it wasn’t. My reaction was to become immobilized and just let it happen. I was angry at him for waking me up to this, and angry at myself for not screaming. Or doing anything. I tried to fight my pause. I counted twenty minutes go by, trying to breath, wanting to move and open my eyes and kick and scream but unable to do so. So I counted. I felt my will come back, and protested with what I could manage: leg movements and opening my eyes.

He did not stop his action, but moved off of me and onto the floor where he continued to touch himself.

I curled into a ball and held myself trying to stay quiet, afraid that he may do something worse if I didn’t. I wondered if maybe my mechanism to not fight had saved me in some way, and was worried that maybe he would act if I was crying too loudly. The places my mind went were so bizarre. I know that. I was in survival mode. After about ten minutes of crying, I came to my senses. I tried to wake Althea and Jackie up by calling them. At this point the guy had moved back into bed and was pretending to be asleep. Their phones vibrated on their beds noisily, yet it took a couple tries to wake just Jackie up. I think they thought it was their alarms, and for a moment I smiled as I heard them roll over ignoring it. Finally, Jackie was awake, jumping out of bed at the sight of my message and coming over to me to hug me. She woke Althea up, and they gathered all of our stuff to go.

A note about those two girls: Althea and Jackie did exactly what I needed them too in the moment. They made me feel so safe in that moment, and for the rest of the weekend, and still do, too. Both were ablaze with anger, shock, confusion and their own fear and pain from the incident. Althea, a women, gender and sexuality studies major, (and international relations) and Jackie, a psychology major had both done their fair share of work on these kinds of subjects, and of course, as women, had their own experiences. Their worst fear had been made real. And they were brave, strong, beautifully fearless women in that moment. They took very good care of me.

We fled in the night and walked around for 2 hours looking for somewhere else to sleep. Even though I had just seen a darker side of humanity, I was presented with other opportunities to restore my love of people. While walking around, we stopped in a classy looking Hostel, where a kind man invited us to sit and use the wifi to look for a place to stay, because he had nothing available. He had no idea what we had just gone through but his civilized humanity made me cry. I was so much in awe of the highs and lows of the day I had just begun. The hostel would not give us our money back. Althea and Jackie talked to the woman at the front desk, I stayed back from fear. This is the account Jackie shared with the Hostel association, from their encounter:

“We came back to the hostel around 7 or 8am and a staff member was at the front desk, ready for our arrival. We explained what had happened and asked for our money back. She immediately started to respond to us in a rude and condescending manner. She said, “Is it my fault that this man was jerking off in the room?” Then she says, “This isn’t the United States.” After a while of going back and forth with her, we asked for the managers number. She gave us an email that she claimed was the manager’s email, groups@centerrambles, this email does not exist…”

We tried to contact the police and were unable to find an english speaker, then tried calling the embassy who referred us to the police.So we found no resolution. Yet.But we are working on it.We ended up staying at an AirBnB, and had a lovely host who was a professor at a local university. He had other students staying with him in his other spare room. They were from Mexico. I ended up staying up until 1:30 am talking with one girl about Mexico and America. She told me as a Mexican she did not understand the hatred America has for her people. She told me she loved America. She had studied there in high school. She was eloquent and beautiful and sincere. And I was amazed having this dialogue; I felt the conversation had a message that was thematic of the weekend: talk to people and try to understand them, that is the best and the least you can do. They may show you their truth, or maybe take advantage of you. But if I had been filled with the pessimism and fear that I could have, I would have never had this eye opening conversation. I have resolved to continue this unique characteristic I have been blessed with: love and curiosity towards all people. If it’s naive, call me naive. I think it saves me from ignorance.I want to make something clear: I was impacted, deeply by this incident. I was psychologically impacted, at least, I think I was. I have had trouble sleeping since, for example. But I am ok. I am ok because I have good friends who took care of me. I am ok because I met more and more people who inspired love and light in me in Barcelona, and continue to encounter them in Prague. I am ok because I have a mother who cares deeply for me and checks in on me daily. I am ok because I have resources in Prague. I am ok because I have friends I can talk to at any hour of the day. I am ok.Sometimes, what happened to me happens to someone who is alone, who is powerless, who has no resources. And that, to me, is the most devastating thought. I am privileged. Which is another reason I am telling this story publically. Because, I can.Anyway, the rest of Barcelona a was truly so beautiful. Gaudi inspired me artistically, and charmed my senses. More than anything, I learned how true my friends are. They were very patient with me. They have been spearheading the justice we are trying to receive. They are good. Props to their parents :).I was certainly put into a weird mood from the incident on the first night, but I also realized again, and again how truly happy I was.Since, I have been enjoying Prague turn into Spring before my eyes. The trees are green and FLOWERS are EVERYWHERE. Oh my goodness, do I love it. The streets are more crowded and this past weekend actually, it was 70 degrees.Thank you for reading. I will update on the incident and its hopeful resolution.As always, a poem. This one highlighting the feeling I have feuling me lately. I really feel like this message, is one that resonates with who I am at my core.THE INVITATION

ORIAH MOUNTAIN DREAMER

“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”

So here I am, learning so much about who I am, and who the world is.

Much love,

Maisie

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