To the man who followed my wife home from the grocery store the
other day,
These days, it’s easy to give in to fear and suspicion. To
believe we’re less safe than we ever have been. To imagine no one can be
trusted.
Over the past three days I’ve been reminding my wife we
don’t have to do that. That fear doesn’t keep us secure. That we’re actually
more safe, in the incredibly blessed circumstances in which we’ve found
ourselves, than the vast majority of people in our society since its founding.
That most people are good people, with good intentions.
And that you’re probably — almost definitely — a good guy
who made a stupid decision to follow her home from the grocery store.
She is beautiful, after all. Striking. If I didn’t know her,
and if I was a single guy (as I assume you are) I’d want to get to know her,
too.
But here’s what I wouldn’t have done: I wouldn’t have waited
for her to check out and then followed her into the parking lot. I wouldn’t
have gotten into my car and pulled up behind hers on the road. I wouldn’t have
followed her, turn for turn, as she serpentined this way and that through the
city. I wouldn’t have thought that such driving was normal — and so I would
have assumed that the person I was pursuing was nervous about what I was doing.
She thought she lost you when she no longer could see you in
her rear-view mirror. And she believes, as I do, that we shouldn’t always
assume the worst about people. She figured it was all in her head.
Not for nothing, since you are an African American man and
she is a white woman, she was conscientious about the possibility that the fear
and suspicion she so loathes when she sees it in other people could somehow be
materializing in her own subconscious. She didn’t want to feel that way about
you, though she didn’t even know you.
She told herself that everything was fine and she drove
home.
Then you pulled up to the curb. You were cordial, she says,
though nonetheless creepy. You told her she was beautiful. You asked for her
number. You persisted when she told you she was married (a recognizable and
time-tested statement of declination — regardless of whether it’s true and
regardless of the questionable sanctity of that tradition in our society.) You
asked if she was on Facebook and if she wanted a friend.
Again, she said no. Finally you apologized and drove away.
That’s where it ended for you. Not, though, for her.
The past few days she’s been second-guessing herself. She’s
been wondering if she made a mistake in coming home. She’s been thinking she should
have kept driving — maybe right to the police station — and that she should
have given into fear. She posted your description and a description of your car
on Facebook, though neither is particularly detailed — you’re a tall, well-dressed
20-something black man in a late-model gold sedan — so she’s apprehensive about
adding to the already terrible environment of profiling faced by men who look
like you do.
And she’s scared. She knows it’s incredibly unlikely that
she needs to feel that way, but that’s how she feels nonetheless. It may or may
not be a logical response, but it is an absolutely reasonable one.
To my knowledge (and I think it is good knowledge, but no man
is ever entitled to assume) my wife is not one of the 28 million American women
who have been raped in their lifetimes. But you don’t know that. You couldn’t know
that. So, for all you know, in addition to the fear your actions could have
incited in any person, you might very well have been re-awakening a past trauma
in her life.
Damn you.
It’s not really my place to stand up for my wife. She can do
that for herself and she did it quite well the other day. But men who don’t
consider how their actions are likely to be perceived by women are likely not
to listen to women either. And because it seems highly possible that you are
irrational in this way, please allow me to tell you: You need to stop doing
this sort of thing.
It’s not cute. It’s not charming. It’s not an acceptable way
to strike up a conversation with a person you’re attracted to. If you want to
talk to a woman you don’t know, approach her in public when she is surrounded by
other people. Take “no” for an answer. And take anything that seems like it’s
remotely like “no” for an answer, too.
Yes, I’ll bet you’re a good guy who made a stupid decision.
But I’ll bet you’ve done this before. And I’ll bet you’ll do it again if you’re
not shamed for it by other men.
So shame on you. Start acting like a man.
Sincerely,
matthew
