Dear the Man I met in Rome,

                  Unfortunately I do not know your name, we met a couple of summers ago in the beautiful city of Rome. I was traveling alone, I think you were too. Although when I think back to the night we met I don’t think you mentioned if you were traveling or a resident of the city. I remember that you asked me if I was traveling alone and I told you the truth, it was after this that you became interested in me. I think you were fascinated by my bravery to travel alone and that I had nobody who was there with me that night.

                  I threw my coin into the fountain, you asked me what I wished for and I told you that I couldn’t possibly tell you. I think I must have said it in a somewhat flirtatious manner as you suddenly became closer to me. I hope I wasn’t coming on to you a little strong. We walked side by side back to the underground. You seemed very interested in me; you asked quite a few questions, I responded to them all. I am sorry that I didn’t ask you as many questions; I think I was nervous about all the attention you were giving me.  I wasn’t use to boys giving me attention, I was usually the quite girl in the back that no one really spared a thought for. But not you. You offered me a sweet, I think I refused it. For this action I can only apologize and hope I did not come off as rude. As I recall I had eaten quite a bit of food that day and I didn’t want to eat anything else that could be considered hunk food.

                  We continued to walk together, it was lovely warm evening, I could have walked all night. I was up early the next day though. I cut our encounter short said bye and conducted gestures that would signify that I was going into the underground. I hoped this would convey me meaning as you spoke very little English and I didn’t speak any of your language. You didn’t continue walking, which surprised me as I thought that was the way you were heading. You followed me into the underground, I brought my ticket out of my purse pushed it into the reader and activated the device. I walked through; you brought yourself rather close to me and went through the turnstile with me on my fare. I thought that was rather brazen of you. I didn’t say anything I only smiled and laughed it off. I didn’t want you to think I was a stuck up girl.

                  You came with me to my platform, you boarded the same train as me. I stood quite close to the door, as I knew my stop was only a couple of stops away. You stood with me I remember that you stood rather close and that you kissed me on the cheek. I hate to inform you that your actions at this point of the night made me feel really uncomfortable. This was not something I was use to and I didn’t know how to properly inform you of that. I didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced girl. The train pulled into my stop, I jumped off, so did you. I began to think that I had given you the wrong impression and that you thought you were coming home with me. It made me extremely nervous. I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. I turned around, pushed you to the ground and ran off. I ran all the way to my hostel, I entered through the gate and sat on the floor for a while. I think I began crying; I was just so confused by what had happened.

                  Now when I think back to the event I think you were wrong for how strongly you came on to me. I think I was wrong for how I reacted. For my actions I would like to apologize and if I ever see you again in this great big world I will apologize in person.

 

Until then I hope that we can both put that awkward night behind us.

 

From Emily.

                                                          ***

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Dear Man,

                  Man is what I shall call you for all intents and purposes, for I know no other name for you. This is how little we knew each other. We did not even exchange names before you felt your male privilege need to violate me. I call you ‘Man’ as I wish to refer to you in the singular not to your collective gender which as a whole I am okay with. You are the man who preyed upon me. You are the man who made me feel my vulnerability. You are the man who enabled me to see the weakness of my gender. You are the man who made me believe this world is not a safe place for a woman to be. How did you do this? You did this by believing yourself to be the dominant gender and taking full advantage of that.

                  It was an August evening in Rome, Italy. I do not remember the exact date; I do not remember the exact year. I would not allow the memory to hold that much esteem in my brain, where every detail was held in glass and if I forgot one item my entire psyche would be shattered. I would not allow you to do that to me. You Man are a memory I visit rarely. Man, you have become the memory I visit when I need to address my vulnerability for this I hate you Man. You approached me at the Trevi fountain, I flipped a coin and made a wish as so many have done before me and so many would do after me. I wore my red flowery playsuit, I loved that playsuit but you tainted it and I cannot wear it, cannot look at it without thinking of you. Thank you.

                  You said Hello; I could tell from this one world that your English was broken. This didn’t effect what you did next as you spoke a language that crossed all barriers. One of exploitation. I was polite and I replied, this was my first mistake. I walked away from the fountain. You followed. You offered me a sweet. I declined. You asked me my age. I replied. Truthfully. My second mistake. You asked more questions. I continued to answer. My third mistake.  You asked where I was going. I told you back to my hostel. My fourth mistake.

                  You continued to follow me, I began to relies you had no preconceived destination; your destination Man became my destination. You traced me into the subway. My heart quickened in its beat. I put my ticket in the turnstile. I felt you body push against mine. You had gone through on my fare. I noticed you did not look at any of the maps; you lurked behind me and wanted my train. I waited for the one I needed. Mistake number five. You grabbed my hand. You dear Man believed you were holding it as you gave me a smile. You were not. I did not want your skin on mine. I was glad when the train came it gave me a reason to shake you loose as I bordered. I thought back then I needed a reason to shake you loose. I know now I didn’t. You were exploiting me.

                  There were no seats available; I stood near the door, ready to leap off at my stop. You positioned yourself next to me, inching closer with each shiver of the train. I curled my body in on itself, placing my arms up in defense. You moved closer. I moved my head to look around the carriage; no one was coming to my aid. You moved closer. No one realized I was a woman in distress. You moved closer. Your lips were on my skin. I never agreed to that. One of your hands was on my arse. I never agreed to that. You other hand was on my breast. I never agreed to that. Do you see the pattern here Man? You never had my consent. My words may have failed me but with my body you never had my consent.

                  My stop approached. I jumped off. You came with me. I became frightened. I began to fully see what would happen next if I did not act. My hostel was a few meters away; I could reach it in seconds and be safe if only I could beat you. I curled my hands around my keys; I pulled them out of my bag. I turned to face you. You leaned in to violate me. I shoved you. You fell to the ground. I ran, never allowing myself to turn back. I plunged myself through my hostel gate. I sat on the floor and cried behind the safety of the iron fence. I cried at my vulnerability, I cried at my exploitation. I cried because I lived in a world where my politeness could cause my sexual assault. I cried at the realization you made me see, Man.

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                                                                  A woman’s body is not yours,

                                                                       My body is not yours,

                                                                             My body is mine,

                                                                                  Emily.

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