A look at me can easily make you guess my age. That is certainly not over 30, let alone over 25.
Some might even think I’m 17. Yet despite this youthful appearance, nothing stopped this guy, let’s call him “Jean,” from trying to ruin my already-not-so-beautiful morning.
I have a simple routine: I walk to the bus stop, wait for my bus, and head to school.
This morning is no different. On my way to the bus stop, a man rides past me on a scooter in the opposite direction. Just before he passes, he flashes a big smile as if we’re old friends and mouths bonjour.
At first, I’m unsure if the greeting is for me, so I glance around. On looking back, I find his eyes fixated at mine and I smile back, whispering a bonjour in return.
It’s a cold morning and with all the gloomy faces I usually see, I find his gesture bizarre but kind and thoughtful.
I don’t think much about it and continue on my way to the bus stop. Just as I get there, I look back and see him heading towards me.
“Huh! I thought we were only exchanging smiles. Why is he coming over?” I wonder.
As he approaches, I scan him. He looks older, probably in his 50s, and seems to be using a breathing aid, or at least, that’s what I assume.
Since I’ve got time, I don’t mind having a chit chat with him. Plus it seems like an opportunity to continue improving my French speaking skills.
We start with the usual small talk; where I stay, what I do, and soon the conversation takes a turn that makes me regret smiling back.
Normally, a conversation like this would offend me and I’d cut it short, but today, I choose to stay calm.
They say a good day starts in the morning, and I’m not about to let this guy ruin mine by getting under my skin.
What I initially thought would be a one-time conversation turns into something I have to deal with regularly. I start seeing him often whenever I’m in town.
One of the disadvantages of living in a small town, I guess.
Eventually, it becomes one of those situations where I have to pretend to be on the phone with someone who doesn’t exist, just to avoid talking to him.
Anyway, to cut to the point I’ve been leading you to:
We’re chatting, and out of nowhere, he asks if I have enough money for rent and food. Then he starts asking if I have a boyfriend and sympathizes with how hard and expensive it must be for me living alone.
Even after I tell him I’m doing fine and can take care of myself, he goes on to suggest what some girls my age do: They sell their bodies to men like him for a measly 5 euros. It works out for him because he gets “a good time,” and the girls get some “pocket money.”
I barely know this man, and I can’t wrap my head around why he is feeling so comfortable to take this conversation in such a direction. Like where’s the respect?
If I have to describe the situation, I’d say it’s insulting, sexist, racist—just a mix of all the offensive adjectives you can think of.
Nevertheless, I remain calm. I engage him, trying to get where he’s coming from.
In the midst of all this, instead of anger, I feel pity for him. I see loneliness in his eyes. I want to ask if he has kids, a wife, or how he ended up in this situation, but I hold back—it’s none of my business.
It’s sad that he assumes, just because I’m black, that I might be desperate enough to be with someone as old as he is for financial support.
And because I’m a woman, he figures I’d sell myself for 5 euros, as that’s the value he places on any woman’s worth.
They say wisdom comes with age, but despite the gap between us, I can’t find any valuable lesson in what he’s saying.
‘Jean’ aside.
It’s funny. You’d expect to encounter progressive thinking in a developed country, but the truth is, stereotypical and biased views persist everywhere.
A random fact is, being a black woman in a ‘foreign‘ country means one needs to have thick skin. Time and again, older men approach me, bringing up talks on marriage and papers.
Before I can even introduce myself, I’m already put in a box of assumptions.
No wonder some yappy mouths claimed Aya Nakamura shouldn’t sing at the launch of the Paris 2024 Olympics because she’s black thus not French.
I don’t think men like Jean will change their mindset anytime soon.
So, to any woman out there: if someone like him approaches you, just pepper spray them. Maybe that’ll open their eyes to the fact that we’re in the 21st century.
Wisdom certainly comes not with age; some people just collect birthdays 🥴
Reading and learning.
“Pepper spray them and maybe they’ll open their eyes and see that we’re in the 21st century” I love that!!!
Very good writing skills 😘🤗