Thursday, 30 July 2015

Creepers and Life Lessons Learned at the Pokemon Store


A Pokemon store opened a couple of months ago in our little backwater, and Tiger has been dying to visit. First I put him off until the summer holidays, then until payday, then just a few more days, then eventually yesterday I promised we'd go after some running around we had to do in town. It was 33 degrees, the chores took forever, we ran out of time to go before his gymnastics lesson but I promised ABSOLUTELY after gymnastics. He was incredibly patient and good about it, and when we finally made our way towards the shopping center he was literally jumping with excitement. As we searched around in the maze of new shops for the Pokemon store I noticed a British guy trying to engage passing school girls in conversation using loud, aggressive-sounding English. "What a creep" I thought, but having the kids in tow I didn't want to start anything so I just ignored him. He noticed us, however, and followed after us yelling "HELLOOOO" at the top of his lungs. I tried to ignore him, but he ran ahead and then blocked our path and began a rambling and largely incoherent conversation about how we didn't know each other but our friends had probably met each other so we should be friends. He reeked of booze. He was being friendly enough but he was swaying and touching me and the baby and kept poking his finger into the baby's face saying "beautiful eyes, beautiful blue eyes" and I was terrified he was actually going to stick a finger in those eyes. I tried to extract us from the situation in the usual ways, but he continued to follow us, block our path an get in our personal space. I took the kids to the toilet and we hid there. Poor Tiger, after his long wait he was close enough to smell Pikachu and some jerk was ruining it for him. We checked a couple of times but the creeper was lurking, waiting for us. I spent thirty minutes in the toilets with an increasingly upset Tiger before eventually calling the husband to come and get us. He came in a hurry and parked in a spot we couldn't use for long, so in the end our poor little boy got a five minute run around the store and a frustrated promise that we'd come back another day. For us, it was a scary situation with a stalker. For the creeper, he probably saw it as a friendly encounter.
As we hid in the toilet Tiger ran through our options.
"Get angry and tell him to leave us alone?"
"He'll say 'why are you being like that, I'm just being friendly' and then he'll still follow us around but he'll be angry and yell at us a lot."
"Ignore him and tell him we're in a hurry?"
"He'll just follow us into the shop."
"Ask the staff for help?"
"It'll turn into a big scene and we'll be dragged into it."*
As we ran through each scenario I realised that what I was relating to Tiger were not hypothetical outcomes but rather the results of years of my own experimentation with dealing with street harassment. I've tried every variation imaginable to extricate myself from drunks, creepers and perverts and I am well aware of the dangers inherent in each one. The safest course, in my experience, has always been to avoid confrontation. In the end though, this leaves the creepers blissfully unaware of the havoc they cause.

Clementine Ford wrote recently about an experience at a restaurant in which the owner stuck his fingers into her friend's meal:
He acted like I was being incredible tedious and said that I didn't understand that this was a "fun" place and that it wasn't a big deal. (Yeah, because it's always so "fun" when someone puts their fingers where they're not wanted.) I pushed the point and he grudgingly said that he would get a new meal for my friend (who also said to him explicitly, "I need you to know that I wasn't okay with that.")
He then returned to the table and further tried to press his point. That I didn't "get it", that no one else ever has a problem with that kind of behaviour, that I was being difficult and "fucking unreasonable". At that point, we stood up to get our money refunded and he followed us to the bar and actually tried to stop the bar staff from refunding our money....
We got our refund and then as I turned to leave, the owner said "fuck off, you cunt". 
This is what happens when you tell creepers they are being creepy. They get aggressive, insist you are misunderstanding them and in my (extensive~ I was barely eleven the first time an adult man on the street commented on my breasts) experience they often follow it up with physical intimidation and violence to drive home the point that they are a nice guy and you are just a fucking ungrateful lesbian bitch. Much as I would have loved Tiger to see me standing my ground, when you have a four month old baby strapped to your chest facing into danger just isn't the right thing to do. It wasn't the right thing to do when I was trying to get the bus home after work when I was sixteen and alone either. The more I think about it the angrier I feel that I'm sitting here feeling guilty for letting the guy get away with it as though his behaviour is my responsibility to stop... but then, that's always how we treat these things, isn't it? Jill should have worn sensible shoes. I say "creepers" because that's how I think of them, but even my dad does the same thing. My parents had a high school student do a home stay and my father made a joke about her electric toothbrush doing double duty as a vibrator. She asked me to help her deal with it. When I told my parents it had made the girl uncomfortable the usual happened. He wasn't a creep, it was just a joke, she was over-reacting. I patiently tried to explain that maybe her feeling uncomfortable was a good enough reason to avoid such conversations whether or not HE thought they were creepy but no, it just didn't compute. Then my mother, who as so many women do staunchly supports a patriarchal social order, jumped in with "well she clearly provokes such comments and young girls all secretly love attention from older men." In frustration I ended up snapping at them both: "she's a CHILD and she is in YOUR CARE, get over yourselves!" They sulked with me for quite some time.
Anyway, to look on the bright side, when I need to talk to Tiger about these issues we now have a convenient short-hand: "Don't be the guy at the Pokemon store."

*This being Japan, we would have been implicated by our shared foreignness. I doubt the guy spoke Japanese so I would probably have been dragging in to interpret. The staff would have freaked out and the whole situation then called the police. The police require ID and statements from anyone "involved" in an incident... a friend was fingerprinted and had her mug shot taken when she reported being the victim of a mugging. I doubt they would have accepted that I didn't know the guy and I felt it would have made the situation worse for us.
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Tuesday, 28 July 2015


1 comment:
Life is crazy and the blog is suffering, so I'm sharing something I wrote to friends last year that isn't really up to blogging standard but I hope may be slightly entertaining. I used made-up names for friends who would find it easier, but you can read a proper blurb over at Stella Lee, from whence I stole this lovely photo:
Too sick (morning sickness will apparently never end) to do anything except watch TV, but out of good shows so I tried picking a random show from hulu and watched a very problematic Japanese comedy about an obese girl who loses weight to work at a fashion magazine, is sent off to write cake reviews and subsequently gets force fed cake by a violent patissiere she falls in love with but who causes her to regain all her weight and then says he won’t date “fat chicks“. Do I watch episode 2 in morbid curiosity or try to erase it from my memory?!

OK, I have braved the disturbing world of "Rebound" and am ready to share the exciting events of episodes 2-5.

At the end of episode 1 Prince had declared his love for Piglet, who had "rebounded" to obesity (a fat suit) as a result of his cakes, but tells her he can't date "fat chicks". She's already at the shop when he says that and before she can leave he sees her and, not recognizing her, assumes she is his new part time employee. She plays along, calling herself Choko. She was also fired from her job at the fashion magazine for gaining weight.

In episode 2 Piglet tells Prince that she needs a couple of weeks before she can meet him, and tells him to make her a new cake in the meantime. He suspects that she is playing him and turns to "Choko" for advice. During this period Piglet meets up with an old boyfriend who seems to get off on jiggling her fat. I shall call him Feeder. Her employer also tells her that if she can lose the weight in two weeks she can have her job back. She admits herself to a weight-loss clinic and undergoes various painful looking procedures before getting back down to 40-somthing kilos. In the meantime Prince is desperately drowning his insecurities in cake. At the end of the episode Piglet calls him to say they can meet and he has a delicious cake delivered to her, but it turns out that now he has become obese.

Episode 3 is largely Piglet trying to deal with the fact that she doesn't want to date Prince now that he's fat. In this episode we learn that he was obese as a child and his unhappy memories are why he wont date fat women, so his comments in eps 1 and 2 are totally justified while "women only care about appearance" and are shallow. He starts calling "Choko" and suggests they should date instead since they are both fat. At the same time Feeder ends up working liaison with Piglet's company. He tells her he always liked her the way she was and suggests they date again. Just as she seems tempted, Prince has another new cake delivered to her, and realizing that even though the only thing she liked about him was his looks she actually also really likes his cakes, so she goes running to him... and he has also lost weight. Now they are both skinny they can finally shag, so they run off to a hotel. However, both get up in the night to down diet pills.

Episode 4 starts out with them waking in the hotel then going to the gym together where they commiserate about to horrors of growing up fat while obsessively exercising. Their excessive lovie-dovieness quickly begins to tire them both and they both keep chugging down diet pills despite warnings of dangerous side-effects. Still feeling insecure Prince tries to rush into marriage but Piglet gets cold feet when she realises he expects her to quit her job right as she is offered a promotion of sorts in the form of a company trip to Paris. He makes her a giant pink wedding cake but she says that isn't the cake she wants, she wants a "I'll support your career" cake. He then gets depressed and wallows around in the wedding cake and she feels bad, so she quits her job and hands back the plane ticket. Not knowing this, Prince shows up and with a "I actually totally support your career" cake and takes her to the airport, telling her to have fun in Paris but not to gain weight or he'll dump her.

Episode 5 Not able to actually go to Paris or afford a hotel, Piglet is offered a place to stay by Feeder, who knows the whole story. He takes her to a hotel, orders a bunch of room service and threatens to tell Prince everything unless she eats it. As they scuffle her diet pills all end up in the toilet. He then takes her to her old company to try and get her job back. As they wait to speak to her old boss, a fashion designer who had announced a partnership with the magazine says he will cancel their contract unless the magazine staff eat 200 cakes. They can't manage it and Piglet steps in, eating all the cakes, saving the day and getting her job back. She once again "rebounds" and confesses everything to Prince who says he is sick of her lies and tells her not to come back.

How will it end? Well, I did watch the whole thing but it turned into a pretty ordinary love triangle then "oh no, filial obligation or love?" drama after episode 5 and got kind of dull to write up, so you'll just have to watch it yourselves. It is worth holding on for the end though... they make a deep-fried pork cake. For realsies.
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Sunday, 5 July 2015

Birth in Japan Stories ~ Sunday Surf

The care I received during third stage was just as gentle and honoring as the labor and birth support.  We enjoyed two hours of skin-to-skin together without any mention of interruption.  The room was filled with women caring for us, celebrating us, supporting us, and recounting what we had just experienced together.  A room full of almost strangers who treated us like family from start to finish.  I was grateful.

My baby's umbilical cord was not clamped until it had completely ceased pulsing and the placenta was birthed gently by me when it was ready and not a moment before.  My doula cut her cord once the placenta was born and we continued to snuggle as I inspected the placenta which was soon after picked up by a fabulous placenta specialist to encapsulate it, all the while chatting to my husband and staring at our incredible, perfect daughter.  She was later weighed (7lbs 9 oz) and was measured the next day.  We were tucked in later to our cozy private room in a double bed to co-sleep and nurse the night away with angel-nurses quietly and gently checking in on us every few hours and silently disappearing again.  It was the most gentle care in the most gentle space one could image for birth to take place.  I'm so thankful for the kindness of the welcome they provided me.  This birth center was truly a safe haven for me and my daughter and I am forever grateful for its existence and my experience there.
you slid out into your father’s hands, and as i said, we both hovered over you, taking you in.  you were so distinctly you to my eyes.  not like your brother.  you had your own eyes, your own nose, your own hair.  just you.  your papa cut the cord and i took it all in. i could hardly believe the blonde haired, blue eyed babe in my hands was you, and you were mine.
Much of the day was spent walking.  I feared that laying down would stop labor, and after having spent hours laboring already, there was no way I was going to risk slowing it down.  Around noon, I was completely surprised by a nurse bringing me lunch.  That’s right, the Japanese believe in nourishing women who are trying to push babies out of their bodies!  And MAN does Japanese hospital food taste good.
When I had my first baby 4 years ago, I chose a general hospital and my experience there was not very good. It was all about pain. Fear of the pain overtook everything and I was confused, panicked, felt hopeless and got angry afterwards. I lost my energy struggling with the pain through the birth and I couldn’t push at the end. So that the nurse got on my belly & pushed the baby out and also vacuumed, I didn’t understand what was going on at the time. Luckily my baby girl was born safely, but I lost a lot of blood (1300ml) and I had postpartum depression for a while. I couldn’t have a feeling that “I” gave birth. I thought this experience was produced by that hospital system such as – nurses were too busy & didn’t have time to stay with me to support – they didn’t provide the natural birth, but also I myself didn’t study & understand well about the birth. So that this time I read a book to study about & chose a maternity center (Aqua Birth House in Setagaya) to do the natural birth. Aqua Birth House was such a wonderful place. Each & every checkup was enjoyable. They gave their time for us fully and took at least 30 min for each checkup. They listened sincerely to even small concerns or questions and gave beneficial advice.
Then we went up the elevator to the 5th floor and that’s when everything suddenly changed. The nurse couldn’t find the baby’s heart beat and was worried about the shape of my tummy. My husband asked me what is wrong and I said they can’t find the baby’s heart beat. My heart dropped. I was terrified. Suddenly everything changed, nurses and doctor ran in immediately, I was moved onto a stretcher and rushed into the operating room. Clothes stripped, spinal block in, curtain up, everything was a blur of running nurses and doctors. It all happened so quickly. I could even feel the doctor cutting my stomach. I felt everything and even some pain from the knife. I was panicking and asking the doctor about the baby, but she said she didn’t know yet. Just then my husband was by my side in his operating clothing and hairnet, and then I felt the doctor pull the baby out and we heard our baby cry. I can’t describe the relief. I started crying. 
I had a very positive birth experience. I wanted to try for a natural birth, but was very flexible and open to different things.  The most important thing for us was we didn't want to feel as if things were just happening to me and I didn't have a say. My birth experience involved every decision and choice being made by G and I with no pressure from my doctor or midwives, they listened and took cues from me and I am so thankful.
Finally, they gave him back to me.  They encouraged me to have skin to skin contact with my new baby and to try nursing him.  He stayed with me for a long time.  It’s amazing how quickly the memory of the pain fades when you look into the eyes of your new baby. He was finally here, and he was perfect!
Around 10pm I was in complete hysteria. The pain was so great that I just kept crying and begging to be taken to a hospital which performs epidural or at least get a C-section in my current hospital (which was denied). The hospital I chose is all about natural birth and don't usually give any painkillers, but the nurse's heart finally went soft on me and she suggested one drug. She told me it is a very strong one and supposed to work and allow me approx 3hours of sleep. She warned me the shot would be painful too, but at that moment I was ready for anything just to make the pain go numb for some time so that I can get some sleep. Well, and I still can't figure why, that "super strong and effective painkiller drug" had ZERO EFFECT ON ME. Like, really, zero! It actually became worse because I had to endure the pain from the shot, too. I was completely in tears from the huge frustration. I soooo hoped that drug would work and I can rest...
He informed us that in order for them to proceed, they were going to need to perform an X-Ray on my wife in order to admit her into the hospital.  The reason that we were given was so that they could make sure her hips were wide enough to deliver the baby.  This immediately sent alarm bells ringing in both my wife’s and my own head.  Every bit of literature that we had read up until then had said that X-Rays while the baby was in the womb were generally regarded as a bad idea.  Considering the baby wasn’t quite full term, we were concerned about the safety of such a procedure.  When we brought this up to the doctor, he immediately began to get defensive.
He replied quite aggressively that all hospitals did that, which was the first time that we had ever heard anyone say that.  Up until that point, every examination we had undergone was done by ultrasound only.  When we said that this was not a common practice in the US, he replied with, “If you want to use American procedures, then you should get on a plane and fly back to America.”  This obviously rubbed us the wrong way, but we tried to keep an open mind.  Maybe he was just gruff in his manner.  We asked for some time to do some more research to make sure it was ok, and he responded with, “If you don’t accept this procedure right now, then we will not accept you at all.  You will have to leave, and don’t bother coming back.”  He followed that up with, “If you don’t do this, there’s a possibility the baby could die.”  Finally, he kicked us out of his room while we were trying to discuss what to do because he didn’t want us to waste his time.  Keep in mind that all of this is being filtered through our friend who was acting as translator, and the doctor would give her time to translate his responses, but would cut her off whenever she would try to translate what we were saying.
I can’t find the words to describe how I felt at that very moment – relief, triumph, sheer amazement at what my body could do and the miracle of this beautiful baby boy that came from me (somehow, the c-section misses that last step). Another contraction later and I felt a huge blob (the placenta) slide out too. I cannot believe I actually pulled off a VBAC, and with absolutely no painkillers at that. I claim the honor of being the one successful VBAC at Todai this year.
By this time I was really on edge. They would not administer any sort of pain relief and kept telling her to shut up. I felt hopeless to help her. So guilty.
The checked her over and said its time to go to the delivery room. We went in and I was told to stand behind a white line and wipe sweat from her head. Not to speak to get as it wastes her energy to listen. So I held her hand. Throughout the whole delivery they kept telling her to stop screaming and stop making facial expressions. I was so upset, worried and scared. They then cut her down there even though we asked not for that to be done and were told it won't be. (I have heard that hospitals like doing this in Japan and always will, even if you request not to)
So our baby was finally born. I was immediately told to leave and given the left over peice of umbilical cord in a bag.
And that brings me to now. I am no longer allowed to see the baby other than through glass for 10 mind per day. For a week. I am very happy yet very upset at this whole ordeal. I can't wait for her to get out and come home, it's like escaping a concentration camp. 
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