Kicked

Who gets to speak up? And who is supposed to just take it?

He kicks me once.

I let it go.

A minute later, he kicks me again — harder this time.

He’s a stranger and I don’t know him. We are in a pool.

But this young man with a powerful breaststroke kick is extending past his lane and into my space because he can.

Why?

Because on the other side of the lane marker, he is sharing a lane with another man — and the Man Code™ of The Patriarchy always dictates AMSAP (As Much Space As Possible) between two men, especially when they are each wearing little pieces of clothing over their private parts.

We all know how it is. Men get extra space in our society. And if needed, they are permitted to encroach on any woman’s space.

But it’s his second kick that gets me.

I am already sharing my lane with a man who isn’t kicking me, so I’m sure not going to tolerate getting repeatedly kicked from a man in an entire other lane.

What I Do

I swim to the end of the lane where The Kicker is resting.

“Hey, watch yourself,” I say in a light voice, “You just hit me twice from your lane.”

The Kicker stares at me.

I turn back and keep swimming.

You already know it doesn’t end here. No story where a woman tells a man to respect her space ends right away.

Thirty Minutes Later

I’m still swimming but I’m doing drills now. There’s time to look up and look around. I see The Kicker get out of the pool and stare at my lane.

I keep swimming.

I see him start to walk towards the stairs that lead to the men’s locker room.

I keep swimming.

I see him turn back.

Yup. 30 seconds later, I’m approaching the end of the lane and he’s there, leaning over my lane, saying something.

I stop and smile. (Woman’s first defense. We all learn this when we are young.) I politely tell him “I can’t hear you” and motion to my earplugs, which I start taking out.

He is angry. Of course he’s angry. This is America. Many American men seem to exist daily in a cloud of anger that the rest of us don’t really understand.

What He Says

His words are a mixture of apologizing (“I’m sorry for touching you”) and attacking (“You are out of line”). He seems especially perturbed that I used the phrase “Watch yourself.” He has taken this as an affront, a challenge of sorts, and it’s irked him so much that he’s come back to fight a 60-year-old woman while wearing a Speedo.

It’s all so absurd but I don’t laugh.

I calmly talk him through his anger (reminding him that “It’s okay to apologize” and “I’m not mad at you” ) but he continues to vent. Then I say, “I really just meant watch yourself so it doesn’t happen again. We get going fast and things happen. I just wanted it to stop happening because getting kicked is very jarring in the pool.”

He softens. And smiles.

Now he apologizes for real — not the angry “sorry” from earlier. While he talks, I can see he is not totally in control of his emotions or the way he moves through the world. Our patriarchal society has taught this young man to take umbrage at the phrase “Watch yourself” so he has had a Pavlovian response.

This is what men like him do. It all seems natural.

Except it isn’t.

We’ve just been sold that it is.

And We’ve All Seen This a Thousand Times

Man hits woman —> Woman objects —> Man gets angry at woman for objecting.

In a way, this young man’s anger isn’t even his own.

He’s been handed this anger response and he carries it while his best hope for a good life is to drop the anger and find a gentler way to communicate. But it’s going to take a while for him to realize this, if he ever gets there.

But I don’t say any of that to him. There’s only so much you can do in the pool between laps.

Instead, I just smile. “It’s all good, “ I tell him. “Have a great day.”

I turn back into my lane.

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Bonus Read: A sign on the bus reminds me that Gen Z does not brook what Gen X put up with.