Random Musings: Safe spaces

center parcs

I first visited Center Parcs over twenty years ago when my sister’s sons were toddlers. My husband and I drove to the Nottingham site to visit her family as they holidayed there and enjoyed an active couple of days, despite having to sleep in bunk beds. By the time our own children came along a more local facility had been built which provided twin beds and even better swimming areas. It soon became a favourite destination.

As well as the child friendly site with its multiple play areas and largely traffic free roads it felt a safe space for me as an adult. The clientele were of all shapes and sizes, the dress code relaxed. Hanging out by the pool in my swimsuit was never an issue; rolls of flesh and cellulite were on show and nobody seemed to care.

Last weekend we returned to Longleat for what is likely to be this year’s only family holiday. For the first time in the many years we have been visiting I did not feel safe.

During the course of the first day I left the pool area to fetch a forgotten item from our car. Phone reception is poor and I wished to send a text to a friend who was due to visit the next day. As I studied my phone searching for signal I became aware of two young men sitting at a picnic table nearby. They were calling out: ‘Bingo wings. Bingo wings!’ There was nobody else around. For whatever reason they had decided to insult me.

I ignored them which led to a louder, more insistent cry: ‘Fat ass. Oy, fat ass!’ I finally got my text message to send and left the area, briefly making eye contact with the young men as I passed. Later in the day I chanced upon them again. As they walked by they glanced at me and muttered in a derisory tone: ‘Oh god it’s her again’. It would seem that my existence in a public space is an affront to the bright young things who decorate such places so pleasingly.

I do not deny the truth of their observations but wonder why they felt moved to act as they did.

Had this been the extent of my discomfort over the weekend then I would have put it down to an unfortunate but isolated encounter with rudeness. Unfortunately it was only just the start.

The other holiday makers included the usual Boden mums with their beautifully dressed offspring, proud grandmothers accompanying their precious little grandchildren, and a pleasingly diverse array of skin tone and language. There were not, however, the variety of body shapes that I had come to expect. Perhaps the media has succeeded in fat shaming and diets have been adhered to, or perhaps the overweight now holiday elsewhere.

I was subjected to numerous hard stares as I moved around the site, pointed tuts from the grandparents as I took up space they desired for their families. I longed for the ability to levitate as others sought to have me out of their way. Is this because I am now older? fatter? sans children? Gone were the smiles I have previously encountered, the camaraderie of shared experience. Instead I was subjected to irritation and muttered comments for inhabiting public space.

Even at our villa the ambience had changed. Next door there appeared to be a hen party in residence. Our enjoyment of the adorable family of fluffy ducklings that waddled by our window with their proud mama each day was spoiled when a father caught two of the tiny birds for his daughters to stroke. I so hope that his scent on them did not lead to rejection, that the fluffy babies recovered from their trauma. Across the lake I heard angry shouting and banging as a family row erupted that went on and on. It was not the peaceful environment I have come to expect.

Our holiday was still enjoyed. We spent hours by the pool although I stayed clothed and read my book rather than taking to the water with my family. We played many games of badminton, squash and table tennis; went boating on the lake; cycled round and around the site. We ate delicious meals together at a variety of restaurants. I did not, however, feel that I could relax as I could before.

It is hard to quantify why an environment feels safe. Have the other guests changed or have I? If my family wish then it is likely that we will return, perhaps next year. For me though it will be with some trepidation.

 

 

The unacceptable passing remark

The weather forecasters tell me that rain is on the way, bringing to an end the cold but sunny weather of the last week. With this in mind I decided to walk into town yesterday as my new glasses were awaiting collection at the opticians. It seemed a shame to spend a dry, bright day indoors.

I walk into town along a series of quiet lanes, cycle paths and footpaths. It is a picturesque route with only the occasional cyclist or dog walker passing by. I always try to smile and exchange a greeting; I see it as a simple, friendly gesture. I am generally wary of strange dogs but realise that most are harmless, as are their owners.

Today I was approached by a large, black, fluffy creature with a waggy tail, smooth hackles and a hangy out tongue. The owner was close at hand and assured me that the dog was friendly – good as gold – just like him, dammit. I was past before his words registered. Was this man suggesting in his friendly, jokey way that if he had not been so good then he might have behaved differently towards me? At no time did I feel threatened, but I was disturbed that this stranger saw fit to offer me what I think he saw as a complement by suggesting that I was in some way attractive enough to attack.

I have read articles in the media that disturb me in much the same way. They suggest that, if a woman chooses to dress in short skirts and low cut tops, then she cannot blame a man for raping her. If I were a man then I would be deeply insulted by this suggestion. Even if attracted to a woman, men will not generally feel an uncontrollable urge to commit rape.

When I was a teenager I used to like to wear short skirts. I did not favour the barely there, belt style, micro minis but rather a mid thigh length, straight skirt worn with thick tights and flat boots. My dad hated this look and told me that it did not suit me. I am not sure if this was because he did not like the short skirts or if he simply thought that they did not flatter me. As I have always had chunky legs in proportion to the rest of my body this may well have been true but was really beside the point. I wore the skirts because I enjoyed wearing them; end of argument.

I still have this attitude to clothes and I still have chunky legs. When I wear skirts and dresses that end a few inches above the knee I am not trying to look sexy or attractive, I just like these clothes. I dress in outfits that I enjoy wearing and neither want nor expect to attract attention. Given my advancing age I sometimes think that I should conform a little more, but then decide that this is not necessary; it is my body and I will dress as I like. If others think my style unattractive or unflattering then I can live with that. I don’t really expect to be noticed and I am comfortable with the way that I dress.

On my journey into town yesterday I was wearing trackies and a hoody (another look unlikely to flatter but very practical for a walk) so nobody could accuse me of trying to attract attention. I can only think that the man who made the comments noted that I was a woman alone on a deserted stretch of footpath between fields. I wonder if he thought that I was vulnerable. Once again the media promotes caution amongst women, suggesting that they do not go out alone for fear of attack. A lone woman is cast as a potential victim.

I am not going to live my life expecting to be victimised. When we read of a woman being attacked we should remember that large numbers travel freely and safely on a regular basis without coming to any harm. Most men are not assailants. There are some of course; it is possible to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and to be unlucky, but this is rare. I will not live my life behind locked doors nor view every strange man as an assaulter just because the media stirs up fear to gain attention.

Having a teenage daughter I have to be careful of the advice that I give her on this subject. With her tall, willowy figure she looks fabulous in whatever outfit she chooses be it short skirts and strappy tops or jeans and a t shirt. When she goes out with her friends I advise her to travel with the pack and to keep her mobile phone to hand but I do not ban her from going alone to a meet up point. It would be impractical and unfair to stop her from going out or to suggest that I should accompany her every time. I have to allow her to gain her independence even if I do worry about her every step of the way. The simple precautions that can be taken to deal with ‘stranger danger’ are one thing but warning her against all men is too much of a sweeping condemnation of an entire gender. I have sons too.

I would be devastated if my daughter were attacked (and would be none too pleased if it happened to me) but I would also be devastated if she were run over by a car. I will not ban her from crossing roads and I will not ban her from going out to socialise. What I will do is to ensure that she understands the potential dangers and knows how to take steps to avoid them. I will trust the boys that she is friends with to treat her with respect and will not assume that they mean to harm her for their own gratification.

While people accept the premise that a girl who dresses provocatively deserves her fate if she is subsequently assaulted, the myth of a man’s inability to control his actions will be accepted and perpetuated. The sexist jokes will continue and the weaker men will absolve themselves of responsibility. All of us, male and female, need to take responsibility for what we do, but how we choose to dress shouldn’t come into it. Our conversation and actions are the indicators of how we wish to proceed. It is those that should be noted and, with the participants consent, may be acted on.

P1010200