Know this.
By: Dilrukshi Fonseka
Tags: Sexual Harassment

I was in Kandy over a weekend in March. After visiting the Dalada Maligawain the evening, I decided to take the scenic route around the lake back to where I was staying. Traffic was teeming on Dalada Veediya. The pedestrian path around the lake was spotted with half-finished construction rigs, so I meandered between the walkway and the grass closer to the water. I came across other walkers and the occasional duck, making their way home.

When I first saw you, you were a typical young man ambling in the opposite direction. As you walked towards me, I angled my body to let you pass. Then you reached out, viciously groped my breasts, and ran. I froze. Then I screamed. Then I ran after you. As you turned in surprise, I pushed you down onto the ground and lobbed my camera bag at you several times. You picked yourself up and ran into the night.At a safe distance from my anger and flailing arms, you turned back one last time, held my gaze for a split second, and shrugged. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but deliberate enough to tell me this. It was no big deal Akka; you just overreacted. Also, I’m getting away with it again.

In my line of work, I constantly think about why people choose violence. I also think about what persuades people to pick up new attitudes and behaviours different from how they habitually operate. I’ve been frustrated by campaigns that preach to the converted and don’t measure impact beyond catchy hashtags and how good it makes donors feel.

Today, for what it’s worth, I’m going to try talking to you and others like you. There are a few things I’d like all of you to know.

I was in Kandy visiting the woman who had looked after us as children. We had spent our morning catching up over Maalu Paanat Devon Bakery and ourafternoon at the Dalada Maligawa. I love that place. There’s something about the smell of coconut oil and the sight of barefooted worshippers that stirs my own (maybe ironically) Christian faith. I had seen her off to the bus halt, and that’s when I decided to take that walk. I want you to know that I had a story before our encounter. I am a person, with a name and a full life. Yes, I am also someone’s daughter, sister, girlfriend and mother. But that’s not your business. My value doesn’t lie in my relationship to someone else, least of all, in my potential kinship to you. I am someone. Know that.

I think about why you did it. There was nothing about that moment that was sexual. I’ll never reach out and grope a man, expose myself to a man, masturbate in front of a man, or sexually assault a man. But each of these things has happened to me at least once. I’m not going to put it down to your maleness. You did it because you felt entitled to it and because you knew you’d get away with it. You’ve been raised in a culture that’s told you that men initiate and women submit. You live in a society with few or no consequences for violence against the ‘less powerful’. I have a son. I’m only sharing that to say that I am constantly finding ways to teach him not to use his power, whether it comes from physical strength, gender, ethnicity, class or education, to make someone else feel less. Since our little encounter, I am even more determined to raise a different ‘male’ to the one I met in Kandy that evening. Know that.

I think about how I reacted. If you knew my story, you’d know that wasn’t typical. I never react impulsively leave alone physically. But I snapped that day. My anger uncoiled and bit. I wasn’t doing it in self-defence. I did it in retaliation. See the thing is it’s happened to me before, and it will probably happen to me again. It keeps happening to my friends. I read about it happening to other women. I was reacting for events past and future. I was reacting on behalf of my group. I apologise for hammering you. My parents didn’t raise me that way. As much as I’d like to believe in my upper arm strength, I likely barely left a mark on you. But I hope you’ll remember that I didn’t let it pass. I didn’t ignore it and keep walking as countless of us do countless times. Even if you don’t change, even if bystanders don’t come to help us, even if this country won’t enforce penalties, we will start reacting. Know that.

Remember my face. I can’t remember yours. Know this too.

March 2019.