My two experiences of harassment

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

Yesterday, I experienced sexual harassment on the bus. Actually, I don't know if it qualifies as sexual harassment, because the person who harassed me was an elderly man. As usual, I rushed to the bus stop after work. After a fierce scramble, I was among the first to board and managed to snag a window seat, feeling secretly pleased with myself. You see, it's rush hour, and the crowds are so dense that finding a seat is incredibly difficult; normally, I'd have to stand for over an hour to get home.
I comfortably leaned back, listening to music and leisurely enjoying the scenery. Who knew that after living in Shanghai for so long, I still hadn't really gotten to know my surroundings?
Then the bus arrived at a stop, and many more people boarded, making it even more crowded. Among the passengers was an elderly man over 80 years old, swaying from side to side with the flow of people. At that moment, a strong sense of justice and morality overwhelmed me, and I gave him my seat.
Actually, I regretted it immediately afterward; there were still more than 20 stops to go home. And standing in the crowd, a stench was overwhelming, almost suffocating me.
Just then, a trembling hand touched my buttocks. I turned around and met the old man's kindly smiling gaze. I told myself he was probably just unsteady on his feet. It's okay for him to help me up; we're all grown men.
But after a while, the hand on my buttocks became increasingly restless, slowly moving downwards, even picking at it. I shuddered. Was this old man taking advantage of me? I turned around and glared at him fiercely, and he immediately withdrew his hand.
If it weren't for his advanced age, I would have slapped him.
This incident caused me to sleep poorly that night, and this morning I realized I was almost late for work. I rushed to catch the bus. Unfortunately, I encountered sexual harassment again.
I was drowsy, hanging from the handrail, when I suddenly felt something hard pressing against me from behind. I immediately realized what it was. My husband also uses that to press against me at night.
I remember reading in some magazine an anti-harassment handbook that you must know how to resist sexual harassment. I turned around and saw a handsome, refined face that was completely different from what I had imagined. A nameless fire ignited in my chest.
Did he deserve that face? With that face, he wouldn't have trouble finding a girlfriend.
In a fit of anger, I decided to teach him a lesson. So I grabbed his weapon tightly. I heard a muffled groan. Seeing his face flushed red but unable to utter a sound, I felt a surge of satisfaction. Then he threw out a single sentence, "Hmm, that felt good."
It left me dizzy and disoriented. I jumped off the bus and ran away.
From then on, I came to a conclusion: don't blindly trust any anti-sexual harassment guidelines, because sexual harassers never play by the rules.

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My two experiences of harassment

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