Inzwischen ist das Internet voll von diesem Meme.
Lustige... (https://leftycartoons.com/2024/05/22/wh ... he-forest/)
... und auch Strassenkunst (https://streetartutopia.com/2024/05/24/ ... or-a-bear/ via https://mastodon.online/@streetartutopi ... kjy=spring)
Und es gibt etliche Artikel von Frauen, die ziemlich eindrücklich erklären, dass sie in Gegewart von Männern(tm) immer auf dem Quivive(1) sind.
Weshalb ich das schreibe: Diesen Artikel hier finde ich besonders gut: "A Woman Who Left Society to Live With Bears Weighs in on "Man or Bear"". Die Autorin fährt seit Jahrzehnten alleine mit dem Rad durch die USA, hauptsächlich in freier Natur. Sie kennt also genau solche Situationen. Mit Männern, und mit Bären.
When I was 23, I packed up my bike and camping gear and caught a one-way flight to Alaska. My relationship with mankind no longer felt tenable. I didn"™t want to be female in society; I wanted to be free. [...] I"™ve always loved men. I"™ve always found it easy to get along with men, to travel with men, to befriend men. Many of the people I cherish most in this world are male. I"™ve also spent most of my life trying to extract myself from patriarchy. I"™ve had to learn how to say no to men, to protect myself from men, and get away from men in ways that have been crucial to my survival. [...] One of my favorite writers, Prentis Hemphill, wrote, "Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and me simultaneously." To love myself in patriarchy, I"™ve often had to put a lot of distance between myself and men. [...]
There is nothing wrong with men. Men are lovable people with the same capacity for empathy, agency, and growth as any other human on the gender spectrum. But when men are socialized to identify their humanness as masculinity and to associate masculinity with power, we get some real problems. These are the problems of patriarchy. The central reason why fewer women travel alone is our fear of male violence and sexual assault. Actually, the most common question I get about my travels is some version of, "Aren"™t you afraid to bike/hike/travel alone as a woman?" By naming my gender, the implication is clear. What people really mean is, "Aren"™t you afraid of men?"
And it"™s a question that"™s always been difficult for me to answer. I"™m not afraid of all men. But I am afraid of some men. The real problem is the gray area in between and what it takes to manage the murkiness of that unknown. When I"™m alone in the backcountry and come across a man, I feel a very low level of vigilance. Depending on the situation, I might even be happy to see him. [...] I don"™t feel afraid, but I am aware. As we chat, my intuition absorbs a thousand things at once. His body language. His tone. How he looks at me and interacts. Most of the time, this produces an increased sense of security. Most men are friendly, respect my boundaries, and don"™t want to hurt me. Most of the time, I feel very safe around men.
But not all the time. Sometimes, my intuition absorbs things that increase my level of vigilance. My awareness shifts into closer observation, and I look for signs of danger. Nothing is wrong, but it could go wrong very quickly. It could be something he says. Maybe he makes a comment about my body or my appearance. Or he asks if I"™m carrying a weapon and then presses for details about where I"™m camping that night. Sometimes, it"™s a shift in his tone, a leer, the way he puts his body in my space. But, usually, it"™s a combination of things, a totality of behaviors that add up to a singular reality: this man is either not aware that he"™s making me uncomfortable, or he doesn"™t care. Either way, this is the danger zone. Even if he has no intention of harming me, the outcome of that intention is no longer possible for me to assess or predict.
In this moment, my mind snaps into a single, crystalline point of focus. My intuition rises to the surface of my skin. I become a creature of exquisite perception. The world is a matrix of emotional data: visceral, clear, direct.
I need to get away from the man. But I need to do it in a way that doesn"™t anger him. This is the tricky bit. Men who lack social awareness or empathy often also lack other skills in emotional management. And usually, what men in these situations actually want is closeness. They"™re trying to get closer to me, physically or emotionally, in the only way they know how. That combination of poor emotional skillsets and a desire to get closer is exactly what puts me in danger.
If I deny his attempts at closeness by leaving or setting a boundary, he could feel frustrated, rejected, or ashamed. If he doesn"™t know how to recognize or manage those feelings, he"™s likely to experience them as anger. And then I"™m a solo woman stuck in a forest with an angry man, which is exactly what women are most afraid of.
There"™s no time to think, so I operate on instinct. My task is ridiculously complex. I need to deescalate any signs of aggression, guide the man into a state of emotional balance, and exit the situation safely, all at once. This process requires all of my attention, energy, and intellect. It"™s really hard.
I"™ve been in this position so many times that it exhausts me just to write about it. Sometimes, it"™s not that I"™m afraid of men; I"™m just really, really tired.
In patriarchal societies where masculinity is coded as power and control, men often try to get closer to women through power and control. The range of how this plays out is vast. It could be inconsequential, or it could end a woman"™s life. This is why seemingly small comments, gestures, or implications often trigger full-body vigilance. It may also be a reason why so many women in the "Man or Bear" debate chose the bear.
But lots of men were not glad; they were angry. And beneath that anger were probably lots of other feelings as well, the ones that patriarchy socializes men to mask: hurt, loss, frustration, sadness, loneliness. It"™s sad when someone you want to be close to does not want to be close to you. It"™s frustrating when you don"™t know how to get that closeness. And it"™s lonely. The angry men in this debate are very lonely men.
(1) das Wort habe ich endlich mal nachgeschlagen, weil ich mir total unsicher über die Schriebweise war. Stellt sich raus: Ist französisch: https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quivive