I wasn’t in fear until you protected me

One time I went to a party. I biked through town to get there, I felt safe on my way through the streets. At the party they had security. They only let some people in.

I had fun at the party. It was late afternoon. I’d had a drink or two. I got ready to head home. I passed by the guards at the door. I got on my bike.

On the way home I was scared. Clearly I needed protection and now it was gone. I was alone. On the same streets as before only now they felt different.

No one approached me. No one agressed me. I biked home as fast as I could.

Leaving that protected space made the rest of the place feel dangerous. I didn’t like that. It felt wrong. I felt I’d been manipulated. It made me mad.

Often when you feel like you need protection you find someone or something to provide that. And then little by little you start to feel like you need protection from your protection.

There’s something sinister about protecting things and people. It creates a messed up dynamic.

I prefer to feel fine on my own. A gun, a big man, a dog. None of these things create safety. They all require energy to sustain. And in the end no one is safe. It’s an illusion.

I feel safe knowing that no matter what happens I’ll deal with it. I trust me. And that’s enough.

Same streets. Same person. Two very different reactions. Sometimes the protection itself creates the threat. I don’t need a body guard. It’s like walking through the city clutching your purse. It sends a signal. It makes you a target.

I’d rather have streets we can walk freely than a guarded cage.