Part D of the Predator and Prey chapter happens to be published on the day Canadians remember what is known as the Montreal Massacre that occurred December 6, 1989. Thirty years ago today, a gunman entered Ecole Polytechnique and killed fourteen female engineering students in what had been recorded previously as a “tragic event” and is now recorded as an “anti-feminist attack”, an attack against women. This post is dedicated to everyone who was and continues to be impacted by that attack, as well as to any female who has been attacked by a man. This is not an anti-male post, it is a pro-feminist post. My heart goes out to all women and to all men who identify as feminists, which I have come to understand means equality for all sexes and, I will add, for all genders. 

Part D completes the trilogy of my physical attacks, or sexual assaults, that occurred in the year 1990.

 Story #1: No consent 

During the days of touring the Greek islands my sister and I connected with other young travellers from all parts of the world. Remember that this was before common use of the internet and cell phones, so our connections were made on trains or in hostels and then kept up when we ran into each other in the cafes or on the beach. Addresses were put into notebooks with the promise of connecting when back home. Loose plans were tossed around on trains and ferries as we hopped from island to island. I am sure as a cohort we were most annoying to the local residents. Anyway, it was on one of these islands – one that had a party reputation – where my sister interrupted what she describes now as attempted rape. 

Two of the men whom we chummed around with sporadically were Rick and Mike. They were both American university students – one from Oregon and one from Virginia. My sister recalls not liking one of them much, felt he was too much of a “frat boy”. I have both their addresses from that time in my travel diary as well as photos with them and some of the other people we hung around with. We met up with a group, including the two American students, at an outdoor café for an evening that was going to start with food followed by dancing at one of the many nightclubs, or basically halls with loud music and bad booze. You could bring your own alcohol to the café which helped with the travel budget; I enjoyed my share of the cheap red wine we’d brought. I am still a “light drunk”; one or two drinks can affect me quickly, especially if I am also dehydrated or hungry which I likely was most of the time while vacationing through Europe. My sister reminded me recently that I rarely drunk at that time, whether on vacation or when at home, likely because of my anorexia. I also didn’t do any drugs, but that’s for another chapter.

That evening I did not make it past the appetizers and knew I had to go lie down as was feeling very drunk. Mike must have offered to escort me back to the room my sister and I had rented; I recall him walking me back – actually I have a photo – and us entering the room and him maneuvering me to my bed. I don’t remember anything more until my sister entered the room and told him to leave. I remember thinking that he must have been looking after me and now that she was there and would take over the caretaking. However, he had been been helping himself to me, as my sister recalls, rather than helping me.

My sister describes leaving the café shortly after Mike and I had, almost by instinct, she says, because she got a bad feeling. She entered our room to see me passed out and him kissing and undressing me. She says she felt disgusted by him. The image makes me sick. I am thankful that she followed her instinct. I am sad that one of our friends turned out to be a creep. I am thankful that all of the other people, male and female, we hung out with during our travels were not creeps, or predators. There was only one, that we knew of.

I don’t remember us talking about the incident then, but she thinks that may be why we left that party island after only two days, to get away from Mike. I thought it was because the landlady “evicted” us that morning due to my vomiting on the floor! 

At the time we were all university students on summer vacation and heading back to grown-up lives where our lives with careers, family, and potential for influence over others would unfold. I went on to be a teacher. I think he was heading for a business or political career. Was it a one-time situation in a setting with too much alcohol and not enough moral constraint where poor choices were made, or did this continue to be his habitual behaviour? Or has he reflected and realized?  And with the current environment, could my story bring down his fall. Who is vulnerable now? This is not a threat, this is a reality of then and now and evolving social norms that include laws around consent. Obviously my sister and I didn’t think it was something we needed to report at the time, but the memory of that incident has never left us and instead left us both feeling disturbed, even three decades later. Talking and writing about it helps, for a cathartic release if nothing else.

 Story #2 A midnight walk

It was New Year’s Eve, now past midnight. I’d had a mini temper-tantrum and had stormed off from where I’d been for the evening with my sister and some friends at a nightclub close to our house; we lived in downtown Victoria, BC. I could have walked directly home – half a city block – but wanted to blow off some steam.  Anyway, I reasoned, I could walk around downtown in the middle of the night if I wanted to. My little walk was only a short distance, around the block and then through the back alley.  I used to tell this story by adding the line “I know, dumb move”.  Now I rethink that line but still think that in the interest of personal safety, whether one is female or male, it’s probably not smart to go down back alleys alone in any city in any country in the middle of the night. But I digress…

As I was walking I was alert enough to know to be aware of my surroundings – after all, I was angry, and stubborn, but not drunk. A young man about my own age was heading the same direction but on the other side of the street and about a quarter of a block back… I sensed when he crossed over to my side of the street…I didn’t change my course of action but continued down the block and turned down the alley…could have changed my route to stay on the main street where there were cars and people….but didn’t.  Immediately I regretted my decision but could not reverse that choice as he had now also turned down the alley: the only way out was forward. 

I heard his footsteps getting faster… I tensed, but kept walking, almost at my building entrance… He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around… We faced each other… He said something about relaxing, that he was just having fun. I was already so mad at the evening’s events that I had enough adrenalin to scream, “FUCK OFF” so loudly that, in his drunken state, he was momentarily startled and knocked off balance. I took that moment and bolted for the entrance without looking back.  I didn’t report it – nothing to report– just two stupid kids making poor choices, I figured at the time. I am not sure what to make of it now, except that the situation has stayed with me all these years. Where is that guy now? Did he continue to tell female strangers to relax, just to have fun?