Translator: Hiroko Kawano Reviewer: Peter van de Ven
Last fall, I was working from my laptop at a busy coffee shop in Tempe, Arizona.
I noticed a couple came next to me.
They were older,
maybe in their mid to late sixties.
And they sat at a tall, round bar table next to me.
Now, the gentleman was the quintessential grumpy old man.
And I say that because things were coming from his mouth
like "Goddamn this" and "Goddamn that"
and "This son of a bitch," so on and so forth
while his partner, a small quiet woman, sat there and shook her head.
Now, this gentleman was a large, portly fellow,
and so when he would sit at this table, it went a little something like this:
He would sit with his stomach to about here,
and when he would turn to the table, he would hit it with his stomach,
and then he would knock the napkins and his phone to the floor.
And this happened about three times,
and each time it happened,
his exclamations of "Son of a bitch" and "God dammit, Marie"
got louder and louder.
Now, let me remind you
this was a busy coffee shop.
It is a weekday morning,
and the line for coffee is almost out the door.
But this angry gentleman didn't care.
He was so upset about his "goddamn table"
that he busted in front of the line to the front counter
so he could yell at the baristas
to tell them they needed to get new "goddamn tables,"
and he demanded that his drinks be free to compensate for his grief.
At this point, everybody's kind of shocked:
I'm seeing some dropped jaws; I'm seeing wide eyes.
But no one really knows what to do with this angry, aggressive yelling man.
And so while all this is happening,
I'm keeping my eye on his partner, Marie.
And she's waiting in the wings, and I can tell by her body language
that she's getting pretty embarrassed.
And I also watch as she cautiously made her way to the front by her partner
and she begins to plead with him.
"Bob, stop, please. It's okay, it's okay. Just sit down, it's okay."
Now, Bob did not like this
and directly into Marie's face, he screams, "No, no, Marie, no.
It's not okay, it's not okay.
You dumb bitch, just sit down and shut the fuck up."
"You dumb bitch, just sit down and shut the fuck up."
I think that most of us can agree
that the terms "dumb bitch" and "shut the fuck up"
should not be said to anyone, let alone your partner.
And let me remind you this is not in hushed tones,
this is not behind closed doors;
this is in broad daylight in a public space
with at least 20 sets of eyes and ears watching and listening.
And that was horrifying.
And poor Marie -
Marie backed down, went back to her chair and sat in silence in defeat.
And it's in that moment that I feel for Marie.
And I feel for Marie because I've been Marie.
I know what it's like to be at a complete loss as to what to do
because you're so scared of what your partner will say or do next
or what they're going to make you suffer later
if you question them in any way shape or form.
And then, when something like this happens in public
and you feel awkward and embarrassed and you don't know what to do,
and everybody watching feels awkward and embarrassed
and they don't know what to do -
I mean it's all just - it's lonely, and it's alienating,
and it's completely disempowering.
And it is those times when if anybody needs a hero,
it is in empty and fearful moments like that.
About a week before all this went down,
my friend Elena had been walking down a busy street in Paris
when a man came up behind her and grabbed her by the crotch,
and she struggled to get away with him -
or not with him: from him -
for what must have seemed like forever,
but finally, she was able to free herself and get to safety.
Now, later that day, she posted about her experience on Facebook.
And the one thing she said
was that the thing she was the most upset about
was not that this man had attacked her
but it was that no one did anything.
No one.
Now, this was not in a dark alley at 3:00 a.m. with no one around.
This was in the middle of the day on a busy street with hundreds of people,
yet no one did anything.
No one.
Now, I remember reading her story at home and just thinking to myself,
"This is so nuts.
How could people not do anything?"
But, like Marie,
I can relate to Elena and her story all too well.
Years ago, I remember sitting in my car with my then-partner.
We were parked at a Walmart parking lot.
And he was on one of his daily tirades against me,
informing me and letting me know that I understood how selfish I was,
how ugly I was, how fat and unsexy, and how unmotivating I was
and that there was nothing about me
that he could even be proud enough to present me as his girlfriend to anybody.
And on this particular day,
I remember just crying and trying to get through it,
and I was fixating on the clock on the dash.
I remember it going from about 4 o'clock
to 4:13 to 4:37 to 5:00
to 5:25 to about 6 o'clock.
And the whole time, he's still going.
And while all this is happening, we're in a parking lot.
So people are parking alongside of us getting in and out of their cars,
and they look at us.
I see them looking at me.
And even though I couldn't say anything,
I remember in my head silently pleading,
"Please help me. Please stop this."
But no one stopped.
And no one stopped any other time.
And you're probably wondering,
"Well, girl, why didn't you just open the door and get out of the car?"
For me, at that point in my relationship with him,
I was so beaten down, and I was caught in the cycle of self-loathing and sadness,
and honestly, I kind of believed him.
I kind of believed the things he said about me.
Because in my head, I thought,
"Well, if this man loves me and he's telling me these things,
there has to be some little bit of truth in it.
So maybe I kind of deserve this."
And so, I never opened the car door, and I was always just left with him.
So because I have these experiences
that I could relate to Marie and relate to Elena,
maybe that's why I did what I did next.
So, fast forward
to where Bob has yelled at Marie and they are now sitting.
I decided, "I have had enough of Bob,
and I'm going to tell him what is on my mind."
(Laughter)
Now, let me tell you, though,
I was super scared and I was really frightened.
But for me -
because of my experiences, and because I got it -
not doing anything was not a choice for me.
And so, partly shielded from my laptop,
take a quick breath,
and I'm able to get out, "Hey."
OK, that was nowhere near loud enough that I needed to be at.
(Laughter)
And Bob didn't hear me.
He didn't turn around.
And the reality is he's a little bit older,
so I might need to speak up.
So I try again.
And this time I take a deeper breath, and now it's like exhale,
I feel like I'm pressing my fear down,
and then, from somewhere deep inside of me comes this almost yell,
"Hey Mister!"
And it was about that loud - I am not kidding you -
but he definitely heard me that time, and he whips around in complete shock.
And I can see, over his shoulder,
Marie looks as -
the only way I can describe it -
is in fear and disbelief.
So, Bob and I are making contact.
We are staring at each other for a couple of seconds,
when he finally kind of relaxes,
and then, he chuckles.
And as he turns away from me, he defiantly mutters,
"I can talk to her any way I want."
I'm sorry, what?
You think that you can talk to her any way you want?
It was like all feeling and thought just left my head
and everything just went red, red, red, red.
I was pissed.
(Sigh)
And I become -
I'm just lost in emotion, mostly anger.
(Laughter)
And then, I become lost in thought.
And I time-travel.
And I time-travel back to the moment
where I had had enough of my then-abusive partner.
Now, I remember this day vividly.
He was going on about someone he was upset with -
shocker -
and I was trying to participate in the conversation and say something.
And the next few moments just went by really slowly.
It was the kind of slow where a second feels like a minute.
I remembered the air coming out of my lungs,
traveling up my windpipe,
and it's about to pass over my lips so I can begin to utter sound.
And before I can even begin to speak a word,
he's yelling at me.
He is telling me
he's sick of me lying all the time
and that I didn't know what I was talking about anyway.
I hadn't even said anything,
and already he is putting me down and berating me,
literally for nothing.
On a usual day, I would've kept quiet and I would've backed down
and I would've waited for him to be done.
But that day, that was different for me.
And the only way I can describe it is that this wall of fear
that had kept me and held me back from standing up for so many times
when I should have for myself
was gone.
It had vanished.
And even though at this point, I felt that I had lost so much of myself,
that wall of fear was replaced with a small sliver of the old Dahli.
The old Dahli that was confident and take no shit from anybody,
that was going to come up attitude blazing and step in and be ready for the fight.
Now, all this time that I was with him, I don't know where she was hiding
but I am glad that she showed up
because this guy was scary.
In the time I had been with him,
I had learned so much about him and his history
and things that he had done
that I had a right to be scared.
But at this point, that did not matter, because how I was living my life -
which was in constant fear and sadness and doubt -
that's not living.
And so, instead of choosing silence that day,
I chose me and I chose these words:
"I don't like how you treat me.
You make me feel bad about myself,
and I feel disrespected, and I feel unloved.
You don't get to talk to me like that anymore."
And it is eerie.
How similar his reaction was to Bob's.
Now, he was a bigger guy.
And I remember him getting really close to me,
inches from my face,
and telling me,
"I can talk to you any way I want."
And I was scared, I remember trembling,
but I knew that by confronting him,
I had just firmly placed both feet in Pandora's box
and it was too late now.
I could not pull back.
I had no choice but to be all-in for me
because I wanted to get me back.
And there was no one else in that room that was going to choose me, but me.
And so I said to him
what I'd been so scared to say for so long:
"No.
No, you don't, because I am done."
I had had enough.
I had enough of constant fear,
I had enough of all the self-doubt,
I had enough of being a victim, and I wanted me back.
But for that to happen,
I had to be enough for myself.
And this is a really hard thing to do.
It is easier said than done.
Especially if you have been living your life like this for so long,
there's a lot of fear in choosing an unknown and different future.
Because sometimes the devil you know
seems a heck of a lot safer than the devil that you don't.
And then that day, I chose the devil that was a stranger.
And that choice ended up being very scary,
very painful, very humbling.
And it's -
Making that choice is really hard.
Right?
I mean, it's a series of choices you're making,
and it is a long hard road, and it especially seems more arduous
if you feel like you're doing it by yourself.
So when Marie backed down to Bob,
I didn't blame her.
Because if that is what he was like in public,
I cringe to think what he would be like behind closed doors.
I had no idea what he was like.
And honestly, I don't know Marie's story.
I don't know why she chose the devil that she knew.
Because it's complicated.
Life and emotion
and the human experience are all messy and complex,
but what I do know
is that when I think of my own experiences,
and when I think of Elena and I think of all the other stories
of people needing someone
to step in and say the truth and be an advocate
when someone could not for themselves -
No, I was not going to allow this behavior
to happen in front of me.
I was not going to bear witness
and enable Bob
and his shitty words and actions.
So, come back to the moment where Bob has taken time to inform me
that he can talk to Marie any way he wants.
In this next moment,
I felt that I said for Marie what Marie could not say for herself.
"No. Actually, you don't, Sir.
And Ma'am, I hope you know that too."
Part of me wondered if I made things worse for her by saying anything.
Would she have to deal with Bob's anger from interacting with me that day?
Maybe.
But there's a bigger part of me that remembered all of the times
when someone needed someone else to step in and be the momentary hero
and disrupt the cycle.
They don't need someone
who is just going to be an audience member and bearing witness
and not doing anything because it's not their business.
I wasn't going to do that.
Because what about Elena?
And then what about Marie?
And what about me?
I looked at Bob and Marie from my laptop,
and I'm trying to stay still, but I am almost shaking
because I have so much adrenaline running through my body.
And Bob?
Bob was furious,
face bright red, and he stands up -
I didn't know what was going to happen -
but instead of doing anything to me,
he decided to walk out of the coffee shop with Marie trailing after him.
So these stories that I've just shared with you,
they're not full of sunshine and rainbows,
and if anything,
you might be feeling disappointed and bummed out by people right now.
And I get it. I really do.
But I share these stories with you for a reason.
And it is because I am real and my experiences are real.
Elena is real and Marie is real.
We are not fictional stories that you watch on your TV.
These things have happened to us,
and these things will happen to people that you probably know
and that you will come across as you live your life every day.
And so what I want you to know is this:
that you are empowered, and you are able,
and you have the right to speak up when you see something that's not right.
And when that time comes,
I don't know what that's going to look like for you.
Because maybe you'll be able to say something directly, like I did to Bob.
Or maybe you won't feel safe,
and you'll end up telling someone next to you
or talking to a manager or talking to the cops.
I don't know what that's going to look like for you.
But what I can tell you
is that doing something
is a heck of a lot better than doing nothing.
Because I think what people forget
is that silence and inaction scream volumes.
So, if you're sitting there wondering, "I still don't know if I could,"
then please hear me when I say this to you,
is that "Yes, you can.
You are an able-bodied person
that has an innate sense of what is right / is wrong.
And you are empowered,
and you have the right to speak up
and say when enough is enough.
Thank you.
(Applause)