A Worm in My Salad
The weather here is wonderful right now. The sun is smiling down benevolently on everyone, and the absence of noticeable humidity makes it an easy sunshine to enjoy. No matter how nice the day, however, chores need doing, so yesterday afternoon found me in the local grocery store buying the items needed to prepare dinner. I was coming to the end of an aisle when a man and his wife appeared, coming into the same aisle.
He was pushing the cart, she was walking an appropriate two paces behind him. Clad in black from head to toe, the only part visible of her was a small area of face that included her eyes. I was wearing mid-thigh-length shorts and a short-sleeve tee, summer apparel I have worn all my life here in my home city. He stopped his cart and stared openly at me. Starting at my eyes, he swept his gaze down to my legs and then sneered, an openly unpleasant, confrontational look.
I continued to walk past him, saying nothing, but the feeling inside was the same as when you start eating and then find a worm in your salad. It has been my experience that an individual such as that ignoramus is not someone to exchange words with, since they are often several cards short of a full deck. They are unpredictably likely to present more problem than is worth attempting to handle. I walked away, but I was seething. Toronto is my home, and I have lived here since my birth. I have dressed as my culture declares it is acceptable to dress for decades now. What business has he to come here to my city and bring with him his intolerance and misogyny? What right is it of his to use his backward standards to judge me? He is coming to a land where another culture other than his dark ages one is dominant. If he is unable to acculturate, he should get the hell out of here and crawl back under the rock whence he came.
To him and all the misogynists like him, wanting to bring intolerance to my country ... fuck you.
He was pushing the cart, she was walking an appropriate two paces behind him. Clad in black from head to toe, the only part visible of her was a small area of face that included her eyes. I was wearing mid-thigh-length shorts and a short-sleeve tee, summer apparel I have worn all my life here in my home city. He stopped his cart and stared openly at me. Starting at my eyes, he swept his gaze down to my legs and then sneered, an openly unpleasant, confrontational look.
I continued to walk past him, saying nothing, but the feeling inside was the same as when you start eating and then find a worm in your salad. It has been my experience that an individual such as that ignoramus is not someone to exchange words with, since they are often several cards short of a full deck. They are unpredictably likely to present more problem than is worth attempting to handle. I walked away, but I was seething. Toronto is my home, and I have lived here since my birth. I have dressed as my culture declares it is acceptable to dress for decades now. What business has he to come here to my city and bring with him his intolerance and misogyny? What right is it of his to use his backward standards to judge me? He is coming to a land where another culture other than his dark ages one is dominant. If he is unable to acculturate, he should get the hell out of here and crawl back under the rock whence he came.
To him and all the misogynists like him, wanting to bring intolerance to my country ... fuck you.
2 Comments:
My wish for such losers -- they arrive at an Amazonian heaven.
What a toad. I wish that would have been me instead of you. Years ago, when I lived in Lebanon, I had sort of the same experience. It was so hot one day and I was going to the beach. I walked down out of my building in shorts and a tank top. This little freak with a beard gave me a dirty look and started cursing me in Arabic only he thought I could not hear him. I heard him and I let loose on him in Arabic. I called him a loser, hypocrite (why look if you are not supposed too?), neanderthal, disgusting pig etc. Then I let him have it over his appearance. I told him that much the same way my appearance offended him, his offended me. He never did say a word to me again. Never.
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