Guest Post-Mortem: I dreaded men standing up for me in public. This guy changed my mind.

a guest post by Kate Alexandria

I partied alone a lot in my early 20s, for better and for worse. If you’re a woman or fem-read person, it probably won’t surprise you to hear that my tendency to frequently drink solo meant I dealt with a lot of harassment – groping, gross comments, the works. So theoretically, it sounds like it’d be a good thing whenever a man called out this behavior from one of his fellow dudebros, right? 

Nope. I watched too many men unnecessarily, awkwardly escalate situations in the name of supposed chivalry or even try to “nice guy” their own way into my pants after ‘saving me’ from creepy comments or handsy jerks at bars and parties. 

But credit where credit is due – one man not only proved me wrong about this curse of bystander intervention; he profoundly changed how I think about standing up for people to this day. I feel like everyone should follow the example of this nameless stranger the next time they see a woman getting harassed in public – something that still happens so fucking frequently that I guarantee this advice will come in handy at least once or twice.  

If I could bottle up an example of “how to be an ally 101,” it would be this moment. Let’s break down why this situation was so quietly revolutionary.  

The Set-Up:

Time: Early February 2020, on a visit back to Chicago, where I had lived for several years after college before moving back to California. 

Setting: I slid into a bar in Lincoln Park, deciding to have a nightcap in a warm neighborhood tavern instead of waiting 20 minutes for the bus outside in the frigid weather. It was pretty packed, but I sat at the far end of the bar, one seat away from two admittedly wasted-looking guys. I ordered a beer and settled in. 

The Incident:

• The two drunk guys immediately started making lewd comments and ignored my requests to leave me alone. One tried to touch my hand and I batted him away, but the other laughed and slid his hands up my thighs and squeezed. 

• I walked to the other end of the bar and pulled the bartender, a woman, aside to tell her what happened. Specifically, that the two visibly drunk guys were sexually harassing and groping me actively and needed to knock it off and be asked to leave the bar.

The Intervention:  

• The bartender’s response. She insisted on grabbing my things for me from where the drunk assholes were sitting, seating me at her end of the bar, offering platitudes and a free shot of whiskey. For all my bluster, I was upset and in shock, and I almost took the shot and just shut up about everything. But then, a man sitting next to my new seat who had overheard our conversation intervened and firmly said to the bartender: “that’s not what she asked for.”

• The impact of my unexpected ally and his words of wisdom. The bartender visibly flushed and muttered about how she would say something to the gropers, retreating away from us quickly. It was like a spell lifted. I shook my head and realized that no, I had not asked for a free shot, I had asked for the bartender to take action to protect customers from blatant sexual misconduct. I turned to the man and thanked him for speaking up for me, embarrassed I had almost gotten carried away. He almost refused the credit at all – “it was nothing. Those guys are regulars and they’re like this all the time, she should know better.” True enough, I watched and waited for the bartender to kick them out or even reprimand them, but they continued to order unimpeded instead. The depressing reality began to set in, but so did a sense of determination thanks to the mindful, intentional intervention of the man next to me. As my bus began to approach, I took the shot, thanked him again, and on my way out the door, shouting what had happened, temporarily quieting a good chunk of the room and leaving them to marinate in awkwardness. If the bartender wasn’t going to do anything, I would – and I felt empowered, buzzed on solidarity and that one free shot.

What Worked: 

• Awareness & Mindfulness. If you’re in an uncomfortable or threatening situation – like being harassed – trauma and social conditioning make it easy to fall into a bit of a survival haze, going along with things you normally wouldn’t or making decisions you normally wouldn’t make. It’s an extraordinarily psychologically vulnerable time, even if it isn’t your first rodeo. Women and femmes are conditioned to not make a scene, to just let things go. Even while standing up for myself, I got caught up in the current and nearly went along with the bartender hushing things up. This man’s simple perspective stuck with me and grounded me in the present. He turned mindful listening into a subtle superpower.

• Respecting My Lead. He went with the flow and matched my energy and tolerance level. He didn’t go down to the end of the bar and dump a pitcher of beer on those guys to “defend my honor,” he didn’t start yelling or escalate the situation beyond what I wanted. He watched the situation carefully and elevated my voice, leaving the rest up to me. 

Takeaway Lessons For The Road: 

• If somebody comes to you and tells you about inappropriate behavior, don’t just offer them alcohol about it, for starters. Listen to what they’re saying. 

• Respect their tone and lead. If they’re not yelling and causing a scene, don’t start one yourself. If you aren’t sure what they want or what their vibe is, ask them. Their autonomy should be the center of whatever action you take.

  

• If you overhear or witness harassment, pay attention to what the impacted person is saying and doing–and what others say to them. Watch out for people when they come forward, because not everyone will have their best interests at heart. It sounds cheesy, but this random man's approach empowered me – a lesson I think more people can afford to learn when they consider how they want to be allies.

Recommendations:

• For good trouble: “Viral Justice” by Ruha Benjamin – for more creative ideas about how to be an ally & friend to justice in every situation, big and small. 

• For poetry: “The Specimen’s Apology” by George Abraham–queer, unapologetic, genius. 

• For a bookstore in Los Angeles: Stories in Echo Park. They have tea, coffee, and booze, too.

• For a mocktail you can feel fancy serving this summer: balsamic vinegar, honey/agave, cherry or blackberry sparkling water. (If anybody makes this, call it Tay’s Drink. I miss you, dear friend.)  

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  Kate Alexandria is being held hostage in an uncooperative body on a dystopian planet. Currently, she’s posted up living her good, bad, and weird life in Altadena, California. She is a writer, journalist and organizer who makes the most out of the constant barrage of WTF moments in this timeline by cultivating empathy and sharing honest, complex experiences — especially on issues related to sexual assault survivors, disability, and LGBTQ rights. You might’ve also seen her work in KnockLA, HuffPo Personal, Women’s Media Center FBomb, or The Ability Toolbox. You can find all of the antics and subscribe to her future rantings at her portfolio, kfreddiea.com. She also has a Twitter, @kfreddiea, that she is sometimes consistent about being active on and sometimes not.

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  Say hi to my new Managing Editor for Post-Mortem, Farah Faye! She is the host of the Scrappy Reading Series, and is an emerging writer living in Brooklyn, NY with her husband and cat. She holds an MFA in Creative Nonfiction from Spalding University and her work has appeared in Business Insider, Medium, and her Substack, art monster magazine. You can find her on Instagram @whoisfarahfaye and @scrappyreadingseries.