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Parker, Ria, The Train Incident Report


Ria Parker
Age: 17, Grade: 12

School Name: Harlem C Z Promise Academy Ii, New York, NY
Educator: Amara Thomas

Category: Poetry

The Train Incident Report

Tuesday, April 9, 2019                                                                                                                                                 7:35 AMName: Anonymous                         #3 Train nearing 116th street
Age: 16                                                                                                                                                                        Female
Sexual Harassment
I was on my way to school. I was holding a white paper bag in my hand that held my breakfast. I’m wearing my school uniform—khaki pants, black shoes, and my Olive green Michael Kors jacket. Underneath the jacket is my navy blue school fleece jacket and underneath that is my white button-up shirt. I’m waiting to get off at my stop at 125th. 
 This man.
Dark skin, tall, bald-headed with a flat cardboard that resembles one a flat screen tv would come in, in his hands and in front of his knees. He sits to the left of me while I stand in front of the door.
This man looks normal.
Doesn’t seem nor smells drunk. Doesn’t look high. Doesn’t have an odor. Black clothing and presentable. Doesn’t scream danger to the typical person.
     As the train is about to approach 116th, this man says “excuse me”. I make a horseshoe-like move to the door opposite of me since the man is going to get off. This man. 
Standing now says “excuse me”. I already moved so he is probably going to ask for directions. As I start to look towards him, he leans down close to me and says/ask “Can I eat your pussy.”
This man holds a smirk on his face as if
 he just did something worthy. 
This man was a grown man.
This man knew I was 16.
 This man knew it was wrong. 
This man exits the train before I have a chance to react. 

Shock fills my face. I text my mom that I’m scared and then I text my friends. I look at the passengers. I know they heard this man say this comment. Shock is on their faces as well. I look at this black woman on the train with the black bonnet who was there when I first got on the train. She looks around her late 20s-early 30s. She has a disgusted look on her face and can see right through me. She asks if I was okay. All I can do is nod and then turn away to look down.
Tears start to come down my face.
I was not okay. 
For this man had caused me humiliation. 
For this man is a coward. 
For this man has violated me when I’m young enough to be his daughter and possibly even granddaughter. 
I text both my mom and my friends what had happened.

The doors close at 116 and the train starts to move again. I hear the black woman that asked if I was okay talking to another black woman, they weren’t even friends, but I hear them talk about this disgusting man and I hear the words grandfather. 
The train doors open at 125th and I with tears in my eyes, get out of that train cart to walk to school.
I run to school even though
I know this man
was in the wrong and wasn’t going to follow me since he got off already.
But it didn’t help that his words were the ghost that creeped up your skin to haunt my spirit.
It didn’t help that his words rung 

I get to school and to my locker and I’m crying. My two friends come to me and ask what happened. I tell them to read the group chat and they do. We go up the stairs to our first class together. 

I start to calm down but those five words are in my head. “Can I eat your pussy?” 
This man probably preys on girls, Can I eat your pussy. women and goes back to his family or to his job as if shit ain’t even happen. Can. I. Eat. Your. Pussy. This man made five canieatyourpussy seconds last like a decade. I wish I could have said some mean shit to this man. 

To this pedophile, when he asked if he could eat my pussy I wish I said:

  1. No
  2. Hell No
  3. Fuck No
  4. Hell to the fucking no
  5. Can you repeat all that shit again so I can record you and have proof to get you arrested?
  6. Get your bald-headed pedophile looking piece of shit out of here because I’m 16 and you’re a grown ass man—I mean coward. Because real men don’t treat others as property. Real men aren’t perverts. Real men aren’t cowards when they are in the wrong. 

    To this pedophile, when he asked if he could eat my pussy, I wish I could

  1. Hit you with my umbrella that was clutched in my hand so I can knock some common sense and respect into you
  2. Push you down the train tracks
  3. Strangle you until the humiliation I felt was on you and until you saw God telling you to go to hell. 
  4. Give you the death stare instead of turning away from you once you made that perverted comment.

But I chose not to and I couldn’t

  1. Because of the shock
  2. Because I was hoping another passenger would put you in your place 
  3. Because disrespecting your ego would make me a threat
  4. Because you’re the type of man who thinks a girl/woman wants them just by a simple stare
  5. Because you’re the one uncle, parents tell their children to stay away from—and in that case, you should already be in prison—but I guess not because you only prey on black girls like myself and nobody cares. And you were taught to be this way
  6. I didn’t tell him off because this poem probably, most likely, wouldn’t have been written if I did. 

But despite all of this… I bet you will still tell boys that they will be boys 
I bet you will still 
raise your daughters
 but baby your sons and 
place them in that box titled “Entitlement”.
I bet that we will still see sex as an
 Uncomfortable topic
 to talk about but
 not too uncomfortable
 to watch or do even if it’s unrealistic or is
 being done by force.