Not #MeToo: How I Decided To Handle Sexual Harassment

I’ve been refraining from posting a #Metoo post on Facebook for the past month even though my timeline was jam-packed with posts from literally 99% of my female friends all over the world. I never shared my stories about being catcalled or sexually harassed, not for the lack of it happening, but because I don’t like being victimized. Although it’s an absolute injustice to us women; we are victims, I just don’t like talking about it. I would read and sympathize but that was about it, I never felt a hashtag had an impact on anything really; they die out quickly.

However, I was never one to just let filthy guys harass me and go on living. I usually confront catcallers and usually I go as far as having them apologize to me. Like, if a guy harasses me on the street, I’m definitely going to cause a scene; put that asshole under the spotlight, make him rue the day he thought that having a pair of peanuts gave him the right to harass a woman. And if you live in Egypt like me, causing a scene would almost always guarantee that that trash bag gets a beating. I almost made a guy cry once and then I went on to have a lovely rest of the day. Felt good to put the little shit back into his place.

Anyway, let me get to the point, here’s what happened today.

I was driving back home and at the intersection that leads to the street where I live, a motorcycle with two guys slipped their way in front of me. And for a reason only found amusing by pigs, the guy at the back turns to me, bites his lips, winks, and gestures something horridly inappropriate with his hands. All I could do at this point was give him the usual nasty look. I’m thinking “you’re lucky you can drive off”. At this point my rage meter is at a fair 7. But apparently the little piglet wasn’t satisfied with the 7, the ferger turns his head around, leans off the bike and catcalls a school girl walking on the sidewalk to his left, as if one nuisance today wasn’t enough to satisfy his broken ego. Safe to say, my rage meter bolted straight to enraged rhinoceros.

I was a school girl once and I remember being catcalled, I remember being scared.

A dozen thoughts on how to get payback sprung to my very rational brains, none of them were as satisfying as what I did next.

Logically speaking, also legally speaking, I don’t exactly condone my behavior, BUT, I definitely do condone my behavior.

I blame my adrenaline, I also thank it.

I drove into their bike.

Little disclaimer: no one was physically harmed, two assholes just learnt a very valuable lesson; women can be scary too.