dealing with discomfort

i was recently in a situation where i was extremely uncomfortable. to make a long story short, i was talking with a man (or trying to, as he was speaking gujarati and i was speaking english,) and he touched me inappropriately. very inappropriately. after i shouted NO, i slammed the door in his face.

i felt angry and frustrated and embarrassed and hurt. i shared the story with pratima, my friend and coworker. she asked a couple of questions in her broken english to make sure she understood what happened. and then "chelo." let's go. pratima, sunita (another coworker,) and i walked down the street to find the man or to find my neighborhood's president to whom we would report the incident.

we didn't have far to go before we spotted the man. he sweeps my streets and we have always exchanged friendly hellos and kem-chos (how are you in gujarati.) this time wasn't so friendly. before i knew it, pratima was on him, all her 80 pounds, kicking him, hitting him, ripping his shirt. a friend of hers, a young guy who helps the office with their wiring, was nearby and, upon hearing what had happened, jumped in, delivering a couple of serious slaps to the guy's face.

i didn't know quite what to make of this. i have watched people stone someone before - the man was a driver who had caused a crash and killed people. an unbelievably horrible thing to watch, much more so than what happened this morning. and yet this morning was also painfully complex for me. i know that this is inappropriate behavior. these small things enrage me just as much as blatant disregard for treating women with respect. i should be made to feel uncomfortable because i'm a woman? no part of that is okay. and there is still another part of me that feels badly. i feel bad that this guy, someone who obviously doesn't have much, now has one less shirt to wear. i feel bad that he was publicly humiliated (even as i know what he did was wrong, that he wasn't actually hurt, and there weren't that many people around.)

but perhaps what really gets to me is something far more simple. i now question someone whom i once thought was kind and genuine. and that, quite simply, makes me very very sad.