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Have you had a bad experience being women, that is, something you believe that having been men would not have happened to you?

Obvious. All the women  with whom i talk every day  could put their experiences here. I will tell one of mine, which I consider the most terrifying. Some compañeras and friends could make your body's hair stand up with their stories (like a high school classmate, who was raped in a telephone booth). I have had more luck.

It will be about 14 years. I had about 20 and it would be, I do not know, five in the morning. I was back on the march. Alone. Until that moment I had never been afraid of returning. My friends always told me to take a taxi, but I liked to "get clear" by walking. When I got to my street, a quite long avenue, I came across a guy and saw him turn away from his address and turn around. He got behind me. I thought it was weird, but anyway, I did not give it much importance. He kept a safe distance with me, so there was no problem. I came from dancing with the boy I liked. He was full and I laughed inwardly as I remembered his kisses and his words. Suddenly, I noticed that the distance with that guy became smaller and an alarm went on, but not the alarm of "well, they will be my things; I stop to look at a shop window and let it happen "; no, this alarm told me that something bad was going to happen, so I put my hands to my purse and looked for the keys, subtly. I took them out and with my fingers I massage them one by one until I find the portal one. There was no one else in the street and I knew that if there was a confrontation I would have to face it by myself. The distance was getting shorter and shorter and I also began to accelerate the pace. He also accelerated it. I had no other. I had to run. Physically it was much bigger; I know because when I I found him face to face with him; I was muscled (maybe that was my fault as a woman, I looked at him, I saw him, I noticed his physique). When there were two hundred meters to reach the doorway of my house, I started running, very fast (I thank you for not having put on a fine heel that night). As I was supposed to, my stalker also started running. I did not look back; I just ran, with the hand where I carried the key ahead, and also trembling. I ran very fast, opened and got into the portal. I pushed the door, which offered resistance. He had that man's face behind the glass. From that the door had outer bars and he grabbed them tightly while staring at me. Terrified, I climbed the stairs and hid myself in the mailboxes. I knew I could not get in, but I did not want him to see me. I knew that if I stayed there, in front of him, he would stay for a while licking. From the landing I heard him shake the bars. After a minute he left and I was crying in the bank of my portal. When I wanted to look for the keys to my apartment, I did not succeed; I was so nervous that they all seemed the same. Choose to ring. My mother woke up and opened me up angrily. "Again the keys!" He told me. Without a word, I hugged her, crying and my mother asked me what had happened. I told him. "Oh, daughter, what horror! It's just how you can come back alone! "Those words did not squeak at the time. Sure, how I, a woman was going to go alone walking down the street, quiet, thinking about my things. I knew that the fault was mine. Today I know no. The fault is never the one that decides to go alone, but the aggressor. Do not be fooled.

The subject was never discussed again, nor was it given any importance. It usually happens, without more. Today I would have gone to the police; uselessly, yes, but I would have gone