I’m 14 years old and it’s my first time roaming around the city mall without my mother at my side. I go with one of my best friends at the time. It’s summer, so we wear our best pair of shorts and tank tops, ready to have the time of our lives.
After about 15 minutes of wandering aimlessly, a man from the opposite direction passes us, muttering crazily to himself. My friend and I exchange a glance and continue chuckling about whatever was funny to 8th graders back then. I look behind my shoulder, almost instinctively, to find that same man walking behind us. Not too close, but still in the same direction. Immediately, the warning bells in my head ring furiously and I relay this to my friend as casually as possible to not draw too much attention. To make sure I was right about my suspicion, I yank her by the arm into a little toy store to our right.
Sure enough, the man saunters in slowly. We hide in one of the aisles, hearts beating rampantly, and try to think of our next move. We go to the counter, pretend to look at toys underneath the glass, and try to subtly attempt to grab the employee’s attention. The man emerges from an aisle, slowly walks behind us, runs his arm across our backs, and disappears into another aisle near the front — as if nothing happened.
My friend and I sprint across the store into Sports Authority. Breathing hard and close to tears, we hide all the way in the back, even while knowing we probably lost him. My friend calls her mom and she picks us up immediately. I was so happy to get out of there. I only reluctantly returned later that day because my mom wanted to report him. I’ll never forget walking down that spacious hallway with hands shaking, turning into the police station door, and making eye contact with that same man I was relieved to escape. I pointed my finger to identify him and that was the end of that.
But not really.
I couldn’t go to that mall for about a year after that — not even with my parents. I think one of the worst parts about this experience was that I thought it was my fault for the longest time. I shouldn’t have been wearing shorts that day. I shouldn’t have been laughing too loudly when he passed us. I shouldn’t have been roaming the mall by myself. Since I’ve come to UC Davis, my mind has been exposed to newer, more open ways of thinking. This wasn’t my fault. Even if I were wearing absolutely nothing at the mall that day, it still wouldn’t have been. I shouldn’t have to restrict myself in fear of setting someone off.
This story was not as bad as it could’ve been, and I’m thankful for that. However, it still affects me to this day. It’s so sad knowing that there are many people of all genders who’ve encountered way worse and still have to live with that fear today. Just know that no matter how big or small your story is, you’re not alone.