Gauge

It was a sunny afternoon in downtown Galesburg, Illinois when I was punched in the face by an unprovoked stranger. The perpetrators were two girls, one short with a nasty mouth, one big with a nasty fist. They had walked behind me for two blocks, and my high school self had spent two blocks suppressing my judgments and willing myself to not be the racist I feared I was. In the end, this trust cost me.

My faith in people and my faith in my own understanding of how they worked had never been so shaken before. I called my mom, sobbing uncontrollably, and she dropped everything to come pick me up.  I’ve reflected on this from time to time, but I have never felt so strongly connected to this incident than I do now. On Saturday night, my iphone, drivers license, transit card, and debit card was stolen. Also stolen, for the second time in my life, was my firm trust in other people.

I woke up Sunday morning shaking at the remembrance of what I was missing. My Facebook was hacked into that night as well—they posted a vulgar status. I don’t understand why someone would do that. On Sunday, every person I saw on the street looked like a predator. 

My drivers license might seem like just a card, but it's also a symbol for my place in society. Not having my license and my phone makes me vulnerable. It makes me think about the undocumented immigrants that I often report on for my internship, and the chronic vulnerability they face every day just by living here. This is also a reminder to me that even though my virtual/cyber identity isn't a tangible "real" thing, it's real in it's consequences and potential impact on my life, and for that reason necessitates up-keeping, security, protection.

 I blame myself for being too trusting, for wearing a purse that doesn’t close and not keeping track of my belongings in that crowded bar. It was Saint Patrick’s night in Chicago; of course the pickpockets were probably raking it in with all of the tourists and partiers. I feel ashamed that on that night, I was one of them. But it also makes me feel angry and sad that some people do cruel things for no reason, completely unprovoked, just because they can, or because life has messed with them in other ways.

I know it’s pointless to keep going between whom to blame more, the thief or me. I’m trying to see this as a chance to purge my sense of invincibility. I think part of my own resistance to a hyper-vigilance of my belongings comes from a place within me that wants to believe that I have complete control over my environment--that external factors have limited control over me. To believe that to some extent, is to feel like I have a lot of power and security. It’s a good feeling, but also an erroneous one. I think my gauge has been sliding too far to one side for some time, and Saturday night swung it in the complete opposite direction.

I’m using this experience as a chance to restructure my life balance between my own agency and the extra precautions I must take to prevent unforeseen external forces. Time to reset the gauge. Time to reevaluate. But more than that  (I’m sick of looking into the past) time to restart. Learn from your mistakes. I need to milk this incident for all it’s worth to get any ounce of wisdom I can from its profound impact on my being.  

In the end, I’m just trying to grow up in the right way. I changed and grew so much after that sunny afternoon in Galesburg, and I hope to do the same, now, here.

--Silvia


P.S: My phone was also my camera, my recorder, and my ipod. So it might be a while before my blog posts have pictures.