It happened again, I'm in a whole different country, different rules, different culture, but I can't seem to get away from things I've learned through a lifetime of indoctrination.
I got off of my tram, my stop is on top of a mountain in the seemingly populated suburbia of the hills outside of Oslo. It's midnight or there abouts, people are coming home from culture night (more on that later), drinking, having a good time, or whatever. Before I exit the tram I see the group of three guys in the middle of the back getting ready to exit too while I do. Both sets of us get off, the three of them and me. We both start down the hill. They don't change sides, they don't go the other way, they go the direction that I go.
It doesn't help that I don't understand Norwegian yet so they are just saying a bunch of things that I can't understand. I am very happy because my street is an obscure (not this way) street, I expected them to turn up the first street. I was wrong. They follow me up the not so well light street that is deserted except for me and them. Their shoes shuffling along the ground and their laughter and talking taking up the silence. Pulling out my keys I have them in my hand and I feel the anxiety creep in. The desire to turn around and tell them to get further away from me, or threaten them, tell them to back off. Which of course would either be over the top or not help anything.
They kept pace with me it seemed like even though I know I sped up a bit, very eager to put space between me and them. My eyes looked happily toward the private drive that I get to walk down just a bit farther up the street. The noises they make just encompass me, surround me, I feel their presence entirely too close for my comfort on this darkened street.
Crossing the main street I pass into the private drive and feel a bit better until I hear them split off and one continue to follow me, feet keeping pace with mine. This would be all well and fine, there are houses with people right next to me, but to get to my house I have to walk through a solidly dark patch beside one of the houses.
I want to turn around, but I really can't. Can't stop either, have to just go forward and trust in the best. My feet cross into the darkness and I hear it, his keys opening the door to the house I just passed. I would be relieved but I'm so strung up by this time when I reach my door it takes me three tries to get the key in.
When I tell people I like being in places where I can run at night. It's a facet of this, not having to deal with the simple anxiety of being around people that I shouldn't have been taught are threatening. Not having to be around people or things that aid to that threatening feeling. I'm in Norway, It's pretty safe, but the knee jerk reaction is still there.
I'm not sure how to say this other than, anyone who didn't know me would say this is just an extreme reaction. I'm not really the extreme reaction type, but I still have these thoughts in situations like that. I also know that the fact that somehow this has become a 'how you take care of yourself' thing, by being anxious in these situations, and that it's sometimes nessecary.... is just sad. It shouldn't be needed and this kind of feeling and reaction shouldn't be something that future generations of women should have to 'learn for their own good'.
I look forward to the day when this kind of anxiety doesn't creep up on me simply because I'm on a dark street with a group of other people...
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