Terrorism? Or molestation?
If you see a suspicious package, alert someone. Tell the train crew or police.
Why put energy there? Why not somewhere where it actually might have a benefit?
I thought this on a crowded train as I tried, hard, not to grind my cock, my hand, into the very attractive ass of the very attractive woman who was, in spite of my best efforts, wedged up against me.
Seriously: how often are suspicious packages found on public transport? How often are they, in fact, malicious?
Leaders have a choice: they can seek to scare us, to keep us vigilant; or, they can inspire us to be better versions of ourselves. The former makes for good politics, the latter, good leadership.
I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but the line between being part of the crowd and copping a cheap feel was perilously thin, and I could see – without telescopic lenses – just how far (not far at all) I would need to travel down the road of moral depravity to behave a smidgen (and infinitely) worse. And I thought, this must happen hundreds of times a day, to hundreds of women.
As I was thinking this, the absurd announcement about suspicious packages came on, and it infuriated me. What we need, what we all would benefit from, is encouragement, not admonition; hope, not fear.
If the message had instead been, “Respect yourself, and others, in a crowd. Keep your hands to yourself,” I got a nickel says at least one woman IN THE CAR I WAS IN might have avoided a little furtive groping.
Instead, we all were reminded of the vanishingly small threat of unattended bags.
My political message for the month.