Is That a Durian in Your Pocket, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

In early April, I hopped on the Green Line to head back home after a frustrating shopping trip (you know, the your-feet-are-way-too-big-for-shoes-sold-in-Singapore kind). As I jumped onto the packed train just moments before the doors closed, I was relieved when a young man stepped back and moved his hand, allowing me to grab one of the handles and steady myself as the car lurched forward. "Thank you so much!" I said with a smile, then promptly turned around to avoid any awkward front-to-front contact that would inevitably transpire on the overcrowded train.

With thoughts of the recent BBC article which nicknamed Singapore "misery city" in the forefront of my mind, I shook my head thinking how wrong people were about Singapore. That was so nice of him, I thought. And then, abruptly, my thoughts were interrupted with an annoying, yet persistent jab in my backside.

Is that...? Noooo! It couldn't be! Could it? Yep...it is. 

Apparently I had been so impressed with the young man's actions, I had beamed a little too hard in his general direction. Thinking this was all just a mistake (the train was, after all, extremely overcrowded) and without looking over my shoulder, I took advantage of the next surge of people entering and exiting the train to find a new position. As I breathed a sigh of relief and braced myself for the next jerk forward, I felt the now disgustingly familiar poke in my rear end.

You've got to be kidding me! I thought, shaking my head. Thinking this might be a good way to communicate to my persistent follower that this was not mutual, I continued shaking my head back and forth. Unfortunately, this only resulted in attracting the attention of my fellow commuters in front of me. Since that seemed to do no good, I started trying to maneuver my sizable rear into a group of young ladies standing next to me without exposing my front side to my would-be pursuer (a feat that proved extremely difficult). When the train stopped suddenly, I took advantage of the opportunity to jab the young man with my elbow as I tried to fall further into the group of young women. I apologized to the girls for the intrusion, but still couldn't shake my new fan.

When the doors opened again, I took advantage of the situation and pushed my way off of the train (yelling an expletive dealing with the part of my body he was trying so hard to penetrate in the direction of the station's ceiling. I'm sure at this point everyone else on that car thought I was completely insane). On the station platform, I hide myself behind a large advertisement for Pokka tea, waiting to see if the young harasser would exit. As he inevitably did moments later, I took off running, shooting a glare in his direction and jumping into another car further down the tracks moments before the doors closed, thus ensuring my rear end a harassment-free journey from that point forward.

Since we've been in Singapore, I've heard rumors and read stories about groping and sexual harassment on the MRT (see Singapore's rather unfortunate anti-groping PSAs). In fact, just a few weeks before my run-in, I read an article in a local magazine detailing several young women's experiences with harassment on the train and how to deal with it. (Too scared to make a scene, I, of course, did not follow any of that advice). As is so often the case in these situations, I stupidly held the narcissistic, close-minded belief that if it isn't happening to me, it must not be happening at all. Or not that much. Or if it was, it was harmless. After all, Singapore, on the whole, is a much safer place than many of the big cities in the US.

So why is it that on this particular day I found myself with a rather annoying pain the butt? Well, a few factors came into play that resulted in me being the perfect target:

1. I'm a white woman. Many of Singapore's neighboring countries have very skewed views of women from western cultures, often thinking that because our countries aren't as sexually repressive as theirs are that we're all just looking to have sex with anything that moves. Let me just set the record straight that this is not the case.
2. I acknowledged my harasser in a positive way, then turned my back to him, unknowingly inviting him to investigate my back end. (Kinda makes you not want to be friendly, huh? Maybe that's the reason for Singapore's unfortunate nickname).
3. I was traveling on a line that tends to be frequented by immigrants or people belonging to the lower classes (even as I type this, I recognize how incredibly snobbish and entitled that makes me sound, but, unfortunately, it's true).
4. I was traveling alone. Although I often do this in Singapore, I typically do this during the weekdays on lines that cater more towards the higher-end commuters.

So, there you have it folks: the perfect sexual harassment cocktail. Obviously, you should avoid these situations if at all possible. And, in case you were wondering what you SHOULD do in such instances, hitting the emergency button on the train and announcing to the MRT worker that you're being harassed and indicating what car number you're in is the correct protocol. But hopefully you'll never have to deal with it.