Thoughts on Humanity
Responsibility, Time, and Chocolate Covered Sili
I take responsibility.
We were both pretty drunk, but that’s just a meaningless excuse for what happened. I wore you down over time, killing you with kindness, brushing away lines in the sand, giving you the illusion of control whilst hoping for something specific. I warned you about my flirting and “past” tendencies for manipulation, confusion wrapped in honesty. Chocolate covered sili*. We talked everyday, for weeks, for months, or was it years? Time never really made sense when I was with you. More excuses. Acting as though I was on your side, I offered an escape, knowing you had no interest in vanishing in that moment. Time stopped for us to enjoy eternity. Then, with the ticking of the clocks, reality set in, and I take responsibility for your remorse.
Hollywood producers, or well known actors, or disgraceful Presidents are not the only ones responsible for the pervasiveness of sexual harassment in the world. It’s everywhere I walk and in every conversation I have. The #metoo social media campaign was eyeopening for all involved. No one could get on Facebook without seeing another friend tell their story or admit to a number of encounters or to just leave the hashtag behind, avoiding the need to relive past traumas. Chocolate covered sili. I listened to countless podcasts where participants discussed the campaign, the responses from men, and what this means for our culture. Then, in the blink of an eye, enough time passed and the conversation vanished to the tagged graveyard of past-“trending”.
I called a close friend of mine to talk about responsibility. I told her encounters from my past that felt all wrong after reading the stories of my friends. I should have been better. I could have been better. Despite priding myself on being some kind of actualized feminist, am I just another bitch ass dude on the inside? Chocolate covered sili. I understand that I was a worse person in the past, acting like most of the guys that I knew, buying into some kind of system that objectified and dehumanized women. In time, and through many conversations with phenomenal women, I put in the work to show respect and kindness and honesty. But did I ever take responsibility for all the times I ogled or lusted or pined or flirted without your permission?
“Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.” ~Khalil Gibran
I tried talking to a few guy friends about #metoo, but the conversation puttered out with denials and distractions and disinterest. Granted, they fall more under acquaintances than friends, yet the lack of energy to even give the subject serious thought was disappointing, to say the least. It’s easier to think about the ills of the world in private and offer dry humor and work talk and weather conversations when outside of one’s own mind. Chocolate covered sili. How do I take responsibility for my actions? Certainly, it can’t be this crushing weight not so dissimilar to depression that I carry around whenever I think of the moments in my past not so dissimilar to sexual harassment. I’m not ready to go / This world is not ready for me / The clock keeps spinning so slow / I guess we’ll have to wait and see.
Sexual harassment is encountering a reckoning, at least in the sphere of media, for men who have the utmost power. Will I experience this reckoning? Will you call me and tell me how much I hurt you? Will you ask me to take responsibility? Or will I, like countless men out there, continue to exist in this liminal space, both a supporting ally and a known perpetrator, a close friend and an unnerving fear, an honest companion and a bad memory? Chocolate covered sili. Time time time. I’ll give you more time. As much as you need. Even though I know nothing will ever be the same. I look at myself the same way in the mirror now. I take responsibility. Still, nothing. I take responsibility. Nothing, still.
Trying to move forward, I started to make a list of what I should have done differently. She’s drunk, back off. Relationship equals off-limits. Crossing lines are red flags. Be better, for Christ's sake! I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but at least it feels like the burden of responsibility is more in my hands. I look it over when I’m caught in an unsavory memory. Was that five years ago or last year? I’m still not certain I understand this whole time thing. I’ll type you a letter about all the progress I’ve made since that day, but it will remain in a folder on my laptop until my hard drive is wrecked and it is lost to the Universe like everything eventually is. It wouldn’t really help anyone, would it? Chocolate covered sili.
I take responsibility.
*Sili refers to Siling labuyo, a small chili pepper cultivar native to the Philippines. They tend to be very hot and are best used in moderation. Surprise, shock, disgust, and sadness would be the likely emotional responses to biting into a chocolate covered sili.
