87 Oh please don't hesitate part two

I was crying pretty bad as I ran. It hurt me inside that someone meant me harm, but especially more that the other humans around did nothing. I could barely see as I was walking, but I was stopped by a friendly soul. It was the chicken lady. She grabbed me and held me. Asked me what happened and kept a hold of me. I don't remember what she said but it was a comfort to me and I will always thank her for that. When a big smile goes sad... hard to shake.

She walked me up to the hostel in the dorm and the nice Asian gal, that I'll never forget but sorry I forget her name, tried to help me. Did I want to go to the clinic? No. She talked to me as a woman. There really was no talk about going to the police. As much as people slam women's liberation nowadays, please, it had to happen. Some things were so shitty. You better be a proven virgin in those days to report rape or attempted rape, or it was your fault. Maybe cops were sympathetic, but by the time lawyers were done with you... you shamed your family and whoever still were victims of the old mores. I wasn't into the cops anyway. 

But remember, 1972, many girls didn't even have a gym class until Title IX. This is just an example of the changes happening. I didn't have gym in grade school, but of course I didn't need it either. I get nostalgic for a lot of what we lost, but not every change was bad.

Anne Bonny

I asked them if they heard any cop cars anywhere, just because I still couldn't believe no one helped. Nope. Nothin. I went into the bathroom and just sat on the cold floor with Zac. I mean, if something like that happened later on in life would I be crying that much? That broken? I'm thinking there would probably be some anger built up along the way, but who knows. Somewhere along the line complacent shock would have set in, I'm sure.

The people in the dorms knew us pretty well and someone went out to find LBJ. They knew who he got his work through. Ok. Here's the part that hurt. When he finally ran in, I know now he just didn't know what to do. We were born in the fifties and it was a hard change for a lot of guys. He said "What did you do?" "What did I do?" It was like I invited this guy to attack me. Oh. The most horrible feeling. The shit hit the fan. Poor Zac was witness. It was such a frenzy of emotion I don't remember much of what happened except that I threw the bag of Friskies I carried around, all over him. People don't let it out in fights like they used to. Sometimes that's good, but sometimes maybe that isn't so good. We went back to our corners and recovered. Relieved that a lot of the shit that we didn't even know we were holding in, came out. We did. We recovered from that.

I slept ok that night but I was through with the panhandling. The first day I stayed at the dorm. I breathed a little easier. I wasn't afraid, just cautious. And I really needed to take a break. For a few days after that, LBJ walked me up to the waterbed couple's house and the radical lady and I spent a few days talking. She gave me some reassuring hugs. LBJ finished up working on a job and we talked about leaving Berkeley.