Walking the Gauntlet in New York City

There are many types of gauntlets that a woman must navigate in this world. Men do not understand how stressful such moments can be especially when one is young and feeling vulnerable.
In 1976 and 1977 in New York City, my life seemed a constant test of courage on all levels. The first lesson I learned in the big city was to always stay aware of one’s surroundings. This was no joke!
There are a lot of people in New York City. And most of them are not out for your greater good.
In fact, they are only interested in you if you are someone that they can make money off of.
While I knew I was pretty, I also knew I was not drop dead gorgeous.
While I knew I looked like a young Borzoi in the ballet world, I looked like fresh meat to men on the streets. That was disconcerting.
Men looked at women from a variety of personal lenses. Most men look at a woman as something that they want to fuck or not. There is a level of men that are drawn to your body, your look, and how you move.
As a ballet dancer, while most directors and teachers are not looking at you as a sexual object at my age, they are evaluating your movement quality and proportions.
Besides dancers are also always looking at themselves in the mirror and evaluating the exact same thing.
So, most of the time that type of looking, does not bother me. I am very used to it. But teachers and choreographers are looking at you with intelligent and calculating eyes. They are looking for nuance and some spark. Most men on the streets are only looking for you to fulfill their fantasy.
The second level that men evaluate women is their level of intelligence. While knowledge is a powerful tool and a good thing to have, most men can be intimidated by a women’s mind and only a select group of more mature men will be interested in that type of intimacy and see it as sexy.
In the ballet world, intellect is necessary to evaluate movement, train the muscles to respond to what the mind commands, and to remember sequences, musical passages, and complex choreography.
Ballet dancers are some of the smartest people you will ever meet because they learn from a young age to multitask and constantly notice nuance and subtlety.
After all, that is the only way to make it to the top.
In fact most artists have this level very well integrated. I would prefer to talk to almost any artist over normal people. That is because the conversation with artists is deep, layered, complicated, fascinating, and give me great insights into how their mind works and why. Engaging with them on those levels, helps me to see if I can possibly integrate their tools and ways into my own psyche and expand my own levels of awareness.
I think all artists seek to constantly stretch and notice even more. While most of humanity seems to get their variety through television, artists love to gather and hang out. Real intimacy has substance when you are in the same space sharing what really matters.
The third level that men evaluate women is much more complex. And most men do not know how to access this level because they get suck in the addictive patterns of the first two. But if one allows a natural maturing process to carry us forward, we learn that there is more than getting satisfaction through the body and more than getting satisfaction through the constructs of the mind.
That leads us into the territories of intent.
I find that most do not understand what they are projecting out into the world as their intent.
Intent that comes from needing to get your needs met, ends up feeling creepy, grabby, and desperate.
Intent that comes from needing to satisfy ones’ curiosity and intellect … loops around in circles.
I personally find that while my mind is interesting, it often leads nowhere.
Such dead ends eventually lead people to look towards what is deep within our own heart and the hearts of others.
I see the doorway to this level as a question.
And that question is what opens this person? What opens their heart? What opens … love?

These questions are the ones that I find most interesting.

In the world of ballet, “comparison” is a toxin that paralyses talent, and poisons the mind. I learned that early on. I would not have survived the intense competition that I found myself in, without that lesson. Understanding that gave me a type of inner confidence, that did not need attention the way most men want to give attention to women.
But out there in the real world, comparison, wanting, desires, and needing to feel special … become even more dangerous and there are those that look for those vulnerabilities in young women and will try to capitalize on them.
It has been so for centuries and is not about to change any time soon.

When Philip dropped me off at the Cathedral Church of St John the Divine, I was stunned!
I did not really know what just happened. And it happened so fast because the energy shifted out of us having fun, to Philip needing to get his needs met.
I found myself looking up at the iconography of this magnificent building and feeling how perfectly positioned it was and how it reflected the duality of the psyche that plagues mankind.
I stand on the stone steps and ask for safe passage back to my hotel room at Lincoln Center. I ask for protection from Michael the Archangel.
Then I take a big breath and start walking.
While my life would ironically have me walking many such gauntlets in my life, this was really the first one. And to say I was terrified would be an understatement.
It is late at night and at such hours those on the streets are of a different sort.
Girls dressed provocatively stand under streetlights or in the shadows of doorways.
They look at me suspiciously while I try to not look their way.
It did not take long for some men to try to get my attention. And in the darkness, they tended to be more forward, bolder, and aggressive.
I just kept my head looking straight forward, kept my walking very grounded and appearing as if I knew where I was going and what I was about. Uncertainty in this moment would have been unwise and even my young mind understood that. There could be no kinks in my armor.
In my mind, I started running through scenarios as to what I would do if someone tried to grab my arm. I quickly determined that the strongest part of my body were my legs and that if those men touched me, they would get a “grand battement” to the groin.
The openness of the area around the cathedral quickly seemed to swallow me up as I journeyed into the lurid humidity of the night air.
The air seemed to fester with the smells of garbage and the stench of the unwashed.
All the stores were darkened, and it was clear that there would be no help coming my way. It was going to be up to me.
Men could not help but call out and ask questions.
“Hey baby! Who let the puppy out tonight?”
“Are you alone little girl? Where are your parents?”
“Pretty girl, I have just what you want over here! Why don’t you come and get it?”
Groups of men were the scariest. They acted like packs of roving wild dogs. Looking for a tasty morsel and wanting to satisfy their hunger. They laughed, teased, and taunted with vulgar language and body innuendos.
I got accosted by the filthy and the homeless. I got accosted by the well-dressed pimps. I remember the one that seemed very determined to get me to talk to him. He walked with me for blocks. I refused to look at him. He was dressed in a flashy yellow suit with a hat. He had an afro hairdo that puffed out from underneath his hat.
He was full of questions and was calling out for me to stop and talk to him. “Baby girl! Where are you off to tonight? Can I come with you? What is your name Baby Girl! Why won’t you talk to me darlin! There’s no harm in just having a nice conversation, come on?”
I just kept walking refusing to look his way or in his direction. Eventually he gave up. The last thing I heard was, “That Baby Bitch needs someone to train her better!”
Once I got below 80^th street things seemed to calm down a bit but there were still the those selling drugs and wanting to know if I was interested in buying or selling something they had.
By the time I got home, I was sweating, emotionally exhausted and totally energetically spent.
I stripped off my clothes and got in the bathtub. I felt like I had been slimed with testosterone laced goo. I knew I had to get this icky energy off me.
As I allowed myself to sink into the warm water, I was torn between being pissed at my uncle and grateful that I was so strong.
Life and situations test us. They test us to see what we are made of. Clearly, I had passed this test.
I also understood that it would not be my last test.
At this time in my life, I reflect on the strength and determination of my inner self and the ability I have to focus and to not doubt in any way who I am.
I learned a lot that day. I learned to stay watchful and to recognize that without the self-confidence and courage that I had inside I could easily become a victim to those that want to use, abuse, and traffic those that are not aware that they are walking a gauntlet and that danger is all around in a big city.
I understood that one could never drop one’s guard and I was determined to remember that.
I had a dream that would require much from me.
I already required a lot from myself. But I knew that I would not ever want to be trapped by the desires of those who saw me as a commodity.
I was not a piece of meat.
I was not something of passing interest.
I was going to be an artist and one that knew my value and one that would not let others ever determine that for me.
It was a good lesson. One that has given me much and allowed me to walk away from those whose intentions were below my own standard.
I am proud of the young woman I was, and I am in awe of the woman I have become.
While this was a moment that could have broken me. It ended up being a moment that began to shape me into a woman who could see the intentions of others, see past their attachments, and know that their energy could not stop what I came to become.

~Suzanne Wagner~