Not Okay
Stories of Silence, Part 4
What would it be like to eliminate the lie “It’s okay” from my daily interactions?
Because I lied again today.
As I walked in the woods, a young Springer spaniel sprang towards me and bounced its paws several times against my thigh, spattering my coat with mud.
“Oh. Sorry,” a man said to me.
“You mustn’t jump,” a woman cooed to the dog. “Some people don’t want to play with you.”
And I said, “It’s okay,” and kept walking.
It is not okay. I dislike having to wash my coat as often as I do because of unleashed dogs jumping on me in the woods. I’m not crazy about the bruises, either.
It is not okay. Yet I have said this for years rather than “Please put your dog on a lead,” for fear someone will hear my accent and tell me to go back where I came from. To be fair, this was only said to me once, but it felt terrible.
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I wasn’t like this in my home country. I used to have no problem telling people to read signs, to leash their dogs, to follow the damn rules to keep themselves and others safe. I told off tourists in La Jolla for harassing sea lions. I yelled at a man at the San Diego Zoo for trying to feed a Doritos bag to an antelope. Long ago, it used to be my job to hush and even remove talkers from an IMAX theatre, and I felt empowered by it — all the more if they got feisty. When I knew I was right, and I was in control, nothing they said could unsettle me.
Then I moved overseas and went soft.
At an age where women supposedly stop caring what people think, I am obsessed with not being an “ugly American.” Already a quiet person, I’ve regressed to the childlike voice of my pre-teens. Already a smallish person, I’ve learned to take up even less space in public by keeping my arms and my purse close to my body, by wearing slim jackets and taking small steps. No one can call me “fat and loud.”
And somehow I seem to think I can singlehandedly improve an entire country’s reputation with a gentle “It’s okay.”
Like I said two years ago when another dog ran up and bit me on the knee.
It is not okay.
A local woman said to me the other day, “Americans — I’m sorry — but Americans look really stupid right now.” I can’t argue with that. Therefore, I may as well give up on saving my country’s reputation, and stop lying to myself and others.
So no more “It’s okay.” But what will I say instead when I get jumped on, bitten, or otherwise inconvenienced? I’m not going to convince anyone here to leash their dogs. They see the signs. They know it’s the law. No words I say can make them care, and might only make them more stubborn.
So I will talk to the dogs. I will say “NO” or “OFF” in the strongest tone I’m capable of before they jump. If they jump anyway, I will continue on my way in silence.
This way, there’s no lying or wasting words.
It’s time to take my coat out of the washing machine.
I hope to write a sequel to this soon.
