So let's talk about bears. By now, you're no doubt aware that all across the interwebs (do they still even call it that?) men are losing their minds over the idea that some women (most, probably) would rather encounter a bear in the woods than a man.
I've found this whole thing very interesting. Not just because I happen to be a woman who's actually had several unexpected, up close and personal, bear encounters while camping* but also because twenty-one years ago, when my book A Sight to Dream Of was released, it included this passage:
She watched as he took off his helmet and climbed off his bike. Watched as he walked to within several feet of her and stopped, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket, just as they’d been the last time she’d seen him.
“Hello, Marsha,” he said, his voice as warm as she remembered it.
“What are you doing here, Sam?” Her own voice sounded as hollow as she felt.
He looked away, shrugging a little as he answered. “I thought you’d maybe be out here tonight. And...I guess I was worried. What with that bear around, and all.”
Fury all but stole her breath away. Lies. More lies. Always lies! “Oh, right. The bear. How could I have forgotten? Thanks all the same, but given the choice, I think I’d rather take my chances with a bear than with you!”
So...I think that probably answers the question of where I might stand on the subject, don't you? And, yes, Marsha was over-reacting and being somewhat unfair. It's not that she felt physically unsafe with Sam. But from the standpoint of her emotional health, a bear still seemed the better choice at that moment.
Which brings up an important point: Even though Marsha was referring to a specific man (ie Sam) rather than a hypothetical man, the man in question did not get insulted. He didn't question her reasoning or try and convince her that she was wrong, or tell her that she clearly didn't understand bears. He understood that he had messed up and didn't expect her to sacrifice her own well being in an effort to shore up his fragile ego.
Actual men, on the other hand, have been furious at the perceived insult--which only proves the women's point and makes it even more obvious to everyone watching exactly why so many women have picked the bear.
Just to be clear, I'm talking about the men who have said things like, "Oh, you say you were stalked by a man for two years? Well, so what? You're still here, aren't you? You obviously survived. If you'd been stalked by a bear you'd have been dead within two minutes."
Or, "So, you're telling me you were attacked by men on three different occasions during the course of your childhood alone, but never once by a bear? That's actually pretty good odds, don't you think? I mean, considering how many more men you've been around all your life than bears..."
Or, "Why can't you understand this? You would never survive a bear attack. You can't outrun it, you can't outfight it. You would at least have a chance of fighting off a man."
And then there was the man who, when the women said things like, "at least a bear wouldn't hit me in the face with a brick if I said no to being attacked; at least a bear wouldn't lock me in a basement and torture me for weeks before killing me; at least if I told people I was attacked by a bear they'd believe me," have gotten furious and responded with stuff like, "Don't talk to me about your mere weeks of torture. Don't project your paranoid phobias onto me! My mother tortured me for YEARS, that doesn't mean I HATE ALL WOMEN!"
Dude, really? Are you sure about that? Because it kind of sounds like maybe you do.
But I think my favorite is still the guy who said something to the effect of, "With most normal men, if you were alone in the woods with them, the worst that would happen would be that they might hit on you."
Yeah, bro; that's the problem. You think that's acceptable behavior. We keep trying to tell you that it's not. Is that really the best men can do? Is harassment the most we can hope to receive from an encounter with a man--at a time when we're already feeling vulnerable and wishing we'd encountered a bear instead?
That, right there, is why women choose the bear.
Let me see if I can make this any more clear. Of course we know that the bear could kill us. But (and I guess this needs to be said?) so could you. In fact, anyone's odds of being killed by a man--any day of the week, anywhere in the world--is exponentially much, much greater than their chances of being killed by a bear.
Which means YOU should probably choose the bear, as well!
* Most of my bear encounters occurred while I was camping in Yosemite and (disclaimer) all of them involved black bears. One week we had bears in our campsite every night that we were there. Not just in the park, not just in the valley, not just in the campground, in. Our. Campsite. And we were in tents so, not exactly protected. Some of these bears broke into cars elsewhere in the campground looking for food. Not our car, because we always took the safety guidelines seriously, especially when we were camping with kids.
The most memorable incident occurred on the fourth of fifth night of our stay. I had just cleaned up after dinner and was putting everything away in the (oh, the irony!) bear-safe locker that the park had provided. When I was done, I turned around to discover that there was a bear sticking his nose in a cup of hot chocolate. A cup that happened to be in the hands of the child standing right next to me.
It's shocking how quietly bears move, especially considering how massive they are. Even the small ones. This was not the biggest bear I'd seen that week, but it was definitely full grown.
Anyway, I very carefully took hold of the child's arm and pulled him slowly around behind me. Later said child would tell his mother how brave I'd been. Not true. The prospect of having to face my friend and explain that I'd let her child get eaten by a bear was much more terrifying than facing down a non-aggressive bear.
But to continue...the bear looked at me (disappointed: where'd the hot chocolate go?). I looked at the bear and the next thing I know my dog is barreling out of our tent, barking furiously...all the way up until the moment when she came face to face with the bear, at which point she STFU and slowly backed away (oops. so sorry. my bad).
The bear looked at the dog then back at me. I continued to stare at the bear because...well, what else was there to do? After a moment, apparently concluding that he was not going to be offered a cup of cocoa after all, the bear turned and padded silently away.
And we all went on with our evening.
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