I wish I could say I was a Robin Scherbatsky type of chick who grew up shooting guns at ranges, slaughtering animals during the hunt, and popping a few celebratory caps into the air in commemoration of whatever badass thing I happened to accomplish, but that is definitely not the case.
The reality of the situation is that I am a 5’1, 93lb Asian girl with little to no self defense skills.
My siblings, brave as the are, opted for Karate classes when we were kids. As for myself, scoring bruises and breaking bones while sparring during class just didn’t appeal to my delicate sensibilities. Pre-teen me felt more at home writing, drawing, playing video games, and surfing the Internet all day. And, surprise, adult me hasn’t changed much at all.
Adult me feels that rather than familiarizing myself with guns, knives, and anything else that might be even remotely dangerous, I should do the next best thing: never leave my apartment.
… What? It’s not so bad.
Staying at home provides the perfect environment for a life spent brushing up on my Top Chef, P90X, and at-home yoga skills. And hey, my Netflix isn’t gonna watch itself!
I get that this lack of real-world experience will probably be the death of me.
Sometimes I stay home for such long periods of time that being around people again actually gives me social anxiety.
I should probably be more worried about my own self preservation.
I do live in the city, after all. And this is the first place I’ve ever been robbed (several times, in fact). This is surprising even to me, especially considering I come from Stockton, California, one of the highest-rated cities for crime and gun violence in the nation, a city on the brink of becoming the murder capitol of America. Blegh.
“Hunny, we need to get you pepper spray.” My boyfriend says this all the time. And he’s probably right. I should have some form of self defense with me on a regular basis. And my only excuse for not having something to defend myself with is pure laziness combined with the fact that I, once again, never leave my apartment, and therefore don’t have the time to go out and purchase these sort of things.
“Can it be pink pepper spray?” I ask, because that’s obviously the more important question here.
“I don’t think pink is a very intimidating color, sweetie,” he replies, smiling at me and petting my head in that kind of, oh, you’re so cute, but so clueless kind of way.
“It’s not like they’re going to see it anyway. I’ll spray pepper in their face and make my escape before they can do anything!” I mimic clawing at the air a little. Y’know. Like a tiger. Rawr.
He laughs. “What about a gun? We can get you a gun.”
“A gun? Seriously??”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Guns scare me,” I pout, shaking my head.
“What about a pink gun?”
“CAN WE?! CAN WE, REALLY?! Yes, please!”
Why does pink make everything so much less scary?
I swear if they sold pink swords, I’d happily be a ninja. … Well, I think I’d be a ninja anyway, because ninjas are kickass, but a pink sword would totally sell me on it. That, and pink ninja stars, and pink blow darts, and a pink ninja outfit with cute pink shoes — c’mon. How adorable would that be?! And what’s this I hear? Hawaii just discovered a new breed of pink sharks? Let’s all go diving! And are you saying if I jump off this 200 foot high cliff, I get to land in a fluffy cloud of pink cotton candy?! Don’t mind if I do! Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!
Look how friggin’ cute these pink guns and knives I found on the Internet are.
(via andys gun thoughts – that’s kind of a scary name for a blog, Lmao)
(via the breda fallacy)
… But still.
You can dress a gun or knife up in pretty pink colors with flowers and hearts and glitter all over it, and it will still be exactly what it is — a gun. A machine that has the power to, at best, severely injure someone, and at worst, kill them. Do I really want to be responsible for that sort of power?
And actually, a girlfriend of mine once sent me home after a night out together with a tiny little can of pink pepper spray, instructing me to stay safe. I took it from her gratefully, but I had no idea how to use that thing. I remember examining it on my way home and thinking, am I supposed to flip this little top thing? Is there some kind of button I press? Which way do I face it? Oh my god. So complicated. If I can barely handle a can of pepper spray, what am I supposed to do with a gun?
Can’t I just hire a bodyguard?!
PS. What sort of self defense methods do you employ, if any? And what would you recommend for someone like me who is terrified of guns, knives, and all things that might lead to potential blood loss? Or are you just like me and have no idea how to defend yourself at all? In which case, welcome to the you’re-probably-going-to-die club.