My best friend was almost robbed last weekend. He was carrying a pack of beer when three large men tried to jump him.
I never learned how to defend myself growing up, so when I heard this story, I couldn’t help wondering what I would have done in his situation. He ran — and I would have too — but when you do not have the skills to defend yourself, you have to be incredibly tactful in your escape.
John was walking down 3rd St. at around one in the morning when a small group of very large men started following him. Right off the bat, John was suspicious. He knew the beer in his hands paired with his small stature was a big red flag to his own safety, but a go-ahead for those around him.
At first, the men walked leisurely behind him, but then they began to pick up their pace and catch up with John. He walked faster and so did they. He started to run, so they caught up quicker.
When John told me what was going through his head in these moments, I kicked myself for not thinking three steps ahead like he did. John knew he could not outrun the group of men, so he chose to rely on the consistent flow of traffic to slow them down. John looked for a break in cars and sprinted to the opposite side of the street, forcing his pursuers to wait their turn to cross. They started yelling at him, “Give us your fucking beer.” John held tight to the cans and kept running.
He told me all of his initial thoughts. First off, nobody was around to notice all the fuss, so it was up to John to get some attention and ward these men off. Again, I drew a blank as far as what I would have done in his shoes. John decided to snake through residential areas in hopes that his twists and turns would eventually lose the three men, and it worked. They finally lost John.
I was happy to see John was okay, but his story brought me face to face with an ugly truth that I had been burying since I moved to Long Beach last year. I don’t feel safe.
This is not to say our campus or the surrounding area is dangerous for everyone. It just appears that way to girls like me who locked their front door growing up as an afterthought, rather than a necessary safety precaution.
It’s a big scary world out there and having been raised in one of the safest communities in America, my learned skills — or lack thereof — would not be of much use south of Cherry St. I’m clueless when it comes to the realities of downtown life, and John’s story really brought me to a place where I couldn’t ignore it.
It’s hard to trust anyone in Long Beach, especially late at night. I’m not quick on my feet like John, and I certainly wouldn’t have had the sense to tactfully outsmart the men like he did.
One thing is for sure; I would have dropped the damn beer. But after that, who knows? If you are clueless like me, I say now is the time we get smart about living in Long Beach. It’s necessary that everyone, especially women, strategically learn to defend yourselves. Whether your in Long Beach or anywhere else. Survival of the fittest.
Haley Pearson is a sophomore industrial design major and contributing writer for the Daily 49er.
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