Know thyself, know thy predator
And assess your risk
Rattlesnakes were a factor in my life the four summers I worked in western South Dakota in my 20s. The desert-like prairie and sunbaked river bluffs are a perfect habitat for these venomous reptiles with dull skins that blend into the dust, dirt, grass, and rocks. Yet, I was mostly never afraid because of the rattle snake safety we were taught. It’s super simple: walk don’t run. If they hear you coming they’ll avoid you. Even while on horses. Even with youth in tow. When you know what to watch for, and how to prevent attacks, you can co-exist. I wouldn’t even consider rattle snakes an actual predator because it’s not like they actively hunt for humans. They’re just living their lives.
However if ever I was, say, wandering in my back yard and happened across a garter snake I’d probably jump out of my skin with terror. (This has never happened and I’m crossing my fingers that I have not somehow unleashed a curse.) I think it’s the surprise factor. When you’re not expecting a reptilian visitor, it’s quite a jolt to come across one. However, when you understand that you’re operating on their territory and act accordingly, it’s much less scary.
At least that’s how it works for me.
Last week I came across a cougar track while hiking Aetna Mountain in Chattanooga, Tennessee, at the base of the Great Smoky Mountains, sometimes referred to as the Blue Ridge Mountains because they look blue in certain light. Even in our short time there, I saw the blue while viewing from the front porch rocking chair. While hiking on the mountain I literally sang Country Road Take Me Home. So peaceful!
It started out as a little neighborhood walk and I ended up finding a trail — thanks to kind hiking strangers — that took me in a glorious mountain loop maintained by the Tennessee River Gorge Trust. At hour 2+ of meandering I looked at my watch and said, crap, I need to get down from here because we need to get to the airport. Even with a hustle it took me another two hours to complete the hike, but I could’ve easily lingered on that mountain side for much longer.
While hiking I thought about actual predators. Rattle snakes don’t scare me. The cougar didn’t scare me. And I thought about my response to actual predators — other humans. My response is mixed. I’m not proud of the times I complied with the predators, and I *am* proud of the times I didn’t. I do understand that it’s a matter of risk, and how much one can tolerate.
For example, when I wrote grants for domestic violence services (goodness, that was ten years ago!) I took a deep dive into the statistics and psychology of how so called DV works and discovered that it takes on average nine times for a “victim” (That’s what it’s called in DV world. I’d flesh that out to “crime victim.”) to permanently leave their predator, if ever. I learned that the closer a crime victim gets to actually leaving, the more dangerous it gets in terms of homicide (the records are public), hurting the children, or harming pets. (Someday I’ll share a story I’m not prepared to share now.) I also learned that economics plays a big part and when women leave their perp, the woman/children usually become homeless. All this to say that I learned a lot about risk assessment, and the horrible compromises many women must take before the decide to leave their predator. Hense, the social campaign #whyIstayed. I never actually worked in the DV shelter or had first hand experience, but I guess I’m the kind of person who reads and researches and it becomes visceral to me. I feel it.
Last November when I decided to resign from my dream job, I calculated my risk. I had the benefit of a family and other resources to support me while I searched for new employment. I had the blessing of weighing pros and cons of leaving and staying. Would I break my ethical boundaries to keep a paycheck? Would I hold my values close and leave the safety of salary and benefits? Who even hires 62 year old woman family breadwinner anyway? When a human predator comes after you, you need to assess your risk and make decisions. I’m lucky that I had choices and I chose to take a stand.
Please. . .I’m not saying I had this all in the bag. I tried to play the game. It wasn’t like I was expecting a predator. I expected a professional partner and guide who cared about the mission as much as I did. I tried to be compliant with a chaotic, random, and inept boss who targeted me and my entire team. I was raised on the notion of pleasing the boss but when a predator boss expects you to hurt others, as mine did, I made a choice. And I learned that many of us make such choices.
Those who comply with hurting others to please the boss . . . I don’t know what to say except to ask why. I think of the last episode of Succession when Cousin Greg, knowing he sold out his family and everything believes in says, “Who needs a soul anyway.”
So also, that’s why I marched on April 5.
To those who mock marchers I respond: I need my soul, how is yours? I for one seek to protect the rattlesnakes and cougars, and to hold the human predators accountable.
