I am amazed by the presumptuous and otherwise invasive things that people do in the holistic health world. I recall one evening at a dance jam in San Francisco, purportedly a magnet for the mindful set: I kicked into a handstand while dancing, and out of nowhere, a man I had never met grabbed my feet in some oddball attempt to begin dancing with me.
Dance is my medicine, and when I dance, I can do things that I may not be able to do while I’m not dancing. As it happened, I had extremely sensitive wrists, and this man’s grabbing my feet in that position could have fucked up my wrists for weeks, months, or years. I think I managed to get him off me without twerking my wrists too much, but I could not believe that it happened. Except for the fact that, given what I have seen in the holistic health world, I could totally believe it happened.
I just had another what-the-fuck incident while shopping today. This is the letter I sent to the owners of the store.
6-29-13
Dear Jessica and Isaac,
Two weeks ago, my mother and I drove up to [name of city] for a day-long getaway. While at the raw foods restaurant, I saw your clothing showcase and found the designs and materials to be the most beautiful I had ever seen in my life – exuding feelings of courage, sensuality, and power all at once. I could not wait to come back to [name of city] and shop at your boutique. As a journalist-turned-publicist working with top local and national media outlets (including Marie Claire, Self, CNN, Rolling Stone…), I also was curious to find out what media coverage you’d gotten and to explore the possibility of getting you into some of the national fashion magazines.
Today my mother and I drove up to [name of city]. We had repeated delays along the way, and my mother suggested we do something closer to home, since it was taking us hours; but I was hell-bent on getting there. I literally squealed with delight when I saw that your store was still open, when we arrived at 6:30 pm. I went through the store, pulling off almost all the clothing selections from the racks, to try on, because I was so enamored of everything. I was prepared to lay down a couple thousand dollars for whatever looked good on me.
The first pair of pants were lovely but a bit lopsided. The second pair, however, were perfect. I asked my mom what she thought. At that moment, out of nowhere, a woman came up from behind me, put her hands on my waist and ran them down the side of my body, pressing them into me, and told me that the pants looked fantastic on me. I was in shock and unable to react before she took off, out the back door. It all happened in about 30 seconds.
I felt confused and utterly violated.
I tried to continue trying on the clothing, but I was suddenly shaking and feeling very unwell. When I came out the dressing room again, I asked the sales clerk who that woman was and discovered that she was another sales clerk. “She’s like that,” the woman behind the counter said. “She’s very touchy.” This sales clerk was sympathetic when I shared that the experience felt invasive, and when I asked this sales clerk to speak with the woman, she agreed to do so.
I am sure this woman is a warm and lovely person, and I am sure that she had no sexual or malicious intent. To go up to a customer she knows nothing about, however, and do something as physically intimate as what she did, is not only inappropriate but also potentially dangerous. This woman knew absolutely nothing about me. Tens of millions of Americans live with post-traumatic stress disorder, chronic pain, physical sensitivity, and/or other mental and physical health conditions that can make getting manhandled like that a traumatic event – as was true in my case.
When I came out of the dressing room the next time, the woman in question was back. (As I recall, she was maybe in her late 20s or early 30s, with light skin and light eyes, medium-to-heavy build, and with long and light-colored hair.) I was still in shock, so all I could really muster was to say that it “felt very weird” when she ran her hands down the side of my body. To her credit, she apologized. The damage, however, already had been done.
When I went back in the dressing room, I realized that I had been deeply triggered, that I could not handle trying on clothing anymore, and that I had to get out of the store immediately. I got dressed, went to my mother, and told her that I needed to leave. My mother is handicapped and takes a while getting around, but I could not wait for her. I bolted out the door. To the woman’s credit again, she apologized a second time as I left.
My body continued physically shaking for about an hour after the incident, and I was so triggered that I could hardly function for several hours after leaving the store. My mother cannot drive my car and did not have what she would need to stay the night, so I had to drive us home, despite feeling unsafe doing so. There were other negative consequences that occurred as a domino effect of this incident, though I will not detail them here. Suffice it to say, a lovely day turned into a rather hellish evening.
I would appreciate your letting this woman know about my experience. Most people do not speak up when something like this happens, but I think it’s so important to spread awareness about some of the things that people may not think about. Thanks in advance for your care.
Sincerely,
Loolwa Khazzoom
