Anonymous Women

[noamnety]

The last time I attended CPR training, I walked out partway through the session and didn’t return.

We were told ahead of time that we’d be training on Resusci Anne, the type of CPR dummy that is wiped down with alcohol between uses, and whose chest, the instructor said, makes a loud popping noise to signify a breaking rib if we use too much pressure in our compressions. As one person practiced, the rest of the class stood in a circle, watching. I watched as the first man enthusiastically practiced his compressions, oblivious to the pop pop pop of the ribs he was breaking with each thrust of his hands on her chest.

I realized I wouldn’t be completing the training when the instructor asked one of the participants to lie down on the floor face down, arms stretched above their head, while everyone else stood in a circle around them. Another student practiced rolling them over, one hand cradling the neck, the other pulling them over as dead weight. Two men practiced on each other, and the requisite homophobic jokes were made. At some point the tension was broken with a joke about date rape. The woman next to me was staring at the floor. Her legs were crossed, the foot that was in the air was shaking uncontrollably.

I knew that I wasn’t going to be lying on the floor while my colleagues stood in a circle looking at my ass, and I wasn’t going to pretend to be unconscious as a coworker manhandled me into the proper face-up position and then bent over me, my stomach (or worse) exposed as my too-short baggy sweater crept upwards toward my extended arms, while my fellow staff members gathered above me making jokes about rape.

I was the third person to leave; by the end of the morning, a quarter of the class had walked out. The woman next to me left shortly before I did – the last time I looked over at her, she was covered in hives.

(snip)

more: http://www.insurgentamerican.net/2007/03/19/anonymous-women/