Mind the Gap

Why the word “prey” is so harmful to women’s safety

When we are certifying new self defense trainers in the?Pretty Deadly Self Defense ?Program, we walk them through the rules for self defense training that are the mainstay of the program, and that coaches and trainers are required to inform their own clients at the beginning of every course they teach: 1/ training takes place in a safe space; 2/ you cannot make mistakes; 3/ the word “sorry” is forbidden; 4/ so is the word “prey”.

The logic behind most of our training rules are pretty easy to grasp:

1/ Our training always takes place in a safe space: no one has to do anything they’re not comfortable doing, because self defense is?not?about pushing past your comfort zone, but?defending?your comfort zone.

2/ When we’re learning Pretty Deadly Self Defense techniques, there are no such things as mistakes: we’re not here to do things perfectly, we’re here to do them?effectively.

3/?We want to detach the word “I’m sorry” from self defense moves because, in daily life, when we say “I’m sorry” to someone, we usually stick around to see if they’re ok, but in self defense the point is to get away.

But #4:?don’t use the word “prey”?often comes as a surprise. And to be honest, when we were first developing the program, this rule wasn’t a part of it. It was only after someone mentioned something about attackers being predators and targets (most often women) being prey that I decided to include this rule, too.

I truly believe the pen really is mightier than the sword (which is saying something in itself, because I’ve got a very sharp sword). Words are very powerful, and the words we use on ourselves can become the stories we define ourselves by, both in our greatness and in our limitations. And women are constantly told (and we even tell ourselves) that we are?prey.

When we hear that word, on a subconscious level we might be picturing trembling bunny rabbits, or timid mice, or — the most common — deer in headlights. And all of these images that we are superimposing onto our selves are also telling ourselves that everything’s hopeless because we are helpless, and we’re going to get hurt anyway and there’s nothing we can do about it. We talk ourselves out of our own empowerment without anyone having to hurt us at all.

Recently I came across this short video performance of the poem?Prey, by actor and writer Gemma Stroyan performed for BBC Scotland and BBC The Social. The PSA is designed to encourage bystanders to speak up and reach out, to put intimidating behavior in its place.

In the poem, Gemma takes us on a subway ride, late at night, in a situation all too familiar to women and anyone vulnerable:

It’s late

And I’m the only one in the carriage

The doors open and you see me spot you

I watch you…?prey

If you’ve ever lived any place with mass transit, you know this scenario. You can probably feel it in your skin as you’re reading it. And you’ve probably done exactly what Gemma does too:

And I pray

that your preying remains just that

A displaying of dominance

I the mouse… you the cat.

You’re stuck on a train with a creep, or a drunk, or someone potentially violent — it’s impossible to tell, but it’s safer to assume the latter — and there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and?this is the only way home. It’s just you and the other guy. And you both know it.

Terrifying.

She describes the guy as being over 6 feet tall (185+ cm), and built like a wrestler

And you start to grind your thighs on mine

Towering over me with no one else in sight

I freeze inside

Trying to ignore him, even though it’s impossible. And like so many of us in these situations, as the train pulls into the next stop, she’s waiting for that brief second he might look away and she can jump off and lose the guy. But what if no one’s around to help?

If I could just escape and hide behind someone —

But there’s no one.

So if I get off and you follow

The situation’s the same.

It’s a chilling piece of work, and the comments attest to just how universal this experience is, and how deep the fear. If you’re looking for a clear example of the sheer power of words, this is it. Gemma does such a powerful job of describing the terror and helplessness, the rage and rationalization one feels in this situation in just a few quick strokes, a 3 1/2 minute video that captures the entire emotional and physical arc of being cornered, trapped, and threatened. Like prey.

But let me go back to the word “prey”, and the day it was mentioned in a self defense class. There is no denying that this is the feeling you have in this situation, but what is “prey” exactly? Is it always something helpless that is hunted? And is “predator” always something lethal that hunts? Is it fated to be this way? As women, are?we?

As it turns out, there is a biological definition of “prey” and “predator”: Prey are simply animals that cannot track side-to-side motion with their eyes. Predators can.?That is literally the only difference. Read that again: animals classified as?predators?can move their eyes in their head, and animals classified as?prey?cannot.

And contrary to popular belief, animals classified as prey?do?have self defense mechanisms — and it’s not just freezing (although this are also a legitimate self defense response, and has actually saved people’s lives as well as animals who “play dead”). Prey are often fast runners, capable of nimble movement and high speeds, can usually change direction fast and are good at changing levels in movement. And don’t think a bunny or a deer can’t attack, kick and bite when cornered: they can, and they do.

However, predators have the capability to?watch?another animal’s movement while remaining still, making it easier to camouflage itself — giving the appearance of “freezing” when actually it’s just watching, waiting…for that brief second it can jump.

In the poem?Prey, Gemma on the train keeps her body still, tracks the guy’s movement with her eyes, waiting for that moment she can jump. Hardly behaving like the biological definition of prey,?because she’s a predator, too.

And I say this not to imply that Gemma or anyone in the situation the piece illustrates is going to turn around and intimidate or creep or threaten or hurt someone. I say this only to underscore the point that?we are not prey: we have the?exact same?tools the predator does. We just might not know how to use them.

Yet.

The thing I appreciate most about Gemma Stroyan’s piece?Prey?is that she goes on to address the part so many leave out: the crying, the shaking, the release of tension… the aftermath:

But what now?

Am I just supposed to dust myself off?

She is badly shaken, the snapshot of the guy’s face etched on her brain, a trauma that she now has the burden of carrying, that may manifest in flashes of anxiety, jumpiness that turns into quick-temperedness over time; she may restrict her own movements, turning down invitations, dates, networking events, even jobs on the other side of town if it means risking this experience again.

One of the reasons we learn self defense is not because knowing a few self defense techniques will prevent incidents like Gemma’s?Prey?from happening. It won’t. But what it does do is help us deal with these incidents in ways that empower us, where we?know?that we have kept ourselves safe to the best of our ability, where we’ve used our tools as predator too, and never have to feel like prey.

Oh and this line?

And you start to grind your thighs on mine

Towering over me with no one else in sight

If you’ve ever taken a Pretty Deadly Level 2 course, this should take you back to our class on Subway Rides…. and bring a smile to your face, because you know exactly what to do.

Watch Gemma Stroyan’s powerful piece?Prey?on BBC Scotland:

Prey | A Poem by Gemma Stroyan

"Speak up and reach out - let's put intimidating behaviour in its place"

www.bbc.co.uk