1995_09 The Daily Collegian September 1995

              THE DAILY
COLLEGIAN
Tuesday, September 5,1995
Opinion
Managing/Opinion Editor: Celeste Cox
Telephone: (209) 278-5732
He may be the Prez,
but he's no Tark
In Your Face
By Celeste Cox
Bill Clinton's visit to the great state of California comes
as no surprise.
On the agenda for the visit is, of course, a trip to a local
elementary school and a visit with local area farmers.
He is playing smart politics.
Rather than go to the dirty, rotten, smelly Los Angeles, he
is hitting the Bay Area and the heart of the state, the Central
Valley.
Even though our illustrious Gov. Wilson has thrown his
hat into the political war that is soon to be the presidential
election, Californians are promising no support.
On the agenda
While Clinton is in town, he will be kissing babies faces'
and farmers' butts in the effort to prove that he is no Gov.
Wilson,
He will probably also say bad things about certain deci¬
sions our governor has made, without actually taking a stand
on any issue.
Politicians are funny that way.
While Clinton will stand against Proposition 187, he will
also oppose illegal immigration.
While he will also stand against cutting the education
budget, he will stand for a balanced budget by saying that
the arts have to come from somewhere.
The reason is simple.
He is eyeing those fifty-plus electoral votes like Gennifer
Flowers in a leather dress and spiked heels.
Ooh baby, be wants them with a passion.
Stop the world, the Prez is here
Fresnans are no doubt impressed by the country's com¬
mander in chief quaking an appearance in our humble little
kingdom.
The Fresno Bee is giving his visit almost as much cover¬
age as Jerry larkanian received last spring.
Now, if only he could sell tickets like lark, then we'd
have a sure winner.
The truth is, Central Valley residents in general are not
too taken aback by the fact that Clinton is visiting the area.
They are just recognizing his visit for what it is .<JLan at¬
tempt to seduce California out of its votes, then toss it aside
like yesterday's newspaper.
Or maybe... he actually does like and truly respect Cali¬
fornia as a state, and respects our ideals and principles.
Maybe it won't be an election one-night stand.
It is rather curious, however, that California has been al¬
most all but forgotten until now, the eve of a political cam¬
paign season.
He promises to still respect us
California, on the cutting edge of political change: end¬
ing affirmative action, attempting to legalize homosexual
marriages, facing every contemporary political issue.
Forgotten, but not gone.
It is remembered 14 months before a presidential elec¬
tion.
Not remembered for the agriculture, not for the education
system.
But it is remembered for those fifty-plus electoral votes.
To national politicians, California is nothing but a politi¬
cal prostitute to be bought, sold, borrowed and begged.
All in the name of politics.
Harassment not about sex,
but about lack of respect
By Rusty Robison
Contributing writer
This is a story for women. But it
would please me greatly if men
would read it also, and maybe gain
some insight into what sexual ha¬
rassment is really about.
I spent my summer in Alaska,
writing for the small weekly paper,
eating salmon, taking long Walks
and learning what life should really
be like - full of acceptance and
beauty. I also swam.
The local high school had a
brand-new indoor pool with a
scheduled time for lap swimming.
I was so proud of myself - swim¬
ming regularly and never invent¬
ing an excuse to stay home.
Alaska did this to me. Maybe
it was the sweet, clean air. I don't
know. Whatever it was, it must
have been strong to get the
world's worst procrastinator to
change her ways.
I swam every day, sometimes in
my own lane, sometimes sharing
one with another swimmer.
It was on a rainy afternoon when
I came out of the locker room to find
all the lanes with one person in
them. So I kindly asked the man in
lane four if I could split the lane
with him - he on the left, myself on
the right No problem.
I had arrived at the pool late so I
was determined to get a good work
out with the 40 minutes I had left.
I swam hard. The man on the left
swam at his own pace. I took breaks
by the wall at the shallow end while
he seemed to prefer the deep end.
Thinking nothing of it, I started off
to his side of the pool.
And when I approached him, he
exposed himself to me.
Considering that he was already
in a tight Speedo swimsuit, there
was only one thing he could show
that I hadn't already seen, and it
wasn't the hair under his swim cap.
Yes, he'd pulled it out from un¬
derneath his Speedo.
Quickly I made a flip turn and
continued swimming as if nothing
had happened.
But it had, and I wasn't going to
forget about it. I pulled myself
through the water while trying to
pull my thoughts together.
- Did I Just see what I think I
saw?
- Yeah, that's definitely what it
was.
- Was it intended for me?
- I don't know. Maybe he was
just playing with himself and didn 't
think I would see it.
And when I
approached him,
he exposed himself to me.
-No... he has goggles on, too.
He knows very well that everything
is visible.
- Should I say anything ?
- Not to him. It would probably
please him. Maybe talk to the life¬
guard?
- That would be a big embar¬
rassment if it really was just an ac¬
cident. It was a small town.
- Then how about this: If he does
it again or touches me at all, I'll
get out of the pool and demand that
the lifeguard call the police.
Wouldn't that be fun?
Bust that pervert!
- OK. But in the meantime.it
feels so creepy...
And that is how I stayed.
I never got out of the pool to
defend my body and my respect. I
continued swimming, avoiding
meeting him at a wall, pretending I
saw nothing, that he didn't exist -
all the while getting angrier and
angrier.
How dare he!!! I had paid $3.50
to swim here in the safety of the
public pool, to enjoy feeling my
body grow stronger.
He intruded upon my favorite
part of die day and made me feel
stained and humiliated and a thou¬
sand other strange mixtures of filth
and hatred that I wished I had never
come to know. How dare he.
I quickly finished an unsatisfy¬
ing workout and went to shower and
dress.
I walked right past the lifeguard
desk without uttering a word, not
even a glance to express my disgust.
From this I draw the most anger.
Why hadn't I said anything?
I knew very well what sexual
harassment was. And I thought I
had prepared myself for it. I had
promised to myself that I wouldn't
stand for it anymore, like I had as
a younger woman living in Spain,
when loud kisses and lewd com¬
ments seemed to follow me on the
street. "It's just Spain," I justified
my weakness to myself.
This wasn't Spain and I wasn't
that young girl. It played and re¬
played in my mind.
I wished with all my strength that
I had immediately jumped out of
that pool and exposed that pervert
without hesitation.
I thought of the other women
who might have to experience that
now since I had said nothing then,
so now I am screaming. It's a little
late and quite far away, but my
voice is just as strong.
The key is not to hesitate, to
know our rights as women, to know
what we deserve and to demand it.
I hope that the next idiot on the
street that makes a comment about
my breast size gets a big rock in the
back of the head. I'm serious. No
more hesitating.
There is a war. It's not women
against men, but women against no
respect.
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