Greek and Roman mythology fascinated me since childhood. Ignorant of its cultural and religious depth, I enjoyed the stories of the Titanomachy, The Trojan War, and Odysseus’ journey as mere entertaining tales. My family used to own a collection of graphic novels that depicted a compilation of classical mythology (kid-friendly, of course); they would easily keep me on the living room floor for hours as I read the books over and over again.
The graphic novels mesmerized me so much that I wanted to live in Ancient Greece. I often pictured myself as Daphne, a sea nymph who resisted Apollo’s pursuit to her death. I’ve always wondered: why Daphne was such a jerk to Apollo? Though Eros had blinded Apollo with passion and Daphne with aversion, I wasn’t able to comprehend why Daphne ran and ran, full of fear.
I work in a supermarket. Every day, I smile at the customers saying “Hello” or “Have a nice day” while I do my job at the front desk. But my benign gesture of neutral amiability for which I am paid was sexualized and taken advantage of when he came in.
He, a complete stranger, was looking for a job. I called the manager for him, and he was not accepted. I smiled and told him to have a great rest of the day. He thanked me and left. Ten minutes later, he came back in and roamed the market. When I was working on product labels in the produce section, he remained nearby, asking me questions about cooking methods for Asian mushrooms. I answered his questions the best I could because that was my job. He thanked me, and I left.
The next day, he came back first thing in the morning. I was working in the produce section again, and I began to feel uncomfortable. He began to ask more cooking questions for the vegetables. Because it was my job, I answered with a smile. Then he asked me whether I was Japanese or Korean, whether I could speak Korean, and then for my name. His eyes were cool and full of confidence as if he had the right to my personal information. But I succumbed; I was stupid enough to tell him my real name, thinking that I cannot have a customer leave the store furious.
Then he asked more my phone number. I refused apologetically, lying that I had a boyfriend. But he was relentless; he continued to ask me ridiculous questions so that I would have to talk to him, unable to escape his gaze that seemed to crawl all over my body. As I continued to work, he remained nearby, hanging in my peripheral vision. Only after I hid away in the back office, he left the supermarket.
This past Monday, he was sitting right outside of the front desk window. I don’t know how long he had been there, but for hours, the only thing that protected me from that man was only a glass window. Hiding in the office again, I hated how passively I reacted to that man. I lied that I was in a relationship fearing that a mere “no” would not be taken seriously without some masculine protection that would ward off other men. When I saw him, I ran away until he was gone. But I didn’t do anything wrong. I was simply doing my job; why was I so afraid? The man interpreted my workplace friendliness to his liking and confidently intruded into my personal space. What can I do about that? Nothing.
As I am leaving behind my girlhood and entering womanhood, I could not identify with Daphne more. Not that I am a beautiful sea nymph or madly pursued by a hot hunk like Apollo – I understand how scared she must have been. I may have been overreacting. But in a world where girls are killed for saying no to prom and women murdered by their ex-boyfriends, women cannot help but fear for their lives when they must confront men.
Pursuing a woman who has already refused you is not manly; it’s threatening. You cannot coax her or persuade her to like you. The story of Daphne and Apollo is not a heartbreaking love story. It’s a scary fate of many women who said no. Here is a chilling excerpt from Ovid:
“Thus the god and the nymph sped on, one made swift by hope and one by fear; but he who pursued was swifter, for he was assisted by love's wings. He gave the fleeing maiden no respite but followed close on her heels, and his breath touched the locks that lay scattered on her neck, till Daphne's strength was spent, and she grew pale and weary with the effort of her swift flight.”