A terrible, terrible thing happened yesterday.
But it’s not what you think.
It’s not the incident during which I was sexually assaulted. It’s what came after that.
I came precariously close to forgetting who I am.
Most of you know me as HRH, Princess Scribe (issues royal wave). However, some of you know me by another name – SheVour.
Who is SheVour? SheVour jogs, usually around 5 miles, but has been known to hit 9 if 
Mercury is out of retrograde. SheVour scales chain-link fences in order to save pudgy pups wedged in drainpipes. SheVour takes care of elderly women who have fallen on the sidewalk and scraped their knees. SheVour pulls 4 consecutive all-nighters in order to get an episode through post. SheVour kicks ass.
I was telling a friend about the incident; I recounted what the police suggested: “You have every right to jog on the streets or outside, but you might consider doing it inside. On a treadmill. In a gym.”
“That’s bullshit,” he said.
Bullshit indeed.
While I thank the officers for being so kind to me, and treating me with kid gloves, for I was feeling quite fragile, I have to say that their suggestion is pure bona-fide cattle droppings. It’s a fear-based reaction to stranger danger. And that is what is wrong with our society – we have turned into a nation of quaking cowards, lining our abodes with technology: home theatre systems, gaming systems, streaming everything, home gyms, so we no longer need to go outside. We’re a bunch of chicken-shits, who numb ourselves with 24/7 streams of music, videos, movies, newstainment. We blindly accept the words of the pundits – both left and right – as dogma, and we embrace Seussical radicalism – again both left and right – and call it action from the safety of our Barcaloungers.
Ahem. What was I talking about?
Oh, yes. Me.
Anyway, as I sat there in the car, listening to this bad advice, in my mind’s eye, I was standing, hands on hips, head cocked to one side, saying “Seriously?”
I’ve decided to ignore them.
I ran today. I will tomorrow. And the morrow after, and the next morrow after, and so on, and so on, and so on.
I am adding martial arts training as an additional form of recreation.
Six weeks from now, I will run that same route again. I hope he shows up. Truly, I do.
Suckit, Mr. Hands. I am SheVour.
Now, go write.
HRH, Princess Scribe
Princess Scribe's Blog 
*sigh* You are my hero!
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I LOVE THIS!
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Who did the art? Did you have that commissioned?
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Yeah, baby! Seize your Inner Goddess! I love it! XOXO
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Women everywhere rise from their BarcoLoungers and go outdoors and scream: YEAH! KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELVES, HERE WE COME!
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I thought of you while I was out running this morning. Stay strong, lady… I’m a big fan of the “I’m a survivor, not a victim” attitude. Don’t ever let them tell you to run in a box on a wheel like a hamster – what, and waste this beautiful weather we pay high rent to enjoy?
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EXACTLY!!! oxoxox so proud of you, you running woman!
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Reclaim the night, the morning, the streets! You go, girl!
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Courageous. Sorry it happened but couldn’t agree more. How about running with your labrador…if Shevour has Shedog. Poodles don’t really count in the epic battle to save the streets.
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Sadly, SheVour has kittehs only. Is it possible to rent a dog?
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That post was very inspiring. You are so right that in our world today everything seems to be handed on a plater and yet we wonder why we are the way we are. What happened to good old fun in the outdoors, entertaining ourselves with what was around (not a whole bunch of toys), etc. Thank you so much for this post. I will head your advice and become my own version of SheVour! : )
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RAWR
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Love your strength of spirit! Sad that women have to take up Martial Arts just to feel safe in today’s world, but it’s a wonderful way to feel more secure and discipline the mind and body. Think I’ll sign up too!
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xoxox Cher thank you
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