DIY History | Transcribe | Campus Culture | Ain't I A Woman? newspapers, June 1970-July 1971

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Ain't I A Woman? newspapers, June 1970-July 1971

1971-01-29 "Ain't I a Woman?" Page 12

Dear Sharon-share-alike, ALAW, Dirtbag, and Jill,

Before I tell you everything in order, let me describe what happened today. I met Tracy at Grand Central at 10;35 and we were to have lunch before her flight. While we were reconnoitering in the waiting room off 42nd Street a  young pimp, white (20-24) came up and leered over at Tracy "Is there anything I can do for you?" She said that there most certainly wasn't anything he could do for us and I said, "beat it". He told me that that was not a nice way for a lady to talk and sat down next to me. Well, Tracy had to call the airlines and asked if I would be sure and off him if eh gave me any trouble. I said I'd be all right so she went to a nearby phone booth, but kept watch through the window while she was calling. The guy started whistling "I'll be there" very badly so as not to let me forget he was there. He had a thigh to ankle caste on his left leg so it stuck straight out. He said, "You want to make money?" I said, "What's it to ya?" He said, "You know I'm a pimp don't you." And I said beat it or I'll beat you up. At this point he stood up and said, "ok beat me up, bea tme up". But not wanting to be arrested for starting anything I let it go--he sat down again, and began badgering me. Not only was he insulting me and calling me names, but he was employed in an occupation that I despise and made his money off the backs of women. I kept getting madder and madder until I pushed him off the bench or something,  (I sort of started it, but I was real fed up) and we were standing faced off, except he had me around the neck with one hand. I still wasn't taking the whole thing too seriously so I was calmly prying loose his fingers and when I couldn't, I hit him in the mouth a couple of times, but he hit me twice in the eye and knocked me down. Then, all at once out of the phone booth jumps Tracy (who, you'll remember is 5'2"), grabs him around the neck with both hands and threw him down on the floor. He hit her a couple of times too, but she said it didn't hurt. By this time people began asking what was happening so I said loudly that the guy was a pimp and made his living by explotiing women, I called him the scum of the earth and ran away.
Well, Tracy and I were pretty proud of ourselves, but after all that we had to sit down and rest--anyway my eye was swelling up and I had to go put cold water on it. When I got back two police were there and we gave them a description. I wasn't sure if I wanted to deal with cops at first, but then I decided that I really would love to see that pimp out of commission. He must work Grand Central Station. 
The reaction of the women around was neat. One woman who saw the whole thing smiled at us and gave the victory sign and the two matrons in the bathroom were very solicitous and kind about my eye.
I've done a lot of self-cross-examination about why I did'n't use the karate I know to get us out of that situation. One good groin kick or side kick to the stomach would have broken his hold on my neck and done him in as well. The only thing I've come up with is that I considered myself as starting the physical part of our encounter and I associate using karate only with self-defense. Looking deep down into the pit of my soul, however, I know that's a rationalization, and I still haven't rid myself of the passivity socialized into women. I sat there and did nothing to defend my worth and dignity. The only way I was able to respond physically was in considering his exploitation of all women. It wasn't enough that he was insulting me. I've been through that movie once before where I came to the defense of one of my friends who had just been given an insult that I had grinned and beared through many times. It's not healthy for women to be so selfless. Each time you endure a blow to your person and don't defend yourself against it, you did alittle inside.
Sorry I ended so philosophically. What I really wanted to express in this letter was how proud I am that Tracy and I beat up that pimp.
Love, 
Da-Da

what i should've done

A very good defense against an attacker is a kick to the groin. Even if sloppily placed, he will double over and be unstable to move. 

With force raise your thigh until it is parallel with the ground - while keeping your toe pointing down.

The power of the kick comes from continuing the force of raising your thigh by snapping the lower part of your leg out and up into his groin. Contacting him with the bones of your instep.

[hand drawings]

Revolutionary Letters: 
by Diane Di Prima

not all the works of Mozart worth one human life
not all the brocades of the Potala palace
better we should wear homespun, than some in orlorn some in Thailand silk
the children of Senegal weave gold thread in silk saris
six years old, eight years old, for export, they don't sing
the singers are for export, Folkways records
better we should all have homemade flutes
and practice excruciatingly upon them, one hundred years
till we learn to
make our own music

Page 12   Vol. 1 No. 11 ain't I?

Saving...

Dear Sharon-share-alike, ALAW, Dirtbag, and Jill, Before I tell you everything in order, let me describe what happened today. I met Tracy at Grand Central at 10;35 and we were to have lunch before her flight. While we were reconnoitering in the waiting room off 42nd Street a young pimp, white (20-24) came up and leered over at Tracy "Is there anything I can do for you?" She said that there most certainly wasn't anything he could do for us and I said, "beat it". He told me that that was not a nice way for a lady to talk and sat down next to me. Well, Tracy had to call the airlines and asked if I would be sure and off him if eh gave me any trouble. I said I'd be all right so she went to a nearby phone booth, but kept watch through the window while she was calling. The guy started whistling "I'll be there" very badly so as not to let me forget he was there. He had a thigh to ankle caste on his left leg so it stuck straight out. He said, "You want to make money?" I said, "What's it to ya?" He said, "You know I'm a pimp don't you." And I said beat it or I'll beat you up. At this point he stood up and said, "ok beat me up, bea tme up". But not wanting to be arrested for starting anything I let it go--he sat down again, and began badgering me. Not only was he insulting me and calling me names, but he was employed in an occupation that I despise and made his money off the backs of women. I kept getting madder and madder until I pushed him off the bench or something, (I sort of started it, but I was real fed up) and we were standing faced off, except he had me around the neck with one hand. I still wasn't taking the whole thing too seriously so I was calmly prying loose his fingers and when I couldn't, I hit him in the mouth a couple of times, but he hit me twice in the eye and knocked me down. Then, all at once out of the phone booth jumps Tracy (who, you'll remember is 5'2"), grabs him around the neck with both hands and threw him down on the floor. He hit her a couple of times too, but she said it didn't hurt. By this time people began asking what was happening so I said loudly that the guy was a pimp and made his living by explotiing women, I called him the scum of the earth and ran away. Well, Tracy and I were pretty proud of ourselves, but after all that we had to sit down and rest--anyway my eye was swelling up and I had to go put cold water on it. When I got back two police were there and we gave them a description. I wasn't sure if I wanted to deal with cops at first, but then I decided that I really would love to see that pimp out of commission. He must work Grand Central Station. The reaction of the women around was neat. One woman who saw the whole thing smiled at us and gave the victory sign and the two matrons in the bathroom were very solicitous and kind about my eye. I've done a lot of self-cross-examination about why I did'n't use the karate I know to get us out of that situation. One good groin kick or side kick to the stomach would have broken his hold on my neck and done him in as well. The only thing I've come up with is that I considered myself as starting the physical part of our encounter and I associate using karate only with self-defense. Looking deep down into the pit of my soul, however, I know that's a rationalization, and I still haven't rid myself of the passivity socialized into women. I sat there and did nothing to defend my worth and dignity. The only way I was able to respond physically was in considering his exploitation of all women. It wasn't enough that he was insulting me. I've been through that movie once before where I came to the defense of one of my friends who had just been given an insult that I had grinned and beared through many times. It's not healthy for women to be so selfless. Each time you endure a blow to your person and don't defend yourself against it, you did alittle inside. Sorry I ended so philosophically. What I really wanted to express in this letter was how proud I am that Tracy and I beat up that pimp. Love, Da-Da what i should've done A very good defense against an attacker is a kick to the groin. Even if sloppily placed, he will double over and be unstable to move. With force raise your thigh until it is parallel with the ground - while keeping your toe pointing down. The power of the kick comes from continuing the force of raising your thigh by snapping the lower part of your leg out and up into his groin. Contacting him with the bones of your instep. [hand drawings] Revolutionary Letters: by Diane Di Prima not all the works of Mozart worth one human life not all the brocades of the Potala palace better we should wear homespun, than some in orlorn some in Thailand silk the children of Senegal weave gold thread in silk saris six years old, eight years old, for export, they don't sing the singers are for export, Folkways records better we should all have homemade flutes and practice excruciatingly upon them, one hundred years till we learn to make our own music Page 12 Vol. 1 No. 11 ain't I?