Chapters (23)
I know. Most women are raped by people in their community—often by friends and family.
Does the Coetzee book help or hinder? Is it good to have been immortalised in a work of genius—a modern classic?
No.
It’s problematic. Coetzee’s book, I mean. I’ve seen feminist critiques that take on his framing of gang-rape as a metaphor for decolonisation.
You’re just a woke bae, aren’t you?
This time there is a genuine pause in communication, without any bouncing ellipses. That was a catty remark, but I’m not sure he understood the cattiness. Perhaps the pause is due to his hasty Googling of this phrase. I could save him the trouble.
Woke bae (Urban Dictionary)
An attractive man who demonstrates a genuine awareness of the liberal agenda (sometimes pejorative).
And there’s the rub. Because while the phrase is often used unironically to praise—nay, drool over—hot guys who are totally on-message with all race and gender issues, it is also used mockingly to skewer those who make a parade of their supposed enlightenment. Which camp does Eugene fall into? And does he even understand that there are camps to fall into?
It’s not a pose. I care about gender issues. I want to participate in the dismantling of the patriarchy. I believe it oppresses men as well as women. We would all be better, freer people without it. I’m not saying I always get it right because I don’t, but I am sincere.
I send him a meme. It’s a gif of the words “woke” and “bae,” each with a little empty box next to it. It is animated so that little blue ticks keep appearing and disappearing in the boxes, as though someone were ticking them over and over again. I can only be this brave because I’m not invested in him yet. If he were to disappear from my screen forever, I would feel no regret. I can be as jokey, mocking, and obnoxious as I like. I have the upper hand because I haven’t started to care. As soon as I start to care, I will lose that. I will become anxious and clingy—a people-pleaser of the kind that displeases people the most.
He replies with a laughing face emoji.
Some of my swagger disappears. An emoji without text signals the end of a conversation. He started this interaction, and it seems as though he has ended it. If I try to keep it going, I will lose the upper hand.
Why do I care? Haven’t we just established that I don’t? But this interaction has been pleasant. A part of me that has been dormant for two years is stirring into life. It’s a shame it has to end so soon.
I look at my phone and see the bouncing ellipses again. He’s typing. It’s not over.