I hit a woman once. She was fourteen, as was I. We were classmates. It happened at school during the lunch break. We all entered the congested stream of students passing through the main corridor in the direction of the school canteen, and while slowly moving towards the smell of the chef’s latest invention, at one point I felt someone behind me brutally pushing me. I turned around. It was her. What surprised me even more was that when I asked why she was pushing me, instead of answering, she started kicking me. And then it happened. Without a moment’s thought, I instinctively slapped her. It was as if my hand were acting of its own accord. I was as surprised by this act as she was. Of course, she and the friend she was with immediately ran to complain about me to the teacher. As you can easily guess, a scandal broke out. My parents were called to the headmaster because the girls didn’t bother to mention kicking, so I was accused of an unprovoked physical attack. Fortunately, at that time I already had the reputation of being a quiet, harmless bookworm, so the headmaster believed my version of events, which they ultimately confirmed. Of course, this did not explain my reaction, and I had to apologise to her, but the whole affair ended without any serious repercussions for me. Two things make me wonder, though: why did I respond to the attack by attacking instead of running away as usual (I was a cowardly type, which infuriated my father every time I came home crying), and how did my hand know to stay open instead of balling into a fist? As a boy, I knew how to use my fists and had a fight or two with the boys in the yard, even if I usually preferred to run away. And more importantly, would I respond the same way now, as an adult? Although I never did it again, I never experienced being assaulted by a woman again either.
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