Molestation on the Subway

My tiredness had consumed me
My feet were fatigued and sluggish
Yet there were no seats available on the subway
And it seemed as if every stop had more arrivals than departures
But just when the unbearable became tolerable
The doors gave way to an influx of those on their way elsewhere
At last I had a place to liberate and rest the day’s aches and pains
But then I notice him standing before me, he was speechless
An elderly Korean man who without words was demanding my seat with his facial gestures
But I revisited the Civil Rights archives and resorted back to my ancestor Rosa Parks
I was tired and too tired to move, and wondering if there was a reason he picked me
Why should I be the target of his silent protest as he looked me up and down from head to toe
But in that very moment I decide to ignorantly look the other way because my tiredness became pressing
I ignored him altogether hoping that his masculine disposition would realize I was a feminist
But just when the thought that his stares could become a Korean gender/ageist protest
The female passenger to my left cordially advanced her seat to the man after eyeing me
And just when I thought our silent dispute for the seat was over he stared me down one last time as if to say he had won the battle but had not gotten what he truly desired, my seat
Then the next thing I knew was she was speaking in Korean and aggressively rubbing my arm
I was confused thinking that she was talking about the feministic war that had just taken place
However, she was obviously letting me know that my color had gotten her attention
Within seconds most of the cars attention had turn to me
She was still rubbing me and speaking in Korean and I was clueless and perplexed
Next thing I knew was she was comparing my arm to hers and smiling
And just when things had reached their baffling peak the elderly man who was just at war with me chimed in with a raise of his thumb gesturing some sort of approval
Just by reading the facial expressions I felt somewhat safe, but I was still a little uneasy
And without understanding a word she was uttering I said, “Gomap-Seumnida,” or “Thank You”
Then the flood gates opened as the entire subway cars attention became more pronounced
She continued to rub my arm and smile, and he kept gesturing with thumbs up
But I felt I had been molested on the my way home after a long tired day of sightseeing
And for the first time my complexion gave way to a foreign but almost distinguishable acknowledgment
And I realized that even in this foreign place my skin color is still is the topic of conversation