I'm Maggie Smith, and this is The Slowdown.

A while back, there was a discussion happening online, man or bear.

Women were asked, if you were in the woods alone, would you rather encounter a man or a bear?

It didn't surprise me at all that so many women answered, bear. Most women I know

have one fear above all others, men. It's not an irrational fear either. If you are a woman and you have been physically or sexually assaulted,

it's highly likely the perpetrator was male. If you have been stalked or threatened,

if you have needed a protective order, if you have had to call the police, chances are

you were reporting a man's behavior.

Women are less likely to be victims of random violence than they are to be assaulted or killed by men they know,

their own boyfriends, husbands, exes, or fathers.

As a woman, I know to be aware of my surroundings, to carry something I could use as a weapon

in a pinch, and to avoid walking alone after dark.

None of these precautions are to protect me from bears. They're to protect me from men.

Today's poem tells a story about a tense encounter in the woods.

I so admire how this poet unfolds the narrative,

then leaves me sighing deeply at the end.

Six hours lost, land between the lakes, by Kathleen Driscoll.

Long after dark had fallen and the trail left behind, long after the dog I had chased into the unfamiliar woods disappeared, she long gone into oaks and hickory and brush,

and likely back asleep on the porch of my new boyfriend's cabin. I saw a fire in the distance

and walked toward it. There, in their camp, orange light flashing across their

rough bearded faces, creased in dirt, unruly, feral hair, tin cups and grimy hands, like that movie.

Relaxing, they mocked and jabbed at each other,

...