Living among the politically correct
Problem: teenage girl takes a huge tumble off her bicycle on Wellington Road, near the traffic lights, as she heads east.
Here are the issues that raises. First: I was the only motorist who stopped and this was around 4.40 p.m. In other words, there would have been plenty more who would have witnessed the high school student having her fall, especially on a road designated as part of the State Highway.
Secondly, being a man, I can’t touch her, especially when she says it’s her thigh that hurts. In an age of political correctness, you can no longer care or even make contact. The best I could do was lift up her bike, though I offered the usual help (‘Can I call your parents?’).
The only other person who came to her aid was a woman living nearby, who asked if she wanted to rest up in her home before she made the rest of the way back. She declined, though as I left I did see her make a cellphone call, probably to family.
I am glad that she was wearing a helmet, mandatory in New Zealand for cyclists.
But I am a little annoyed that we didn’t get an extra motorist stopping, and that I felt uncomfortable, because of all the news about bleeding nonces and sexual harassment, that I couldn’t take this girl by the hand and help her up unless she asked first. I felt a bit easier when I had the woman come by and offer her help because at least there was a witness. I look back and I do not know where the boundaries lie any more.
When fear of the law prevents us from acting as humanely as our instincts will us to, something is wrong.
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Comments
I am saddened to read this; it is surprising to me that New Zealand is so hypersensitive. I wouldn't even give rendering first aid a second thought. When my kids were in Scouts all adult leaders had to take classes in this sort of thing- but I live in sue happy America.
You are right on target.
Timothy, thank you.
Thank you, xmangerm. It is sad our society has come to this: that we are almost automatically branded predators just because we have a penis.
When Brad was about 10 there were 2 girls who were cute and about 14. The girls had been visiting friends in the neighborhood and were across the street from our home. Brad and a friend were up in the tree in our front yard so as to get a look. One of the girls came over and asked if she could use our phone to get a ride home. She was unable to contact anyone at home so we offered to drive the girls. I drove the girls home and Brad was a passenger to insure that I had a witness for my own protection.
What happened was nasty and ungentlemanly. I can’t believe how terrible and unnecessary that was.
This reminds me a little of curly. He lives in my town and publishes a photo every day - he's the biggest blogger from this neck of the woods and many town folk know him. He was taking photo's at the beach - not of people, just general photos - so someone phoned the police and he spent some time in the back of a police car getting questioned and what not. He showed them the photo's he had taken and is known enough for people to say who he was, but still, it's really not good.
And the other thing to ask is: how the devil did we get here?
Bachelors do not have exclusivity over pædophilia—that case about those horrible Belgians is before the courts now, and they were married.
Not good about Curly’s case. Yesterday, I was collecting a colleague and got to the wrong street, but it looked a lot like the one she lives on (steep street opposite driveway, the same cambre). I walked up and down that street trying to identify the right driveway and was actually worried someone would have phoned the police saying I was casing some properties.
I know what you mean - I was working for an architect taking photos of one of their developments and I had a run in with the neighbourhood watch. There is an image on the architect website - though sadly it's too small to make out on the web version - and the guy in the second floor window is stood watching me with binoculars.