I Keep Receipts

I don’t think anyone noticed when I disappeared. I stopped performing stand-up, stopped using my voice. No one asked me why I had stopped showing up at open mics.

Well-meaning friends have told me not to tell this story. It’s too convoluted, too hard to follow. There’s no clear cut violence or violation. No legible scar. This is a story about a mostly-cyber stalker who decided to silence a woman for having the wrong opinion about him. And for a while, he succeeded.

It started out as just your everyday woman-in-male-dominated-space irritation. I was a regular at a local Shanghai open mic, doing stand-up comedy in English. The scene was dominated by mostly white male expatriates, so when a male comic of Asian descent befriended me and asked for my WeChat, I agreed.

He started texting me regularly with a familiarity he hadn’t earned.

I was used to men confusing my willingness to speak candidly onstage as an open invitation for them to engage me on any subject of conversation they wanted. By taking up space and using my voice openly as a standup comedian, I presented as someone who should be good-humored about anything and everything.

I had people grill me on censorship and comedy in China. I navigated questions about Taiwanese independence, which could get me into serious trouble with the government. I rolled my eyes at (mostly white) men trying to tell me that dating sucked because Chinese women were “crazy.” And I had too many male comedians hitting on me, some opening with “you’re pretty funny for a woman.”

By taking up space and using my voice openly as a standup comedian, I presented as someone who should be good-humored about anything and everything.

But this guy, let’s call him Joe, finally pushed me too far. He asked me for favors, job referrals, and about Taiwanese politics. China doesn’t recognise Taiwan as a sovereign nation and regularly threatens to invade us, so as a Taiwanese person working in China, strategically side-stepping probing questions had become second nature, the same way female comedians have long dodged sexual harassment without alienating their “peers.”

     Joe: A lot of my Taiwanese friends are sharing negative news about China’s anti virus efforts on Facebook. Do you think these Taiwanese new reports are credible or fake? 

     Me: Fake news is a universal problem. 

     Joe: Most of fake news are so ridiculous that most intelligent people know it's fake 

     Me: By your logic, your Taiwanese friends on Facebook are not intelligent people? 

     Joe: I was just enquiring about the attitude from a Taiwanese person. Because you see both sides. From my perspective, I do not have bias because I'm not involved with the China-Taiwan politics. I see things and I use my own judgment.

This went on for a while. I didn’t like being made to speak on behalf of 23 million people. Eventually, I snapped. I told him I was tired of this line of questioning and inappropriate favours he constantly asked of me, and that respectfully, I was done talking to him. Then I blocked him.

It was a rare high. I had so rarely stood my ground like this in my life. When men felt entitled to my time and attention, I had always waffled and played along. I laughed at jokes I didn’t think were funny. I stayed with the date in spite of red flags and then quietly ghosted him later. To just bluntly go “nah” and move on felt like a win.

But that high was laughably short-lived. Within hours, I got a text from an unknown number, clearly from Joe, saying that he had “surveyed” eight of my friends who all agreed that I was being “oversensitive.”

When men felt entitled to my time and attention, I had always waffled and played along. I laughed at jokes I didn’t think were funny. I stayed with the date in spite of red flags and then quietly ghosted him later. To just bluntly go “nah” and move on felt like a win.

I don’t know how he got my actual phone number. I had friends who had known me for years in Shanghai who never knew my phone number, because WeChat was so all powerful that almost everyone called and texted using WeChat exclusively. He also found my personal email address and, again, asked for a job referral for his friend. Because that’s a rational thing to expect from a woman who just blocked you.

He then followed me on every single platform I was on—Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, Medium—and left comments on every post, with one particularly eerie one on Medium saying “I came across your diary. Hehe. Interesting read.”

Then came my birthday. While the other comedians in our open mic sign-up group chat were wishing me “happy birthday,” Joe sent a message that read, “Happy birthday Vickie. No animosity intended.” The birthday wishes came to an abrupt halt. When one of the female comics asked him what he was on about, he said I had called him a racist.

I asked the group admin to boot him from the chat, stating clearly that I didn’t feel safe attending open mics with him knowing my whereabouts. The group admin, a white man, told me he didn’t think it was that big of a deal, that Joe probably just had a crush on me.

So I stopped going. I shrunk myself the way most women have done in the face of stalking and harassment.

Four months later, August 2020, I was out at an AC/DC tribute concert with a bunch of friends. It was a great night, until I saw my stalker across the room. I was immediately uncomfortable, but over the course of the night my friends’ and my boyfriend’s support helped me relax, and we ended the night in good spirits.

On our way home, we saw Joe leaving the concert, alone. My boyfriend turned to me and said, “Can I do it?”

By “it,” he meant the epic takedown speech he had been rehearsing in the shower every day for the past four months. My boyfriend had a front row seat of the anxiety I had suffered from the stalking, and had confessed to me that he had been crafting the perfect roast that he would deliver to my stalker. It was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, but knowing what I know from years of existing while female, we agreed it would be a bad idea to confront my stalker.

When a woman tells you to leave her alone, you leave her alone.

But in that moment, riding high on Highway to Hell, euphoria overrode my survival instincts, and I heard myself saying to my boyfriend: Go get him.

“Hold my beer.”

There was no yelling, no cursing. He simply said, “When a woman tells you to leave her alone, you leave her alone.” Followed by, “You make me ashamed to be a man.” 

The following morning, I woke up to a string of threatening texts from Joe, from a new number. My boyfriend also received threats on Facebook.

I know your Wechat ID, your number, your full name, where you work, your nationality. You made it personal and hostile. If your boyfriend wants to get in touch with me with more insults and threats, my arms are open :) all the best

I lived in fear and regret for many, many days afterwards, waiting for his next move. Nothing happened.

Until a year later.

I had missed comedy and decided to get back onstage. A friend booked me for a local show, put my name on a poster, and promoted it on WeChat. I was a bundle of nerves, but my friends, again, showed up and supported me. It felt incredible to use my voice again.

The following Tuesday night, my boyfriend’s phone and mine simultaneously started lighting up like the Fourth of July.

“Is this true!?” “What the hell is going on?” “Are you OK?!”

A story had appeared in multiple expat WeChat groups: a second hand account of a woman accusing my boyfriend of sexual harassment. It included his full name, photo, and enough details to identify his workplace.

My stalker had resurfaced—piling on in every group chat, claiming my boyfriend threatened to beat him to death.

With some triangulation, I was even able to get screenshot proof that the person who originated the rumor on WeChat was friends with my stalker.

The story was a familiar one, a dramatised but all-too-believable tale of an entitled, sexist, and racist white man groping a Chinese woman and insulting her for not sleeping with him. People were sharing it out of what must have been righteous urgency. The same message was also sent to my boyfriend’s company CEO.

This took a massive toll on both of us, psychologically and socially. There was no scenario in which I, as the Asian girlfriend, could come forward and defend him without looking like a fool and/or reaffirming everyone’s suspicion of his “yellow fever.” Any attempt from him to deny the allegation would just look like the many, many denials we’ve grown bored of since well before the #MeToo movement.

I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled together all of the screenshots, the threatening texts, the emails, comments from various platforms, and a recording of the takedown speech (I’m a comic, I record everything). With some triangulation, I was even able to get screenshot proof that the person who originated the rumor on WeChat was friends with my stalker. I compiled all of it into a 14-page Google Doc and sent it to my boyfriend’s company lawyer for the investigation.

Thankfully, my boyfriend’s company believed him. After a tense phone call with his company lawyer, he got off the phone and was silent for a few minutes. I asked him what was wrong, worrying that the company wasn’t on his side. He said, “It shouldn’t be this easy.” Meaning it shouldn’t be this easy to get off the hook when you’re accused of being a sexual predator.

But it is. It’s that easy. I explained to my cis white boyfriend that no woman in her right mind would have come forward with an accusation like this without a mountain of screenshots and proof. “I’m used to people not believing in me when I’m harassed, that’s why I keep receipts,” to which he replied, “That’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

I’m used to people not believing in me when I’m harassed, that’s why I keep receipts.

It took time, but eventually, I moved on. I went to therapy. I talked to friends who were willing to listen to this complicated story and believe me. Most importantly, I kept performing.

Often, #MeToo stories focus on psychological and physical damage, with an emphasis on violence. But what I always want to know when I read a #MeToo or stalker story is: Where did the victim disappear? Who could they have become without this predator’s attempt to exert control over their life?

If I stayed offstage, then my stalker would have won. His goal was to shut me up. And he weaponised #MeToo to do it.

I refuse to yield space. In a world that tries to silence women, using your voice is defiance. So resist, but keep receipts.