Nancy Finton: I Never Saw His Face - The Moth

Summary

Podcast Summary: The Moth – Nancy Fenton: I Never Saw His Face

Introduction

In the episode titled "I Never Saw His Face," Nancy Fenton recounts a deeply personal and harrowing experience of assault and the subsequent psychological journey she underwent. Recorded live at The Moth main stage in 2000, under the theme "Smoke and Mirrors," Nancy’s story intertwines themes of fear, resilience, and self-perception.

Background: Seeking Adventure in New York City ([02:04] – [03:18])

Nancy begins by setting the scene of her life post-college. Eager for adventure, she moves to New York City, securing a sublet in Inwood and working as a bartender in an Italian restaurant in Tribeca. Describing herself as "the world's shyest bartender," she often felt the need to protect herself, leading her to develop a mental "protection system."

Developing a Mental Fortress ([03:19] – [05:00])

Every night after work, Nancy would endure the long walk home, traversing quiet and sometimes creepy streets. To guard against potential dangers, she crafted vivid mental stories where she confronts and overcomes a rapist through sheer wit and internal strength. She details, “I always won” ([04:30]), envisioning scenarios where her anger and calmness became her armor against harm.

The Reality: Assault in Norway ([05:01] – [07:00])

Three summers later, Nancy finds herself in Norway, working as a waitress in a tough restaurant. Amidst personal turmoil and isolation, the night of the assault unfolds. After a late-night gathering, Nancy opts to walk home, proudly flaunting her new leather shoes and miniskirt. She describes the moment of terror: “I still have this millisecond in my mind, frozen there” ([06:45]), capturing the split-second before the attack when she hears “somebody else's shoes behind me running” ([07:00]).

The Assault Encounter ([07:01] – [09:30])

Nancy vividly describes the assault, emphasizing her inability to see the attacker’s face as he forces her into bushes. Despite the fear, her prepared mental scripts shift her response. She begins to communicate, blending English and Norwegian in an attempt to de-escalate: “It's okay, I said. It's okay. It's alright. Everything's going to be alright” ([08:15]). Her awareness of his chaotic demeanor leads her to engage differently than her imagined defender.

Turning the Tide: Physical Defense ([09:31] – [10:30])

As the assault progresses, Nancy’s desperation peaks. She pleads, “Could you please move your arm, I said, because I'm having some trouble breathing” ([09:50]). This prompts the attacker to relent momentarily, allowing Nancy to react swiftly. Grabbing her Swiss army shoulder bag, she pulls free, causing the assailant to flee.

Aftermath and Realization ([10:31] – [11:18])

Weeks later, Nancy learns through a brief news report that the same attacker assaulted another woman. This revelation forces her to confront the reality versus her mental narratives. She reflects, “I didn't tell the police. I didn't do what I could have done to protect this woman” ([11:00]). Nancy grapples with the reasons behind her silence, acknowledging the limitations of her self-constructed stories and the denial she maintained in the aftermath.

Reflection: The Power of Storytelling ([11:19] – [11:18])

Nancy concludes by examining her reliance on storytelling as a coping mechanism. She realizes that her internal narratives provided a sense of control and power, overshadowing the complexity of real-life situations. This introspection highlights the delicate balance between self-protection through imagination and confronting harsh realities.

Conclusion

Nancy Fenton’s story is a poignant exploration of fear, resilience, and the intricate ways in which we construct narratives to navigate traumatic experiences. Through her candid storytelling, she invites listeners to reflect on the interplay between imagination and reality, and the profound impact of our internal stories on our perceptions and actions.

Notable Quotes

“I always won.” ([04:30])
“I still have this millisecond in my mind, frozen there.” ([06:45])
“It's okay, I said. It's okay. It's alright. Everything's going to be alright.” ([08:15])
“Could you please move your arm, I said, because I'm having some trouble breathing.” ([09:50])
“I didn't tell the police. I didn't do what I could have done to protect this woman.” ([11:00])

Key Insights and Themes

Mental Protection Systems: Nancy’s creation of mental stories as a defense mechanism highlights the human psyche's capacity to prepare for and cope with potential threats.
Reality vs. Imagination: The stark contrast between Nancy’s narratives and her actual experience underscores the complexity of real-life trauma versus imagined scenarios.
Resilience and Response: Her ability to ultimately defend herself, even if unplanned, speaks to innate resilience and the ability to adapt under extreme stress.
Impact of Storytelling: Nancy’s reflection on her reliance on storytelling reveals how narratives shape our understanding and responses to personal experiences.

Final Thoughts

Nancy Fenton’s "I Never Saw His Face" is a compelling testament to the human spirit's strength and the nuanced ways we process and respond to trauma. Her story not only captivates but also offers profound insights into the interplay between imagination, reality, and healing.

Transcript

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Dan Kennedy (1:08)

Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy and the Moth features true stories told live without notes. All stories from the podcast are taken from our ongoing storytelling series in New York, Los Angeles and from our tour shows across the country.

Jay Allison (1:23)

Visit themoth.org hi, this is Jay Allison up on Cape Cod. Right now we're producing our second batch of stories for the Moth Radio Hour. Our first season aired on over 200 public radio stations around the country, which makes it a big hit by public radio standards. So we're doing it again. To hear the Moth Radio Hour on the air, contact your local public radio station and find out when they'll be airing it. We hope you like it. Thanks.

Dan Kennedy (1:49)

The story you're about to hear by Nancy Fenton is one of our favorites from the Vault. It was recorded live at the Moth main stage in 2000, and the theme of the night was Smoke and Mirrors, an evening of fact versus Fiction.

Nancy Fenton (2:04)

Summer after my junior year of college, I was ready for big adventure. Moved to New York City, found a sublet in Inwood, got a job in an Italian restaurant in Tribeca as the world's shyest bartender. The regulars used to lean over the bar and try to draw me out. So every night after work late at night I'd take the A train up to Inwood, like 200 something blocks. Then I'd walk through these really quiet streets to my building. Some nights that was really creepy, but I Actually wasn't afraid because I'd worked out my own protection system. Every night on the A train, I'd spin these stories in my head. Different details, but always the same plot. Me versus the rapist. And just by my wits and incredible internal strength, I always won. Some nights when I was really pissed off at the world, I'd imagine it like this. I'd just look inside myself and dredge up every bit of anger that I've stored since the womb and hurl it in his face. And in the face of this huge and incredible anger, he'd just run away. Most nights I took the opposite tack, though. And I would just imagine myself being so good, so calm and so kind that nobody could ever hurt me. Three summers later, I was living in Norway, waitressing again at a sweatshop of a restaurant. It was a cold, bleak summer with the sky hanging like this far over my head. And just broken up with a boyfriend, Just working all the time, trying to save some money to go travel and, you know, find myself or something again. The night it happened, we'd all gone out for one of the waitresses birthdays and it was like three in the morning. We were standing in front of the bar figuring out how everyone was getting home. Nobody was going my way. I remember one nice guy offered to take me in his cab and loop around and drop me off. I said, no, it's all right, I'll walk. I always walk. I remember it was a quiet night because I was wearing these new leather shoes. And after wearing Converse high tops for three years, I was really proud of these leather shoes and the way they'd make a sound on the concrete. And I was so proud of them. I'd worn this little miniskirt to show them off. So I walked through the lighted shopping street and up this residential hill. I lived up on the backside of the hill and on top of the hill there was this red brick church with a little park in front of it. And it was surrounded by buildings that looked like houses. But the next day when I went back there, I realized they were university buildings, so they were empty at night. I was crossing this little park when for the first time in my life, I understood what people meant when they say time froze. Because I still have this millisecond in my mind, frozen there. And inside it is one sound. Sound of somebody else's shoes behind me running. And one thought, if he grabs me, I'll kick him hard with my new shoes. But it was only a millisecond because I never got Time to turn my head around before there was an arm around my neck and a body passed up behind me. Every muscle on my body clenched. I just wanted to hurt him. But nothing moved, so I moved to plan B. Prideless begging, Please don't hurt me. I said, please don't hurt me. Please. I'll do what you want. I'll do anything you want. Just don't hurt me. He dragged me closer to some bushes and threw me on the ground and lay down on top of me. And immediately he took one arm and he shoved my face to one side so I never looked at his face. And with the other hand he started to tear up my clothes. And somehow when I was on the ground, the panic started to lower just a little bit and a little bit of my brain lit up and I started thinking. In probably the least neurotic moment of my life, I started taking in only essential information and translating into action. I knew two things. I think he must have said something, though I don't remember what, because I had this idea that he wasn't Norwegian. Maybe he had an American accent. And the other thing I knew is that it was different from the man in the story I wrote. In the story, he had focus, directed violence and rage. But this guy was just all over the place. I couldn't see him, but his movements were jerky and weird and he just seemed chaotic and kind of desperate. So I started talking in a mixture of English and Norwegian, just trying to find the language that would reach him. And I started to try to cut through the chaos and just calm him down. It's okay, I said. It's okay. It's alright. Everything's going to be alright. I know. Believe me, it's okay. I heard something rip, but I still felt covered up. I couldn't see myself or him. Luckily, I was wearing this vintage dress. It was thick material with good seams and I was wearing thick black tights because that's what you wear in a Norwegian summer. What do you want? I said. What do you want? What do you really want? This isn't it. I know this isn't it. Tell me what you want. I have no idea how long I'd been lying there with him, sort of struggling and tugging. And I was completely scared. And I knew that he could do what he wanted, that I still had no power in this situation, but still part of it. It just started to seem like I'd been there a long time and started to seem awkward and ridiculous, like you're just not good at this, I guess he started struggling harder because the arm that was leaning on my neck to push my face aside started to lean harder. I started to feel like I was choking. Could you please move your arm, I said, because I'm having some trouble breathing and I know you don't really want to hurt me. Then everything changed. He answered me one word. Okay, he said, and he jumped up and I jumped up and I had the Swiss army shoulder bag on. And he grabbed one strap and he pulled. And without thinking, I mean, I guess I was winning, I grabbed the other strap and pulled and he let go and he ran. So this would be a good place for the story to end. This is about where it ended when I wrote it down. Unfortunately, it's not where the real story ends. A few weeks later, I was cleaning my house and listening to the radio and the local news and I heard this 10 second news report. A young woman had been raped in front of the church on the hill by a stocky blond haired foreigner. Same guy. I didn't tell the police. I didn't do what I could have done to protect this woman. And the worst thing is that one of the things I felt when I heard this news report was a little bit of satisfaction. See, when I wrote the story, it was all clear. I played both parts. I knew what was in their heads and I knew that this woman had made a connection with this man and used her power to get rid of him. Somehow. When it happened, it almost seemed less real than the written story. And I just didn't get it. You know, was he inept or did I really make a connection? Did my plan really work? And when I heard the news report, I knew it had worked, I'd done it. So I thought about it a lot. I thought about why I didn't go to the police. And I know at the time I told myself that I hadn't really seen his face and it wouldn't do any good because I couldn't describe him. But that was bullshit. And I know that part of me felt that the police would just say, what a stupid woman for walking home so late and all drunk and alone in a miniskirt. But I could have gotten over that. And I think the real reason is that I was just so used to spinning these stories in my head. I was just so wrapped up in my version, you know, my power against the world and how it all affected me that I just didn't stop to realize that it wasn't only my story.