I went down to Zuccotti Park for the first time since the Occupy Wall Street protests started yesterday. My friend was in town, and he expressed interest in going down to the area just to have a better idea geographically where the hotbed of action has been taking place.

Admittedly, I’ve been pretty hesitant to go anywhere near the protests. Being a person who’s anxiety is so easily triggered, being on site at a protest just hasn’t seemed like the place for me. When he said he’d like to go down, I took a look at what was going on event wise and it seemed like things were going to be sufficiently uneventful so I felt relatively safe going into the area. On guard, certainly… but not fearful.

We were there about 4pm, and the park was pretty empty. The perimeter of the park is surrounded with metal fence barricades, and from what I saw, there’s only one break in them to let people in and out of the park with an officer assigned to watch the entrance and exit point. The park was relatively quiet. Most of it was pretty empty. There were workers stringing up Christmas lights on the trees in the park, and there was a small group of protesters towards the Broadway side of the park.

I had no interest in going inside, I’m not a fan of being trapped somewhere that has proven in the past month not to be safe, but I figured we’d be alright walking on the sidewalk around the perimeter, just observing what was going on.

I don’t feel that way anymore.

We were walking along Broadway when it happened. A woman inside of the park started chanting “Photograph the police! Photograph the police!” It must have been the combination of the words “photograph” and “police” that sent a handful of cops that were standing outside the park diving over the barricade, one of which had been standing behind where we were walking.

The next thing I know, I had been grabbed from behind by the arms… the way you might grab somebody when you’re trying to move through a crowded bar and a firm male voice said, “Move.” I froze. Repressing every urge in my body to start freaking loudly out by being touched from behind by a stranger. The hands let go, and the man passed.

“Who the fuck…” I started to yell to the man, but then I saw the back of the jacket of the man who grabbed me. It read NYPD. Realizing that it probably wasn’t a good idea to antagonize the police in a place where I’d seen photos of bloodied faces, I finished the phrase under my breath. “do you think you are?”

I began to shake and become nauseous. I had made it through the incident unscathed, but immediately the scenarios of what could have been were racing through my mind. I was furious that I was being touched from behind by a stranger like that. Thankfully my instinct had been to freeze and comply, but what if I’d reacted the opposite? What if I’d instinctively tried to fight him off? What if I’d started to panic? What if I started to scream?

I could have easily been another one of the protestors zip tied, beaten and arrested just for walking down the street near the protest site.

That, my friends, is terrifying.

There are no words for what it feels like to be terrified of the people that are supposed to be protecting you.

None.

Just horrible, horrible feelings.