City Girl I
If you graphed how frequently I blogged, you would see a steady decline from daily, to three times a week, twice a week, and now once a week. Consequently, I think I have probably lost most of my blog readership. It's just hard to motivate myself to sit in front of a computer at home when I just got off an 8-hour (or more) shift of sitting in front of same at work.
Okay, excuse-mongering out of the way...
I dedicate this entry to Laura, who told me last night that me posting a new blog was more important than sleep. So here. I gift upon you: this.
A while ago I said I was going to write about walking alone. I have much to say on the subject, more than you would think, actually.
See, lately my life is the story of Becky taking on the big city, walking around between the tall buildings, dodging taxis and buses and huge concrete planters on the sidwalks, just me and my little old self. I don't mind that it's just me--in fact, I almost prefer it. That way I don't run the risk of annoying other people with my constant "Ooh! Catering tent! Let's go see if they're filming a movie!" and "Hey wait! Look at the mannequins in that window! Don't they somehow look like they're really in love?"
The thing about wandering around in the big city as a girl, though, is that sometimes, in some ways, it really sucks.
Take, for example, the guys who say stuff or whistle at girls on the street. Now I may be an extreme case, but a lot of girls are really bothered by this and there is nothing they can really do about it.
I guess I should be glad it's not anywhere near as bad here as in other places.... In Ecuador, it was a virtual guarantee if a girl passed a guy on the street or if he passed by in his car, he would say something, or whistle... or worse--and most common--he'd go Tssss! TSSSS!! It made my hairs stand on end. Every day. At least once per city block, from the place I left to the place I was going. EVERY time I walked passed that house they were constructing on the way to work. FOUR MONTHS I walked by that building, FOUR MONTHS I kept my head down as I walked by it, as if I had done something wrong, FOUR MONTHS they still kept up the same s#$@. It got old. And I got rageful, a little--no--a lot, to be honest. After a while you start to feel like it's the men who own the street and the women just get to walk there because the men allow it, and enduring the whistles is the price you have to pay for passing. Mexico is just as bad, right, Christie?
(Funny side note, eight straight months in Ecuador, I never said anything back to any of them. My last week there, though, a young-looking guy of about 14 was following me, "Tsss tsss"ing at me--this was no more, no less than any of the other guys had done, but at that exact moment, unfortunately for him, the months of pent-up rage finally came out: I did an about-face, looked him in the eye, and screamed at him loud enough to shatter neighboring windows, "F#*@ OFF!" His eyes bugged out and I swear he jumped backwards. He might not have understood my words, but I'm sure the delivery gave him a clue as to the theme. He scampered off with this tail between his legs. Ahhhh.... I felt GREAT after that. So, you know, got rid of one, anyway. It's sort of like swatting mosquitos in the Amazon though. You're really not going to deplete the supply. But I digress.)
So it could be that this past history makes me more sensitive to it here. Obviously here it's not as bad, but it still happens. And even when it doesn't, you're always aware that it could; you always have to have your guard up for it. Now there are things you can do to try to decrease the chances they'll say something, but they're not foolproof. If a guy's looking to say something to you, he's probably going to say it, whether or not you seem interested back. The only thing you can do is to ignore him. Unfortunately, it's not as simple as avoiding eye contact. He can sense you're aware of his presence, and therefore, obviously, hungry for some whistlin' or comments. So the trick is to give every indication that you don't even know they are there, and the most effective way of doing this is to actually not think about them (which is as hard as telling yourself to not think about a pink elephant). It's not enough just to pretend you don't notice them--they always know you're faking indifference somehow. I think it's because you tense up, waiting for them to say something. But if you actually will yourself to not think of it, sometimes you can get by.
It bothers me that all this should even be necessary. Be necessary to walk the streets of your own town in peace.
Tomorrow's installment: Walking alone at night (Bitching Part II)
Today's question is for the chicas out there: Am I just overly sensitive? Does this stuff get to you like it does to me?
Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Poker at John and Christy's
Percent Chance: 95%
Okay, excuse-mongering out of the way...
I dedicate this entry to Laura, who told me last night that me posting a new blog was more important than sleep. So here. I gift upon you: this.
A while ago I said I was going to write about walking alone. I have much to say on the subject, more than you would think, actually.
See, lately my life is the story of Becky taking on the big city, walking around between the tall buildings, dodging taxis and buses and huge concrete planters on the sidwalks, just me and my little old self. I don't mind that it's just me--in fact, I almost prefer it. That way I don't run the risk of annoying other people with my constant "Ooh! Catering tent! Let's go see if they're filming a movie!" and "Hey wait! Look at the mannequins in that window! Don't they somehow look like they're really in love?"
The thing about wandering around in the big city as a girl, though, is that sometimes, in some ways, it really sucks.
Take, for example, the guys who say stuff or whistle at girls on the street. Now I may be an extreme case, but a lot of girls are really bothered by this and there is nothing they can really do about it.
I guess I should be glad it's not anywhere near as bad here as in other places.... In Ecuador, it was a virtual guarantee if a girl passed a guy on the street or if he passed by in his car, he would say something, or whistle... or worse--and most common--he'd go Tssss! TSSSS!! It made my hairs stand on end. Every day. At least once per city block, from the place I left to the place I was going. EVERY time I walked passed that house they were constructing on the way to work. FOUR MONTHS I walked by that building, FOUR MONTHS I kept my head down as I walked by it, as if I had done something wrong, FOUR MONTHS they still kept up the same s#$@. It got old. And I got rageful, a little--no--a lot, to be honest. After a while you start to feel like it's the men who own the street and the women just get to walk there because the men allow it, and enduring the whistles is the price you have to pay for passing. Mexico is just as bad, right, Christie?
(Funny side note, eight straight months in Ecuador, I never said anything back to any of them. My last week there, though, a young-looking guy of about 14 was following me, "Tsss tsss"ing at me--this was no more, no less than any of the other guys had done, but at that exact moment, unfortunately for him, the months of pent-up rage finally came out: I did an about-face, looked him in the eye, and screamed at him loud enough to shatter neighboring windows, "F#*@ OFF!" His eyes bugged out and I swear he jumped backwards. He might not have understood my words, but I'm sure the delivery gave him a clue as to the theme. He scampered off with this tail between his legs. Ahhhh.... I felt GREAT after that. So, you know, got rid of one, anyway. It's sort of like swatting mosquitos in the Amazon though. You're really not going to deplete the supply. But I digress.)
So it could be that this past history makes me more sensitive to it here. Obviously here it's not as bad, but it still happens. And even when it doesn't, you're always aware that it could; you always have to have your guard up for it. Now there are things you can do to try to decrease the chances they'll say something, but they're not foolproof. If a guy's looking to say something to you, he's probably going to say it, whether or not you seem interested back. The only thing you can do is to ignore him. Unfortunately, it's not as simple as avoiding eye contact. He can sense you're aware of his presence, and therefore, obviously, hungry for some whistlin' or comments. So the trick is to give every indication that you don't even know they are there, and the most effective way of doing this is to actually not think about them (which is as hard as telling yourself to not think about a pink elephant). It's not enough just to pretend you don't notice them--they always know you're faking indifference somehow. I think it's because you tense up, waiting for them to say something. But if you actually will yourself to not think of it, sometimes you can get by.
It bothers me that all this should even be necessary. Be necessary to walk the streets of your own town in peace.
Tomorrow's installment: Walking alone at night (Bitching Part II)
Today's question is for the chicas out there: Am I just overly sensitive? Does this stuff get to you like it does to me?
Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Poker at John and Christy's
Percent Chance: 95%
posted by Becky at
2:35 AM
6 Comments:
It does get to me sometimes, but I try to not let it. At Becky's request, I am going to tell two stories.
Ahem.
A few days ago, I was walking in to work, and there were two guys hanging up a banner on the side of the building. So as I walked towards them, I noticed they were looking at me. And as I walked past them, I glanced over and they were still looking at me. And as I walked in the door, I peeked, and they were still looking at me. Like necks craned, all turned around so they wouldn't miss one moment. Of me walking from my car, holding my coffee cup. So I turned to them, stared a while, and then said, "WHAT?!?!?!" It was very cathartic. I didn't stick around to see their reactions though. They probably laughed at me, but whatever. I felt better.
However. Sometimes it is just more fun to play along. When we were visiting friends in Atlanta, every single car that drove past would honk at us and yell out the window. (Ahh, the South...) Nothing bad, just like "hey ladies!" or something like that. So our friends, Meghan and Jennifer, would just wave, and yell hello back. And take it as a compliment. I kind of like that. Because really, that's all it is. Those construction guys are not really seriously considering fondling you or leaving their wives for you, they just want to say hello and tell you that they appreciate your young, perky butt. So just say Thanks. It puts you in a much better mood than if you get all angry about it. Then you walk away thinking, "dang, I guess I do look hot," rather than, "those assholes, I hate men." Much better for the chi.
By
Anonymous, at 8/02/2006 09:23:00 PM
I like Laura's reasoning. I'd love to be walking down the street and for a group of women to shout out something like, "hey hotty". Man, that would so make my day. I'm not holding my breath though.
By
Anonymous, at 8/03/2006 07:55:00 AM
See, I think there is a subtle difference, Laura, between your two examples. The guys shouting, "Hey ladies! How you doin'?" do it more for the purpose of engaging you in a conversation. Whereas the other, more lazy way (whistling, leering) seems more akin to cavemen pointing and grunting: "Unnggghh. Woman. UUUnngghh. Me want." To me, the first way is more about knowing a person, and second is more about owning them. It just feels different.
By
Becky, at 8/03/2006 09:49:00 AM
I too have been subject to some of these remarks, most of the time I take Laura's perspective. I have also been known on a drunken night of dancing to make my own remarks at men (quite fun actually)! Only once did something a man said to me really get under my skin. Once I was on Lasalle walking home and a guy on a bike rode by me and said "I could eat you!" It gave me the heebie jeebies and I could not get that out of my head for a while. Pretty sick, I mean who ACTUALLY says things like that, aparently that guy.
By
Anonymous, at 8/04/2006 01:04:00 AM
UUUUUH! Grody.
Dude.
By
Becky, at 8/04/2006 02:45:00 AM
I definitely think there's a fine line between being friendly and being creepy when it comes to men and their approach to random women. Unfortunately, I doubt there's much that you can do about the men who give you that look or make asanine comments. Not only do they lack the tact to understand that their behavior is just rude and belittling, they probably don't care as well. No point in trying to change them--you'll just get more frustrated. But be rest assured, that not all men are like that. Focus on the good ones, and keep ignoring the fools.
By
gophilipgo, at 8/11/2006 01:59:00 PM
Post a Comment
<< Home