Men may be Hazardous to your Health (Mental)
I recently discussed the phenomenon of men making comments to women on the street with one of my male classmates, known as The Straight One (though this is a misnomer as there are actually two). Obviously I don't mean comments on world events, I mean comments that run the gamut from shy compliments to outright propositions for sex. The Straight one shared with me that when he is feeling low he sometimes goes down to the Castro to be hit on by strangers until his self-esteem has returned. He doesn't understand what the big deal is; shouldn't it just make women feel good about themselves? My answer is that it's never the same for women. The Straight One can choose if he wants to be the object of such attention or not; when he tires of it he can go home to his girlfriend. A woman can't.
It's very hard for a man to grasp that the attention of male strangers is no index of a woman's appeal. Maybe some women get more attention than others, I won't pretend to know. But in any urban area in the U.S., it's simply part of the female condition. Just about every woman appeals to some male demographic, no matter what her shape, size, age or complexion. Sure, looking good to them will get you attention, but as your appeal decreases in their eyes, so does any power to intimidate them into silence. Looking unappealing just encourages them to think they're doing you a favor by complimenting your appearance. In other words, it's not a woman's fault if men pay attention to her, and she doesn't have to be happy about it.
It's a tough issue. For one thing there are plenty of women out there who enjoy the praise, so how's a lothario to know whether his behavior is an offense or a mitzvah? For another, there's a cultural component to all this. Traveling to other some other countries will throw this point into relief, but it applies in the U.S. too. I think it's less usual for white men to be raised in an environment where that's acceptable (then again, maybe it just seems that way to me because I'm 50% tits and ass by volume). So does a woman have a right to get upset at a man who comes from a different tradition?
The summer I spent back in New York studying Biology, I had a lab partner named Gail. We got along very well, and began hanging out away from campus. Gail would have none of this male heckling. Once we were passed on 86th street by a man who, as he passed, Barry White-ed out, "So beautiful." Gail turned around and snapped, "Aw, thanks, I just feel so validated now." Another time she was giving me a ride to the subway and as we stopped at a red light a young man nodded suggestively, and let out a salacious "hey" in her direction. She responded by screwing up her nose and making an unmistakeable fart sound.
I admired Gail's technique. Some women are bothered by that behavior more than others, and some aren't bothered at all. But those who are bothered rarely do anything but internalize their anxiety. My mother claims to give the finger, but I've never seen her do it. My thought process in the moment is usually something like: 1. Eek! 2. Try to look cool. 3. This guy needs to be taught a lesson. 4. No he doesn't, you're being a snob. He probably meant well. 5. Is he making fun of me? 6. Does he really think he has a shot with me? 7. Seven years ago, would he have had a shot with me? 8. I must be looking good today. 9. Why am I so insecure that this kind of crap makes me feel good about myself? 10. I should be ashamed of myself, I'm the worst feminist in the world. 11. Focus! I have a right to be pissed! 10. But what if he was screwing up all his courage to talk to me and I shoot him down? 12. Rudeness is rudeness. You'll be doing him a favor if you set him straight about what women want. 13. But some women do want this. I should stop being so stuffy. 14. Am I being elitist? 15. What if I say something and he laughs at me? 16. What if the situation escalates? 17. What if someone I know sees me and thinks I like it?
Et cetera, et cetera. All of this happens in about half a second of course. I usually end up ignoring it--or worse, giggling nervously. What's hard to convey is the frustration at knowing someone can throw you like that. And once the comment is out there, all your options are bad ones. If you stop and tell him off, you'll just be tense and won't really feel any better, secure in the conviction he'll ignore your feedback. If you do anything that might be interpreted as encouragement you'll be mad at yourself for giving in. If you ignore him, you'll feel bad about treating another human being like he's invisible.
One day during that same summer in New York, I was walking innocently down Montague Street when a man stopped at a red light leaned out of his car window to sing my praises. I decided to follow Gail's example. So I walked up to him and said, "Look, I'm sure you meant no harm, but I think you should know that your comment makes me really uncomfortable. And you should also know that a lot of women feel that way, even if they're too scared to say anything." The man blinked at me for a moment, then added, not unkindly, "I like you just the way you are." I gave up. "Thank you," I sighed, and walked on.
The fact is, you really can't stop to argue every time it happens or you'll never get through the day. So, basically, the best you can do is work on not letting it get to you and whine to the converted on your blog.
1 Comment(s):
- Posted by at September 25, 2006 11:48 AM | Permanent Link to this Comment
Dan and I were once stopped on the median of the Baltimore-Washington Parkway (at night) because the traffic had come to a dead standstill and my car overheated to the point where it started making a hissing, boiling noise and smoke poured out of the engine. So we grabbed the cats in their carrier and hightailed it away from the car in case, you know, it should explode.
Then this guy leaned out his window, while his car - stopped by the traffic so that he was forced to sit right next to us indefinitely - and yelled "Yeah, I'll take a piece of that!"
He was *so* lucky I was too busy to slash his tires, because I was almost overwrought enough to have done it. Sigh.
(allison)