It's summertime (to some extent) and the living is hard. Women such as myself are pounding the pavement in the city in breezy work dresses for the day and various states of underdress for the night (or vice versa, whatever). And as arms, shoulders and thighs emerge from the oppressive fabric bindings of cold weather, men are loosing their minds.
Not that it's so easy to be young, female and on two legs in the wintertime. Men who speak ill garbage to women in the streets rarely take a vacation. However, the presence of puffy coats and snow boots tend to give some layer of protection from the out and out shameful objectification that emerges in the summer. Sorta like lambskin condoms, if you will. Not that I have ever used one, because I don't plan on getting pregnant while wearing a condom. MESSAGE. Anyway, men are making my daily life more miserable than usual and I am pretty pissed about it. 
Forget Ikea, THIS is my Vietnam
I can deal with men driving me insane by being non-committal or elusive or simply not knowing how to function in a relationship or being bad lovers or being great lovers who are so great they just gotta share it with every Tom, Dick and Sally or who I am just not in to or who are just not in to me. I can deal with those men because I have signed up for dealing with them. I can take them or leave them or work with them. But when it comes to the men in the street, I didn't ask for their conversation or company.
Nothing a woman wears is an open pass for harassment. And while I certainly get the worst treatment when my hemlines are at the "questionable" point, even when I have on my work gear, I gotta deal with some man demanding that I smile or TELLING me to stop and talk to him. The best part is when I reject one of this miscreants (usually in a polite way, depending on how he came at me) and I have to hear some commentary about "Fuck that bitch, she ain't that cute" or "She ain't got no ass anyway!" when I walk away. If I wasn't cute, why did you call me "gorgeous"? And how dare you comment about my body when I never invited you to appraise it in the first place?
If you haven't guessed, most of the men who are causing me this frustration are low-class street urchins. They are hugging the block when I leave for work in the AM and when I stumble in from the club in the earlier AM. Nothing about how I dress or carry myself on an average day would imply that I would cavort with these sort of men. But we know that street niggas aren't best known for their ability to be perceptive and reasonable. I don't have a problem with "Hey miss lady, how are you?" or "You look nice". But when someone is visibly sizing up every inch of your body? That's not okay. When someone gets angry that you don't want to talk to them? That's insane. When someone demands that you pay them some attention? That's ridiculous.
I've asked some of these men before, "When you wake up in the morning, is it your express goal to ruin as many Black women's days as possible?" Of course "express goal" and even "wake up in the morning" are foreign terms to these useless niggas, so I haven't really gotten anywhere with that beyond solidifying their belief that I'm just a stuck-up bitch. And one with a flat ass at that. I just fear that my demise will come after I have barked on some dude and informed him "Bitch, even with a small butt I am too fucking good for you ANYWAY! Too good looking, too smart, too motherfucking everything and I wouldn't matter if I had five titties and six toes, I would still be light years out of your motherfucking league!" And then, boom boom pow.
Part of the reason I get so miffed when people try and tell me that Hip-Hop has no measurable impact on grown-ups is because of behavior like this. I know that men whistled at pretty ladies and made rude comments about big brown thighs for decades before anyone ever rocked a mic, but I also know that Rap music has helped to completely brainwash our Black men and women about concepts of masculinity and male behavior. You sit around all day listening to 'bitch' this, 'ho' that, 'I just wanna fuck you', 'come here trick' and tell me it won't have some impact on how you view the world. BULLSHIT! And everyone who has tried to convince me otherwise has had some obvious signs of brainwashing in their very own behavior!
God forbid I have some ice cream. And you know I live for a McDonald's cone in the summer. 99 cent and only 150 calories*. So I'm bopping down the block with a cone and what do you know? One of your cousins is salivating like I'm deep throating a dildo. Or some knucklehead has to ask "Can I have some?" Depending on how bad my temperament is (it's a delicate equation of how many men have disturbed me that day times what time of the month it is divided by what else is going on in my life), I will either tell him "I rather stick the whole thing up my nose" or "Go to hell" or I'll just through the whole thing down and say "Thanks for ruining my fucking day." or I'll say "I'd rather die" or whatever I can come up with to try my damnedest to make them feel as uncomfortable as they have made me.
Before you apologists start chastising me for berating the Black man instead of trying to help him, please believe I have. I have told men "Hey, I don't deserve that", "That isn't the way you approach a lady", "I didn't ask to be spoken to that way" and even "You are old enough to be my father, if not my grandfather. If you want the respect you deserve as an elder, you have to carry yourself with some dignity." Think it works? The worst thing you can do, it seems, is dare to take ownership of your own body in the face of some lost souls who don't even own their own minds.
So it's summer and the cursing, spitting, dismissive eye roll, reproachful glare, snide remark arsenal is ready and already in use for those who dare challenge my ability to walk the streets without being made to feel like a piece of meat at best and a target at worst. And yet, I still feel powerless. The only think I really can do is to talk to younger Black boys (and girls) and help them to understand how this behavior makes women feel in hopes that the mini-Toldjas running around will not have to suffer as I have when they get older.
*Awaiting the onslaught in the comments section*
Sister Toldja
*Make sure they don't overfill the cone. A serving is only 3.5 ounces, but they will sometimes give you much more!
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Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I Owe You Nothing
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22 props:
Love it.
Many Black women feel the same exact way you do TRUST!
I wonder when this became part of our culture? I wonder if a young woman walking down a Brooklyn, Philly, Chicago, etc street in 1950 had to endure the same type of harrassment? This is why I avoid certain places or dread when I have to visit family & such.
Thats so funny!(icecream up the nose Ha)
I feel ya.
There is a system I have: to walk down the street without being disrespected.
No eye contact.
Always speak back with a little smile. Which means even though I am not giving you my number, I am not too bouguie to speak to you.
Always say "I gotta man, and no he wont allow me to have friends"
After being called b*tches and h*es so many times its just not worth it.
I actally have had a beer bottle thrown at me, while I was walking down the street with my daughter. (simply because I didnt speak)
Hard out here for a lady.
@FLAMBOYANTchiq- How could I forget the "I have a man" defense! It hardly ever works. Number one response: "What, your man won't let you have any friends?" Um...if I wanted to be your "friend", I wouldn't have told you about my made-up man in the first place! Or it would have been presented in the context of "Well, I must warn you, I have a man...." Saying "Sorry, I am married." should be a conversation ender! Uggggggh!
Two weeks or so ago, I'm boogieing down 7th heading to 34th Street minding my damn business and I get "psst, yo mami, come here" What the Hell?? I called my boyfriend and had to ask is this what passes for an approach these days? I'm still trying to figure out what in that comment was meant to be appealing enough for me stop and respond. I pity the young women of today if this is what qualifies as a valid pick up line. I mean, really "Yo". I have done my best to teach my girls how they should be treated and treasured and give in kind. I will darn sure teach my boy the same. Yo mami indeed.
Great post, and great tip abt the ice cream cones! I never knew that.
I've been perfecting my "walking down the street mean-mug & no eye contact" stroll since I was 14. Sometimes it works, but it also has the effect of the desirable men thinking that I'm mean and thus unapproachable. *sigh*
I've never had a guy call me names, luckily. But I have had lot of the persistent ones, who want your number even though you got a man, a side dude and a daddy with a shotgun. Sometimes its just easier to give up the dang number and just never answer the phone.
You aren't alone Toldja. This type of behaviors pisses me off frankly, and is some of the more disturbing I deal with on a regular basis. I just decided to own the "stuck up bitch" title a long time ago, because I certainly wasn't going to lower my standards. And no, trying to teach them the right way to talk to a woman (starting with treating her like a human being) doesn't work much, because there's a lot of self hatred and cultural contradiction (the culture they choose to be exposed to anyway). Even man whores back in the day knew how to talk to a lady in a more respectful tone. Things like this make me weep for some of our young black men. It also makes me want to have a son one day, so I can send a male out into the world who doesn't act this way.
And Jubilance, that's what the fake name and number are for, lol. I had that worked out by the time I got to college. At one point, I knew my fake number better than my real one. And that was me rejecting them nicely.
Your post reminded me of this:
http://blog.blanknoise.org/
so... the other day I'm walking down the street in my, "I'm not really doing anything today" outfit (jeans & t-shirt). And I really don't feel like I resemble a street walker/prostitute/jezeble/hoe/etc. in any way, but a plethora of men decided that it was appropriate to honk their horns at me... I was so annoyed... I bet some poor soul has wondered into the world of prostitution for that very reason. Men really are idiots sometimes.
I stopped to actually speak one day and he asked me my name, I told him and he was like "naw u lying!" I gave him my real name and he told me I was lying and if I didn't want to talk I shouldn't have stopped, then he called me a bitch. ooh I let him have it! After the oh no you didn'ts I told him my name was actually Equinox and the fool believed me!
TRUE....do you every get sssssssssssssssssss sista sista like F**KING snake please!!!
I def. feel you and summertime is the right time. At the first sign of some skin (arm or leg), it's on. I'm not sure which bothers me more, the solo dude who maybe follows you a few steps or the crowds of dudes who are literally hollering at you about trying to holla at you and then dissing you when you politely smile, shake your head and walk on by. You are damned if you do and if you don't. Assume you gave this type of man the time of day, based on his behavior what are the chances he wants anything more than to hit and be out. Either way, he's gonna call you ho and and be disrespectful...
Ms. Toldja,
In that way my mind works (maybe not like others, lol), this gave me a ‘flashback’ moment.
To an Alicia Keys song, “A Woman’s Worth”, and, specifically, the video that went with it. Remember it? Starts with that young man, maybe 13, hangin’ out on the corner (he even has a NY baseball cap on, lol) and Ms. Keys walks by and we get the “Woooeee!!! Hey! Yo! SHAWRTY! Ya gonna give me some Time or what?”
Hummmm. Guess the real-life translation of this, even exacerbated, isn’t so positive.
I’m wondering now about its tenuous connection, whether males who absorb, and then act on, these concepts, could they ever even guess at “A Woman’s Worth”?
I do honestly feel for you. I have no answers. But at least I can try an empathize and understand; for your sake. And for all the other women who have commented on similar occurrences.
Final note: Please, on a personal level, don’t feel so bad about exposing unhealthy, negative elements. Even when it involves those you wish it didn’t. That’s not “Hatin”. It is called Honesty. Never be hesitant about that. Geez, the world needs more of that, not less!
I can't imagine what anyone could say to refute what you wrote, ST.
I rarely comment, but always read, and this summer right HERE man...is hotter than pervious ones.
I really hate walking where lots of menfolk are simply because I stop being Neicy, and become, "Say brown," "pssst" "Excuse me, lemme holla atcho pretty ass a minute"
After that it's pretty much the same insult, "U too tall, ol stuck up bish!" "That ain'tcho hair no way" "Ugly hoe" I imagine everyone has the same insult book.
With that being said, I say keep on keeping on, and I was high pissed when McDonald's upped that cone to .99. It's been .89 for the longest and I demand it go back! lol
Wait.
After the oh no you didn'ts I told him my name was actually Equinox and the fool believed me!
LMAO! Stop it, Lil E!
Oh you KNOW I'm all too familiar with this. All too familiar. It's way past the brink of annoying and even landed me to conclude that I am just tired of being attractive at times. Some people didn't understand that when I said it. My response: Walk a mile in my shoes and put up with what I've had to in regards to these knuckleheads. It's tiring and I do not enjoy it.
I HATE being approached. Everywhere I go there's someone trying to talk to me, get my number, being rude, etc etc etc I CANT TAKE IT!!!
*whoosaaah* I've blogged on this so many times I dont know what else to say. And with the onslaught of the summer here in Chicago, I know there are more stories to be told too...sigh. I'm not excited about that part of summer. Not one bit.
I feel your pain a trillion times over.
I been getting cursed out since I was 11. Started cursing back at 13 as a means of defense and to take back control of my body and space because words and sexual suggestions should not be hurled at a female when she walks down the street (lets not even mention the inappropriate age of the girls these men sometimes stalk!). Men think this shit is a part of life for females and the sickest part is that some of these so called 'men' have daughters at home. That right there shows you that this is a cultural mental illness that needs to be corrected. I wasn't scared of getting robbed or raped, I was scared of men who used words I didn't understand and spoke of acts I knew nothing about. It's a sad, sad place to exist.
Thanks for letting me know I am not the only one.
I noticed this issue has been decreasing for me with each passing year somewhere around when I turned 27 or 28. Not that I miss it but I do feel some type of way about it. I'm like hmpfh, am I so old in my early 30's that I don't even get a "hey girl" anymore? I don't even look that old, I'm always getting carded at the liquor store. Still guys that look my own age are calling me miss. Maybe it's how I dress or maybe I'm giving off some type of vibe.
d so much. I am tired of being eye-raped, I get it whether I have on my back-the-fuc*-armor or am scantily clad like you described. Quite frankly it troubles me I have become so used to it, and expect it, and have become hardened because of it....
Unfortunately, unwanted attention on the street is part of living in NY. I grew up with it,learned to hold my own in defending myself. I left the Bronx nine years ago for VA and I realized that it's a NY thing.
My mother is Muslim and she wears a Burka. I was walking with her into the grocery store yesterday and this nasty-fat-nasty overbite with a lisp having dude says to my mother, "Hey Moslem Lady! I always wanted to ask - do yall get hot in that?" My mother politely answered, "You get used to it after a while (in a very polite - obviously midwestern accent)." This fool says, "Well I just had to ask, 'specially since it was two beautiful ladies. Dis mus be yo daughter. She fine as hell. AND she don't got the same stuff on so you musta had her after you got to this country."
Ugh, I hate being hollered at on the street. And in New Orleans, the men are not shy about it, either. They guys are always twice my age and drunk, or the young ones are yelling "hey black!", and it does make me occasionally wish that I were less attractive so I wouldn't have to hear it.
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