Women’s bodies and public space

Some things are getting better here: my housing is great, the food is great, I have AC, and friends, and classes are manageable. This is all good news! However, I’m still very worn down by the constant harassment on the street. I mean constant. I can’t go a block without getting multiple lascivious looks, an “Allo madam!” or “Hey lady!” or “Allo Allo Alloooo!” Today two men on a scooter made kissy faces at me for half a block. I was ready to deck them.

Apparently, I need to cultivate my scowl. Yesterday I was in a foul mood from the short story we had to read this week (about rape) and I went to buy some consolatory cookies at the store, which is only 2.5 blocks away. And in that short walk, I became so angry (from the day, from the story, from the catcalls) that I had this magnificent scowl on my face. I mean, I smile a LOT, I rarely scowl, but this? This scowl was a piece-de-resistance. I mean, it was maybe the most intimidating scowl of my life. It was that good. If I had known what good fortune it would bring, I would have been proud. So when the male employee at the grocery store stared at me for a few minutes and then offered to help me (these men frequently try to carry my basket around for me) I snarled a rather irritated “NO!” at him, and he left me alone for the rest of my shopping trip. Now THIS is a revelation. Can I stop the catcalling by being a scowling, grumpy, mean, squinty-eyed angry person?

So this morning during my run at the park, when I usually get stared a lot at but not catcalled, I tried very hard to look like I was really pissed off and ready to bite someone’s head off if they talked to me. It’s uncomfortable to do, but I had some residual grumpiness from yesterday, and it worked. Most of the men walking laps around the park stopped staring at me after one or two laps.

On my walk to school today, I tried to scowl the whole way there, but I was talking on the phone with Matthew and it’s nearly impossible to scowl when I’m talking with him. So I got harassed by a little boy (“Allo! Allo? Allo!” and he ran after me), stared at by a number of rickshaw drivers, and kissy-faced by the aforementioned men on scooters. Still, I scowled more than usual, and I’m going to keep working on it. Matt and I were lamenting the fact that there is no international standard for “F**k you!” Why not?? Who’s responsible for these sort of things? They need to get on it.

Somewhere in here is a more serious post about women’s bodies as public property, and the privilege that men don’t realize they have in making comments and insults. Public visibility (at least by Western-looking women) is apparently seen as being available for men’s attention. I sometimes find myself quite envious of the women who ride and walk around town in burqas. Although I’m sure they face other types of harassment and discrimination, I’m willing to bet they don’t get catcalled, hooted and hollered at by men looking for one thing only. What a relief it would be to be able to walk to the store unnoticed. My fair complexion and light hair makes invisibility nearly impossible. My classmates here who are Indian-American rarely get catcalled or harassed. And the male students here seem shocked when we talk about it. Why are they surprised? (I know the answer, but that’s a post for another day.)