hey motherfuckers*

Today while walking down the street minding entirely my own business, a man came up behind me and began thrusting his hips while yelling out for everyone to hear, “I would f*** that!”

Daily while walking anywhere in Haiti, we as young female “blans” are sexually harassed in a multitude of languages and in a variety of ways. Most times men will just yell things out to us in Creole, other times they know enough English to tell us we’re beautiful, or that they would indulge in many dirty sexual things with us. They’ll start out by saying, “White girls are sweet…” And sometimes men will trace their fingers along my arm as I pass, they’ll grab at my legs as I walk by, or if they’ve tricked me into dancing with them they think that’s justification to sneak a squeeze of my bum bum.

Ok so the lacking gender equality and blatant degradation of women and outrageously high sexual harassment in a developing country is no surprise to anyone. At least I would hope not. And obviously I have my own issues with this and this is why I’m working for an organization that recognizes and emphasizes the importance of female empowerment. So that’s not what my beef is in this blog entry. Quite the opposite, actually. My beef is with American society, not Haiti’s.

The society that has taught me to be flattered when these things happen. The society that has crippled my self-esteem to make me believe that being hollered at on the street means I’m a desirable woman, worthy of the attention of a man. As if that’s something I want or need. Now believe me, I recognize all of my own personal issues deep within this, but I can’t be all to blame here. We live in a society that tells me I must be a certain size, I must dress a certain way, and I as a responsible woman need to prepare myself for if and probably when I will get raped.

A society that tells me that by dressing provocatively I am “asking” to get raped. A society that sympathizes with rapists. A society that tells me to walk like I’m on a mission, keep my keys in my hand, avoid dark alleys, don’t consume alcohol in the presence of men, or ever…really. A society that’s telling me that getting sexually harassed is my fault and that I’m asking for it. A society that justifies that being raped can actually just be an “occupational hazard” of the job.

A society that leads me to feel validated when a man thrusts his hips behind me. I’m sorry…Haiti isn’t the only country with problems here if our society is turning out brains like mine.

So I’ve put up with this quite a few times now, especially now that I’m out and off the compound more this time around. And I’m realizing, freaking finally, that I’ve always been looking at it all wrong. It’s no longer a validation that I’m attractive or desirable. It’s repulsive. It is disgusting that a man thinks he can walk up behind a complete stranger and announce to the whole street that he would “f*** that.”

First of all, dude, you’re disgusting. Second of all, I would not in fact reciprocate or “consent” to the “f***ing of that” so you are wasting your time, or at the very least announcing that you would rape me. You’re on a roll, bro. Third, I’m a human being. A woman. An equal. So how dare you thrust your filthy hips at me and refer to me as if I’m an object of your desire. Fourth, your mama oughta slap you. Fifth, did I mention how disgusting you are? Sixth, what about my outfit and my actions was “asking” for that verbal violation you just gave me? Was it my dirty jeans? Sports bra? Must have been the greasy hair. And my sweaty face probably had “please publicly degrade me as a human being” written all over it. Thank God I kept my short skirt and heels at home today. Then who knows what would have happened.

These comments no longer flatter me, and the pink tinge that once decorated my cheeks is now red with fury. How dare you choose anything but respect for me as a stranger who has done nothing except the mistake of merely being in your presence. And how dare our society, for allowing me to believe this was flattery. For allowing it to sneak into my brain as some sort of twisted compliment that maybe I am actually pretty.

I am beautiful, dammit. And I don’t need your hip thrusts, your grabs, and your cat calls to tell me that. I need empowerment, I need equality, I need some bare minimum respect. And I’m the only one that can demand that for myself.

So there…f*** that, you hip thrusting fool.

my best friend madison is really quite phenomenal

fuck fuck fuck fuck

2day i get to see manar and she’ll be in my house and i’m gonna take her to yogurtini and we’re gonna listen to the mountain goats (bc the concert sold out OOPS)

and then 2moro we leave for minneapolis and we’ll see katie and morgan and it’s gonna be such a good weekend and i’m so excited

and then next week (ONE WEEK FROM TODAY!!) i leave for leakycon and i get to see valerie and lindsay and arielle and destiny and danica and kristen and wowowo i can’t wait I CAN’T WAIT

you guys when did my life get so awesome i love the people in my life so much

how many rules am i gonna break before you understand your double standards don’t mean shit to me

i know exactly what you say when i’m tryna away but that’s ok because i don’t let it get to me

someone come talk to me about how amazingly ahead-of-their-time feminist salt-n-pepa were plz

there’s this human in my life and all we ever talk about is gender inequality and my love of justin bieber and work and we could literally just talk for HOURS what does that say about me