Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Stop undressing me with your eyes

As hinted at in my previous post, one thing I cannot STAND is being stared at by people who have no business doing so. I mean, I don't mind people-watchers and observers... I myself am one. But there's a difference between observing and staring. While whistling. And making smoochy noises.

Realization about cultural staring here dawned on me within days of coming to Nicaragua. I would be walking with a group through a heavily crowded area and would glance up to see several people staring at us simultaneously. Um, creepy. But easy enough to shrug off and ignore if you're part of a group.

I'm a big fan of taking walks around the neighborhood for the exercise, to observe life, to explore, to pray, and to just get out of the house when I'm restless. I usually go at night because it's cooler, (Yes Mom, I know I promised you that I wouldn't walk by myself...but I have been. I'll begin my profuse apologizing as soon as I get home) and I've not had any problems with anyone trying to assault me or anything. I've been trusting that God will protect me, He always has. I'm scarcely ever worried while walking, but I am extremely wary just in case.

I've made the mistake of walking around while looking nice...in a skirt, for instance. It was just what I happened to be wearing those days, and I never thought twice about it. Our neighborhood has security, lots of people are out walking by themselves as well, it's not yet the time of night when the rapists come out, what could possibly go wrong?

I started rethinking that when the whistling began. Ugh. The nice thing about being whistled at in the evening is that you can make incredibly dirty faces at the whistlers and they'll never know. And then they start the smoochy noises. What the heck am I, an animal? That's the same kissy noises I make when beckoning my trusty fat cat Poochmutt to my side. There's plenty of hoochies in stripper clothes walking around the vicinity--please go bother them instead, I'm sure you'll make them feel wanted or something.

However, I don't want to be negative about all the males here--some guys really are nice. I've made a lot of good friends here who are male. If they're nice, they will just say "Buenas noches." I don't mind that, I'll smile and say it back politely and continue on my way.

Since I've graduated from high school and am now qualified as a semi-intelligent human being, I've made my own rule to look comparatively like crap on my walks. Meaning t-shirts and old gym shorts (which are more comfortable anyways). Often glasses are worn to help complete the crappy walking outfit, and thus I pull on shoes and march out the gate with dignity and supreme satisfaction.

I remember complaining about this problem a few weeks ago to Preston and my friend Ana Marcela when we were all in the car together. Ana Marcela had asked if our neighborhood was dangerous (it's the same level of dangerous as your suburban American neighborhood... I'm not sure why she asked since she lives about two minutes from us) and Preston and I had immediately launched into the chorus of "Oh yeah, it's SO dangerous! We always have to stay inside our house because people get raped and murdered here everyday... no, not really," saying this last part hastily when Ana Marcela's face turned a strange color.

Side note: We aren't trying to minimize those problems because every country has those kinds of horrible places, but people just get way too caught up in assuming that the area we live in is a terrible, dangerous community when really any robber that tried to break into the Kolbs' house would be screwed over, seeing as we have hardly anything of value to take anyways. Those people down the street have a nice TV in their living room, go rob them instead and could you please lock the door on your way out, Mr. Robber?

Anyways. I told Ana Marcela that the only problem I'd experienced was with people staring and whistling and making kissy noises, even if I wasn't even dressed all that nice. Her response? "Yeah, BECAUSE YOU'RE HOT!"

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. "Well, I always walk at night, so how could anyone see my face??"

Silence. Something began to dawn on me. "Wait..."

Preston finished that thought for me. "What makes you think they're looking at your face?"

Ah, I can be so naive sometimes.

So that made me even more determined to take my walks while not dressed nice. But here's the frustrating thing... yesterday I walked with a t-shirt and jeans, and I still got whistled at. And this afternoon I had on gym shorts for a walk just outside the neighborhood, and it was even worse! Several guys said "Adios" simultaneously as I passed. Then a man who was probably in his 30's was doing smoochy lips at me and I didn't even attempt to hide the dirty look crossing over my face. I'm not even going to describe the rest of my walk except to say I'd never been happier to step onto the Kolbs' porch and lock the gate behind me.

While I'm not trying to alarm anyone (although I'm sure I will regardless), I would just like to point this out as being one of my biggest problems, but God has taken care of me from harm and I know He will continue to do so, and no, parents, I swear I won't do anything stupid on purpose. I'm thinking of America a little more fondly now, since there's a majority of people who won't actually say anything about the fact that they're undressing you with their eyes.

So this post is dedicated to Jessica Knox and any other girls I know who might want to visit Nicaragua from now on. Don't be a hoochie, and while most likely nothing will happen to you, you WILL be uncomfortable.

As for Mattias and any other guys who will visit... well, I sure hope that this problem doesn't pertain to you.

"Hide yo kids, hide yo wife..."

No comments:

Post a Comment