Pretty Ass White Girl

I've been called a lot of things by men (and a few women) in this city, in the name of being hit on: beautiful, sexy, good looking, fine, lovely. I've been asked if I'm married and if I'd like to be, if I will give out my phone number or take someone else's, if I'd like to "have my world rocked" or "hook up" or any number of other things. I've been referred to as vanilla and snow. And I've been looked at in ways that say more than all of it combined.

At first, encounters like these both frightened and flattered me. As much as their brazenness scared me, I also somehow received a self-esteem boost from these men. However, after a while, I started to become used to it. It just became regular, routine, old hat, nothing to write home about. I stopped noticing. 

Until recently, that is.

Last Thursday, as I walked down the street, a man looked at me (for much too long, I might add), and then said to his friend, "Mmm-hmm, that is a pretty ass white girl."

On the outside,  I laughed and shook my head, but inside, my blood boiled. Something about this encounter incensed me. What exactly was it about this particular experience that bothered me so much more than all the others? I was supposed to be used to this sort of thing by now, right? Just shake it off as part of the culture.

And then it hit me. I wasn't mad because he commented on my physical appearance. I was mad because the way in which he did it indicated that he viewed me as an object, not a person. This guy looked at me like he owned me, like it was his prerogative how long and in what way he looked at me. And then, while still looking at me, he made a judgment about me to someone else. He didn't even have the decency to speak directly to me because I didn't matter to him. It felt like when I go window shopping with my girlfriends, except in this situation, I was the dress on display.

I want to be appreciated for my intelligence, sense of humor, and passion, of course. But don't get me wrong - I like being pretty and wearing cute outfits. And I shave, wax, and wear mascara, and I fully intend to continue doing so. 

But I am not an object on display.

Men, I implore you to consider the way you view women. Most of you reading my blog are probably not the kind of guys who would ever dream of hitting on a random woman. But what's in your mind? When you see a beautiful or (in your opinion) a not so beautiful woman, do you look at her like it is your right to do so? Do you think about the way her jeans fit her butt or her dress hugs her hips? Or do you remember that she is a person with a mind and a heart? a woman who wants to be respected not ogled?

Think it about it. Inspect your mind. And be part of changing the culture.