Tuesday, January 21, 2014

I'm not deaf


-Street
her-ass-meant- 


It starts with random car horns and then honks, followed by cars pulling over and a somewhat terrifying fixated set of two if not four (if not more) eyes on me, an aggressive invitation to talk is to what comes next, and once its rejected by ignoring it ever happened, comes the showering of words/sounds that are a violation for me yet an equivalent to what compliments are for these men. Street Harassment you're up next!

I'm talking on my phone, completely oblivious to what's happening around me; considering the fact that it was almost a 100 degree and I always tend to be very cranky when it comes to hot climates (the irony that I live in one of the more heated climates is actually funnier now because its just sad) anyway talking to the person on the other side who could've been the devil in disguise for all I know (YES IT WAS VERY HOT) I walked a short distance, trying to locate the car to go back home, when I stopped for a minute and realised that a parade of eyes had followed me to where I now called a stop, as soon as these eyes became aware of my awareness of them, cue the flirtations techniques taken directly from the 'How the fuck to not ever get a woman handbook' Half of what was literally screamed at me I didn't even comprehend let alone respond to (which is something I would never do) the other half was too vulgar for my own innocent ears (innocent-ish?) and my frustrated mood to be disgusted with, so I basically did what I would normally do in the situation; walk away and pretend like nothing happened.

But something did happen... because this always happens.

Street harassment is now considered a norm; for me to walk outside my house to run an errand or simply indulge in the pleasure a solitary walk does for me, I expect that as soon as I step outside of my house I would hear a word or two from these lowlifes I've grown to loathe more and more each day. The very idea of this becoming a "norm" and for me to "expect" these things to happen because "that's just the way it goes around here" is not okay. See, I could've said something in the situation I've described before, but I didn't only out of fear of encouraging their comments even further, and I have been in a similar situation before which I'll get to in a minute, but let me just say that it was 2 o'clock in the afternoon, it wasn't midnight, I wasn't alone, the sun (THE FREAKING SUN) was shinning as bright and giving all its light to this beautiful life, and there were people (hint: other women) walking on the road, when these comments were made, every other woman walking or standing close by during that moment, including myself; turned a deaf ear, because that's just the norms around here.

I was walking (my life contains a few anecdotes that starts with those) down the street on my way back home from somewhere, when lo and behold I was facing a religious extremist right in front of me, I wasn't wearing any hijab and I won't even get to why not but let me just state that I strongly believe that once its on its never coming off, anyway so this man, who does not know me at all, first time encountering his pleasant demeanour and his mine, belligerently demands me to cover up; literally screaming at my face to cover my hair, now I'm sure (sure-ish?) that if I had met this man in any other different circumstance I would've totally walked away from him (because my mommy taught me not to talk to strangers) but he was screaming and I was there receiving his bitter end; explicitly asking me about my religion and how I'm doing it wrong, again I'm sure that if I had met this man in a different circumstance I would've most definitely walked away because my religion and relationship with God is a private matter between Him and I, but guess what? I wasn't in a different circumstance, I was there when all of these words were punching me in the face, and I refused to walk away like nothing happened so my idea of challenging this narrow-minded man was to tell him to cover up his head first before talking to me, which shut him up in confusion and gave me time to walk away feeling like a proper superwoman for not allowing him or his words to pull me low enough to talk back at him.

That's just it, isn't it? Its not so much what they're saying and that they want you to hear it because guess what ladies, these assholes are not even talking to you, they are talking at you, this is made perfectly clear once you ignore their "invitations" they get frustrated and start yapping about like idiots with their pointless purposeless words. I feel so annoyed when street harassment is made welcomed by ignorant men who won't even stand up because naturally a woman walking down the street on her own, is an invitation in itself; if she didn't want to hear anything she would have brought her brother or cousin or whomever as long as it rhymes with male, with her, I mean only then would she be respected and her personal space is as well, because that respect isn't so much directed at her but the male accompanying her and that same respect is only generated from fear. I mean bloody hell, I could walk to the store and bring my little nephew with me and he would be my protector if anything were to occur; do you see where I'm going with this? doesn't even matter how grown I am, as long as I'm female I have no fucking personal space once I leave my house! SCREW THIS SHIT.

Women are objectified and that's nothing new, I don't even want to get into that (I think my feminist sisters would agree LOL) what bothers me is the very idea of street harassment; the linkage of these two words together, men (actually lets just call them lowlifes, cause a real man would never submit to such behaviour... and I don't even know what this real man is) so anyway, lowlifes think that they can do as they please, say as they please and nothing would happen because worst case scenario: the woman would walk away, best case scenario: the woman would strip naked; she's so flattered her ovaries couldn't handle it. I don't remember the time when street harassment had become this thing it is that I am now so frustrated with that I decided to write about it. Harassment is a violation in its own right, these lowlifes are aware that the woman walking in front of them doesn't want to be bothered with their bullshit, but they still insist on spreading their bullshit, because although the conscious mind is attracted to this woman and wants to grab her attention, the unconscious mind on the other hand is flexing the muscles while jerking off, pre-ejaculating all over the lost chivalry of mankind.

I was followed home one day by this man who wouldn't take NO for an answer, you can guess how the story started, I was walking (of course) back home and completely lost in my own inner dialogue and conversation, when all of a sudden I see a car pulling to the side of the road and a man walked out and the first thing he thought was clever enough to say to me was 'Why do you look so sad?' Oh, I wanted to tell him all about how I was so heartbroken over Mufasa's death and what a great father he would've been to Simba, and the fact that I was still humming the tune of the theme song and it made me feel like anything is possible, or how I wished that birth control was something people believed in more so the earth wouldn't overpopulate and reach its estimated 9 billion and how I find it scary that for every four deaths there are two lives introduced to this world yet I still found it magical... magically scary, or how I wished I could've bought that Game Of Thrones book instead of that McDonalds chicken burger I went for instead because I was so hungry and like Pooh Bear always says there's rumbly in my tumbly! or how I thought it fascinating that even a six months old baby knows how to lie; even though he or she doesn't actively make the choice to tell a lie instead of a truth but I still thought it fascinating that fake crying is something babies have got over me or why all of a sudden I was feeling so maternal... YET instead I retreated with a simple 'No, bye' and walked away even though he was still insisting, talking and asking questions and all I could think of was: great now I'll always associate Mufasa's death with this idiot in his green beetle-looking car.

I've lost track of my thoughts for a bit there; internal dialogues are weird.

Street harassment is a violation of women's rights, not only that but its a violation of decent human interactions, the way women ignore all of that isn't helping and then again responding to it wouldn't help either, so what is a woman to do, other than walk away and pretend like nothing had happened theres really not much I can do... Except maybe turn to the internet and write a post in order to rant my way out of frustration.

 hooray do I say? 

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Places

Her eyes told stories; her eyes told the different kind of stories; the ones that are filled and soaked in magic, with innocence wrapped all around it and yet beneath it all lies the pain and tragic. Her eyes belonged somewhere else; solely and distant. Her eyes were of one that craved a deeper understanding; were of one that craved a comfort outside of hiding.

I can still remember the first time I locked eyes on her, waited for her to see me the way I saw her, to offer me a chance to get to know her, her conversations brought me to her; brought me sober, I felt a heavy craving for her, to fill every moment of the night with every-whole of her, to mix myself with her, to kiss her and learn how my tongue fits her, to kiss her until my soul is brave enough to reach hers, to breathe the holly earth into her, to taste the rain in her, to learn the smile that made her eyes shine in the way they do, to learn about the places she always escaped to.

She was my desire; anew, she was a destiny; destined for me to take the next step towards the much bigger and greater me. I can't fathom the spell she has on me; even now as I write this letter, part of the many letters I wrote of her; hoping they might lead me to her, or bring her back to the place in the journey; that was her stop and start for me.

My mind looks for her; in peaceful places where its free to indulge in the thought of her; her face even though the features might have changed, the mental picture I have of her that night is forever engraved to my brain, her lips that awaken the sun everyday, her words gloved in whispers, her touch... after all, it only takes one soul to touch another; in parts unknown to discover more and more.

She wouldn't know all the different ways she made me feel, I can still breathe her scent in places and find myself tracing it to nowhere; alone. 

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Green



***

The year of smiling and eye-contact. The year of kindness demonstrated through acts. The year of bringing family together and realising that I like that. The year of transforming ordinary into art. The year of digging more. The year of crying more. The year of shutting down. The year of being around. The year of moving on. The year of erasing all whys. The year of writing stories with no explanations. The year of controlling any chocolate cravings. The year of understanding myself better. The year of loving myself better. The year of pictures and collages. The year of self reliance.The year of looking forward to whats to come. The year of romance and love. The year of learning. The year of failing. The year of learning again. The year of confusion and untwisting. The year of bad rhymes and pretend rap. The year of solitude found in hip-hop. The year of questioning. The year of discovering. The year of writing about anything. The year of music. The year of more books and movies. The year of painfully unfunny. The year of telling the jokes anyway. The year of rediscovering passion and fire. The year of letting go. The year of taking it slow. The year of laughter. The year of forgiveness. The year of recognising worthiness. The year of all good things to be. The year of embracing the weirdo in me. The year of more bad rhyming. The year of the same yet different. The year of bliss from within. The year of appreciating the little things. The year of giving. The year of all things good to be will come to be eventually. The year of happy, thank you and more please; for this year to be.