RE: 10 Hours of Walking in NYC as a Female

"Each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women."

Dr. Maya Angelou

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First and foremost, I would like to reinstate the definition of the word 'harassment', because I feel that its definition is lost when applied to this occurrence. Google defines 'harassment' as the following:

Please note that harassment can come in the form of 'annoyance', 'irritation', 'bother', 'force', 'hassle', and 'pestering', all of which I felt upon watching the video '10 Hours of Walking in NYC as a Woman'. Harassment is defined by Hollaback!, the institution responsible for acting against street harassment, as 'culturally accepted as 'the price you pay' for being a woman'. Their mission statement, if you please, comes in the form of a video and is a rather interesting watch. Upon watching it, one gains an insight that is not as shallow as the insight gained by watching 10 Hours of Walking in NYC as a Female alone:

Secondly, I would like to remind people that despite my being female, I am a human being who should be treated equally even if I have an extra amount of fat on my chest that unfortunately constitutes as some sort of sexual symbol all thanks to the media, when really it aids in the natural course of breastfeeding if I were to become a mother or aids in my restlessness at nighttime due to the fact that it becomes difficult to sleep on two extra body pillows, per se. Please note, also, my vast hips as they are the way that they are due to my experiencing of puberty, wherein it is totally normal for the hips to expand to give the womb a copious amount of room for the comfort of a potential child, or for the harbouring of blood clots which seep out of my genitalia monthly, also part of a natural state of my femininity. My gluteus maximus, might I add, is the way that it is, quite large, not for sexual attraction, rather because I sit on it all day because I am lazy, an aspect of my free choice. My free choice will also allow me to improve, in my eyes, its shape, if I permit myself, for myself, and not for another being. Discussion of exercising aside, the size of a gluteus maximus may be hereditary and not due to laziness in some cultures due to the variation of DNA, another fact that cannot be addressed when it comes to social issues regarding women.

Good. Now that I have physically distinguished myself and my body parts as a natural member of the female species, I feel that I can go on to explain my discomfort in the opinions of most male species, in terms of other areas disregarding the natural female physical state, which by owning, should not under any circumstance, albeit the varied measurements of such parts, make the owner the victim of derogatory terms used to offend certain people with a frequent sex drive. The reason as to why I make this distinction comes in later in this post.

The video below depicts actress Shoshana B Roberts walking through the streets of Manhattan over the course of ten hours whilst wearing a pair of jeans, and a crewneck t-shirt. She was to perform this entire walk silently, as part of this social experiment, choosing not to answer all the catcalls she would receive on her journey, so as to possibly entice additional comments which would further the annoyance that is feeling liable to talk to strangers if they find you visually appealing. I have decided to place below the video a transcript of all that was said in it.

"How you doing today?"
"Smile."

"I guess not good."

"Smile!"

"What's up beautiful, have a good day."

"Hey, what's up girl? How you doing?"

"Somebody's acknowledging you for being beautiful! You should say thank you more! ... For real?"

"God bless you, mami" (proceeds to examine her gluteus maximus) "Damn!"

"Hey baby."

"Hey, beautiful!"

"How are you this morning?"

"Have a nice evening."

"Nice!"

"Damn. Damn!"

"Hi beautiful. God bless." (also proceeds to examine her gluteus maximus, and upon observation, adds:) "Sexy American Eagle!"

"Hello, good morning. God bless you. Have a good day, alright?" (this man then proceeds to walk beside her for five minutes)

"Damn!"

"How you doing?"

"How you doing, good?"

"Sweetie?"

"Hey, look it there! I just saw a thousand dollars."

"Damn, girl!"

"You don't wanna talk? Because I'm ugly? Huh? We can't be friends, nothing? You don't speak? If I give you my number, would you talk to me? Huh? Too ugly for you?"

"What's up, Miss?"

"How you doing?"

"Have a nice evening, darling."

Indeed, Roberts did receive an array of compliments, but the compliments are beside the point. Please note again, as stated above, that harassment can come in the form of 'annoyance', 'irritation', 'bother', 'force', 'hassle', and 'pestering'. Compliments can pester, bother, hassle and annoy. I personally am affected by compliments in this manner, particularly compliments from a stranger. Yes, you can wish a stranger a good day, a good afternoon and a good night as you cross paths, but you cannot expect to have the person you compliment owe you a response, because that person, apart from not needing to abide by your expectation, needs to have their personal life experiences taken into account, especially considering the fragility of a female figure in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Such is the case with this actress. Roberts was a victim of sexual harassment, saying that in the duration of the filming of this video, she "felt like crying", and due to her "occurrences in [her] past of sexual assault, [she] wasn't even aware necessarily of all the times people were saying things to [her]. [She] was going over in [her] head and reliving [her] memories while [she] was walking. [She] wanted to break down in tears". Amidst the array of compliments, some catcalls which involved the examining of her gluteus maximus were uncalled for. Most people are appalled at this video, taking into account only the compliments and not things like "you should say thank you more", which leads to my interest in the quote, "verbal harassment is in the ear of the beholder", said by Dana Perino, on The Five, Fox News, while discussing the issue at hand. And that is indeed true. While to most, this was a video depicting the absurdity of what is considered harassment, to others it is the very epitome of harassment.

Also on the board of people on Fox News' The Five, Greg Gutfeld makes an interesting point that highlights the ease of slipping through dirty remarks amongst compliments in public, wherein he says that "catcalls are possible [in this case] because the situation is fluid, so men don't have to deal with the rejection because the woman keeps walking". I align with that comment because it is proven as most of the men shown saying the dirtier remarks, as per the man who compliments the back of Robert's jeans, only said so after she was a metre or so past them. Gutfeld goes on to say that "nobody catcalls in an elevator, where there's awkwardness and the woman can tell you to shut up." With this said, Gutfeld hints that men have a sense of shame when it comes to saying things in the vicinity of a woman in a secluded space, rather than in the public domain. If they meant it in an utterly complimentary manner, though, would they still feel ashamed? I recall an incident where I complimented a woman's shirt on my university campus because it had the same image of a wolf as my backpack, and I still remember the look of horror on her face which melted into a look of relief as she realised I complimented her. Most people, me being one of them, feel a state of discomfort walking in a public space, let alone having strangers talk to them, even if the stranger may mean good. Gutfeld also states that, "there were, probably, no doubt, jerks in there. But you can't throw all men into a pile", which brings me to my next statement: indeed, not all men should be generalised to suit the intents of those with bad intentions. This post is by no means aimed at generalising, for it did acknowledge the obvious complimentary words thrown towards Roberts in the above video. 

"She got 100 catcalls, let me add 101. Damn, baby, you're a piece of woman. 

[...] She's a good-looking babe, wouldn't you say something?" 

- Bob Beckel, Fox News. 

It is in what is said by this man, on the same show as Gutfeld and Perino, that truly disgusts me. I am disgusted because what he says is what I call a shifty compliment, a compliment that appears innocent, but really has sexual undertones. The issue(s) here, is that Beckel is engendering Roberts by defining her femininity through her appearance, by stating that appearance is a determinant in whether or not a victim is catcalled, and by missing the point completely, by aiming to prematurely stall her intentions so as to indicate and prioritise his. 

Why should women feel as though what they are wearing determines varied sorts of public reaction? Why should there be public reactions at all? Why cannot women wear what they please so as to please themselves and not please or displease others? My overall concern with this video and its results is that it has shown that the public domain has agency over what a woman wears and how a woman acts if a woman does not comply to the unwritten laws where compliments or catcalls should be answered. Harassment happens physically and verbally. While actions are taken to decrease physical harassment, who is to say that actions to decrease verbal harassment should be stopped?

And irony exists in the comments section beneath the video 10 Hours of Walking in NYC as a Female, where verbal harassment is happening, where death threats and profanity are aimed at Roberts for her willingness and bravery in stepping up to make a change in our society: 

We cannot expect to live in a harmonious society if we dispel the realities of females and their struggles.

I would like to finish this post by sharing words that Roberts said herself, as per her reasoning behind agreeing to be filmed in 10 Hours of Walking in NYC as a Female:

Police Brutality

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If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face — forever.'

George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four. 

Back when I was studying in high school, in the holidays before my final year, I was asked to read and analyse George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four in order to be prepared for analyses of it in class when school began again. 

I looked at the cover - it was bleak, dark, and hard a chair on it. It made me feel weary and claustrophobic just looking at the cover, and I felt no desire to open the book and acknowledge its content. However, having forced myself to, I managed to get through it - barely. I simply could not connect to its storyline. I was politically passive, and had no opinions of my own because in my naivety, I was not affected by any of the problems that arose in the storyline. Thus, I completely disregarded it from my state of mind.

Until I graduated. When I graduated, the portals to the real world opened to me and I was exposed to the disgusting side of humanity, the side where authoritative figures have agency over other humans who sit below the government, governed by laws made up by other humans who sought to dictate the actions of others. I began to form my own opinions. I saw cases of maltreatment and began to feel a sense of angst that has, to this day, been burning bright. 

And now I realise that Orwell was right. All of the statements he implied in his novel are unfolding right before our very eyes. It is we who are dehumanising ourselves; most particularly, it is the figures of authority who are dehumanising others. The image below shows an officer, Edward Krawetz, kicking a handcuffed drunk woman in the head because she did not wish for him to penetrate her purse with his authoritative fingers. She attempted to protest by lifting her leg, failing to kick him, and so he retaliated by kicking her head so hard it smacked onto the kerb.

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Police brutality is rising. It is rising now more than ever, and it has evolved into something racially prejudiced. Numerous African-American males have been killed this year by members of the police force: Eric Garner, a sufferer of asthma was held in a chokehold position until he died because he intervened on a fight and stopped it, however allegedly he was selling untaxed cigarettes - whilst on the floor in the chokehold position, he repeatedly gasped, "I can't breathe! I can't breath!" and was ignored; John Crawford, shot dead inside a Walmart store whilst waving a BB gun in the air; Ezell Ford, lying on the ground, complying to officers' directions when they shot him in the back - dead; Dante Parker, tased to death because of being a suspect; Michael Brown, Sean Bell, Oscar Grant, Frank Jude, Johnathan Ferrell, Kathryn Johnston, Kendrec McDade, Timothy Standsbury Jr., Kenneth Chamberlain, Timothy Thomas, Robert Davis, Rodney King, Amadou Diallo, and many more.

'White officers kill a Black person, on average, 96 times per year.' I now regret having hated Nineteen Eighty-Four, for if I had not, I think I would have been in the law field, giving a voice to the voiceless, giving a chance to those who are without. 

References:

http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2014/08/3-unarmed-black-african-american-men-killed-police

http://northdallasgazette.com/2014/08/20/2-black-men-per-week-are-killed-by-a-cop-in-america/

Successful Partnering

I always wonder how I will be like in the event of finding my true spouse. I wonder whether I will be able to act in the insane ways that I currently do without feeling a sense of shame.

But most of all, I wonder whether I will have both the courage to be able to release flatulence in their presence or the ability to withstand the releasing of their flatulence without ending up with an upset stomach and a foul mood.

"This is about those less than ideal moments, 

the times when we're simply human; 

a loosened booger, trap-door opening and closing 

with every breath, 

[...] conversations on a toilet? 

If you can't love me in this awkward speech, 

just live in this filthy, stinky moment, 

what are you gonna do when it really gets bad? 

Will you still love me?"

The performance poet, Jesse Parent, always tends to nicely and expressively and satirically lay down my thoughts and make them appear as foreign to me as a friendly stray cat is to an unfriendly stray dog. In the above quote, taken from the above video, he states in a flawless manner the importance of being with someone who accepts you as a fellow human being, as a person prone to sickness and a person with a working digestive system that will most likely interrupt conversations.

I suppose, then, the day that I fart by accident and another person farts back to relieve me from my public humiliation will be the day that I ask them to be my spouse. For if I fart and they fart then the ice that exists within the broken ice that cannot be broken, will break, and from it, a successful, smelly, shameless relationship will spawn. 

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Extremities

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Within the same hour, on the same television but on different channels, I watched on one channel a mindless Beverly Hills actress who was selling one of her eighty cars to buy an island for her husband, and on the other, a mourning pack of Muslim people protesting after the main family having received the body of their eldest son, alongside his head.

What frightens me is that most of us believe the world is mildly equal, and those who disagree do so either because they see that marriage equality is not considered pertinent nor legal in most countries and states, or because they are aware that Africa is poverty stricken. Yes, these two facts are true, but so is the fact that there exists amidst our technological lives places where terrors of war and religion are claiming the lives of many, and unfortunately for me, I know of this and I see this daily.

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My parents see it fit to have a Lebanese satellite box rather than Foxtel or Netflix because they believe their cultural roots to be of higher importance than the seven o'clock news - even if they flick back to Australian television every now and again to eavesdrop on their country of residence.

The world is interconnected with the help of technological advances, yet war and its terrors are slicing through this connectivity. Sometimes I consider moving out of my parents' home just because of their viewing choices, and at other times I am thankful for seeing these atrocities because they remind me that the world is not a beautiful place, and that beauty is simply an illusion.

Profanities

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As of late, I have been attempting to reduce my level of profanity. In fact, I have been able to go days without swearing once. The other day, I walked past a woman who reminded me why this was a good decision on my part.

This lady, somewhere in her fifties, is the type of person who speaks on the phone and wants all onlookers to hear her entire conversation. Her conversation, though, was based on something that is not meant to be paired by accompanying words of profanity.

From what I gathered, thanks to her loud, beaming voice, her six year old son has a rotten tooth.
"F**king idiot can't brush his f**king teeth!" she screamed, looking around at me to make sure that I heard what she said. "F**king hell!" She proceeded to carry on in this manner to her friend on the other line, who, I presume, was enjoying herself. Fancy enjoying herself if the call had been about her, lead by her mother and her mother's friend?

My blood boiled. I walked faster in the opposite direction towards my class so as to not be tempted by her thunderous expletives to turn around and smack her nose into her face. I was so proud of myself for not executing what my fight and not flight instinct was telling me to execute. 

What is stopping that mother, though, from teaching her son how to brush his teeth properly so as to save himself the pain of rotten teeth? What benefit does she obtain in parading around university grounds screaming ill-natured things about her son, who is going through what most children go through? 

Some mothers make me reconsider my stance on abortions.

Miss and Mister Lebanon

I think that the more I am around my relatives, the more observant I am. And as of late, I have come to the realisation that my family is surrounded by gender constraints from television viewings of their choice.

There goes by not an evening whilst seated at my grandmother's house along with my family where I do not come across a negative comment aimed at the restricting of individuality. These comments are sprayed from the mouths of my parents, my grandparents and my aunt and uncle. Their sprayings fly at the television screen and bounce off, flying to the faces of my younger cousins who are, despite their mature ages, still rather impressionable. 

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It is almost ritualistic. It happens the most when Mister or Miss Lebanon is being televised. My father begins the ritual, spitting into the air, literally. He spits in order to show his appreciation of the physical appearance of the females presented on the screen. My mother, against all relationship odds, spits along with him, and as far as I can note neither seem concerned at their actions. Neither seem concerned that they are constraining their own daughters and nieces to conform to the looks being presented. They do not seem concerned about how horrible that is.

It is worse when Mister Lebanon is being televised. I still remember when it happened - my father sent my mother a text message informing her to hurry home with me and my sister because Mister Lebanon was on. So we did. Me, involuntarily. He may not realise it, but in his viewing of this show he is constraining himself as a male as well as my sister and I as females. 

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It was alarming to see packs of men with no bodily hair to be found on them. It was alarming to see their beaming white smiles, their tan, toned bodies gleaming from the spreading of oil, and their falsified answers that underpin the necessity of winning. Are you an exemplary figure if you are televised, toned, fit, and make no verbal sense? Or are you an exemplary figure if you perform good deeds without the need for them to be broadcasted all over the world? The status quo prefers the former.

My family is not aware of the unsightly visual and verbal messages that they are confronted with when they press the 'on' button on the television remote. This frustrates me because I am, and it worries me because they are not. Why cannot humans thrive in the comfort of their own natural skin without the application of status quo pigeonholing?

The Dirty Art Sink

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The other day at university, in my other art class which is based on the craft of painting, I was appalled. 

My art teacher does not like to roster her students to clean up after themselves, I suppose because she expects us to be able to apply our common sense after the commencing of our art classes and be able to clean our own messes - apparently, this is not the case.

Ten minutes before twelve in the afternoon on every Thursday, there remains always me and either one or two students, the others having rushed off to catch the rest of the day. Their gigantic easels remain where they were last left when they are meant to be folded up again and placed in their storage place, and the sink as dirty as ever.

For the past three months, there has been a rancid smell that has been coming from the sink area. Nobody dared to investigate it, rather they would wash their hands and belongings and walk off before anyone noticed their noticing of the source of smell. I decided to investigate. Two washcloths, abandoned at the end of the sink for maybe a year were the source to this smell. I ordered the teacher to retrieve some sort of bag, she brought me the rubbish bin and I picked these cloths up and as I moved them to the bin the smell followed. How I managed not to bring up my breakfast, I know not.

I was infuriated. I told my teacher about some of the horrible artrooms I have noticed whilst on placement, and I told her that people should feel blessed that we have some sort of fresh water supply to wash our belongings with. She responded, "yes, that is true, however I think it because of the area the university is in that the sink stays this way". 

You cannot blame the locality of a university for the laziness of people. I have grown up in the proximity of my university, and I have grown up to know that leaving a wet object submerged in water and chemicals for a year will result in a rancid smell. 

It amazes me how my peers know that they are scheduled to be at university at certain times, yet they disobey the timetabling and leave several minutes beforehand. What is the rush? While you rush off, mould takes its time making itself comfortable in a place that has been given to you to maintain hygiene. 

Oh, the irony.