"i need to eat something i can feel bad about in the morning."
that would have been sufficient.
but then he adds, "like a $10 hooker from Jersey."
i take a deep breath. "sounds fun. enjoy."
"i will do my best...but she better not charge for the crying afterwards."
really?
now, how could he have known that i had just stepped off BART where i had been reading Revolutionary Women, specifically reading about Phoolan Devi? he couldn't have, and i had no clue who she was until just today.
According to the book (edited by Queen of the Neighbourhood, "an all-woman collective of writers, researchers, editors and graphic designers originally hailing from Aotearoa/New Zealand"), she a woman born in India who, because of the caste to which her family belonged, "was married at thirteen to a middle-aged man who beat and raped her." later, Phoolan was thrown into jail over a family dispute where she was "repeatedly gang-raped by policemen." at age sixteen, she was kidnapped by bandits and used as a sex slave by the gang's leader. when the leader was assassinated, the assassins took her into custody in their village, where she was, again, "gang-raped for 3 weeks until she managed to escape."
Phoolan is quoted as saying:
"You call it rape in your fancy language. Do you have any idea what it's like to live in a village in India? What you call rape, that kind of thing happens to poor women in the villages every day. It is assumed that the daughters of the poor are for the use of the rich."
whoa.
so what does a joke about a brutally-used hooker from the East Coast and the story of Phoolan Devi have in common?
well, for starters, neither of them is funny.
if i had a dime for every hooker joke made by a guy, i'd make a huge donation to victims of sexual assault and abuse. i called this particular guy on his shit, and his answer was, "derogatory is fun." from what i gathered, if he stuck to more positive comments, he would be "one-sided and boring." um, what?
can you imagine being a 13-year-old girl living, dirt poor, without a family, no access to medical attention, being forced to have perform sex acts with men twice, three times your age--or suffer torture, electrocution, beating, even death? which would be worse?
can you imagine being a poor woman living in the most dangerous part of an American city, feeling like your only option for survival is to charge men money for doing what they want with your body, for hanging around as a drug dealer's mistress because you know you'll only be raped by him and maybe a few of his buddies, at worst?
how is this funny, amusing, cool or freakin' sweet?
it's not. the issue of prostitution--and more importantly, the underlying issues in our society that make it acceptable to make casual remarks about the sexual assault/abuse and objectification of women--is part of the big picture, a picture that reveals a world falling apart. it makes me sick and it makes me sad.
mostly, it makes me want to kick some ass. i've had rage well up in me intense enough to make me put my fist through a wall. if i was poor, living in India, i would probably become a vigilante like Phoolan, who was dubbed "Queen of the Bandits" after she started up her own gang and "went around exacting justice on all the men who had abused her." but because i am white and middle-class, i was taught to quietly swallow my rage...then throw it up, wipe off my lips, apply lipgloss and smile on my way to the mall. i was well-behaved for a very long time.
it's not that i truly wish to turn violent in response to the abuse that i and millions of other women have and do endure, but i can't remain silent and act like it doesn't affect me. if you're going to make a joke to me about hooker, you're going to get en earful. and i certainly won't hook you up with any of my hot friends.
and, just to clarify: i'm not opposed to humor. laughter is fantastic--it creates endorphins and it allows Margaret Cho to make a living. i know people turn to humor to diffuse heavy issues, to disassociate from the emotional pain they can incite. but there needs to be a balance and an awareness: if there is no empathy, we can all just ignore and avoid the complicated suffering that is the human burden.
it might seem like a small and insignificant gesture, but words are powerful. thoughts even more so. i know this guy isn't a bad person, but he seems to feel like making hooker jokes will make him more acceptable to society--and he's right, because society is largely patriarchal and most people are ignorant. if we can start small--speaking from the heart and choosing words that are compassionate--we can make big change to the big picture.
that would have been sufficient.
but then he adds, "like a $10 hooker from Jersey."
i take a deep breath. "sounds fun. enjoy."
"i will do my best...but she better not charge for the crying afterwards."
really?
now, how could he have known that i had just stepped off BART where i had been reading Revolutionary Women, specifically reading about Phoolan Devi? he couldn't have, and i had no clue who she was until just today.
According to the book (edited by Queen of the Neighbourhood, "an all-woman collective of writers, researchers, editors and graphic designers originally hailing from Aotearoa/New Zealand"), she a woman born in India who, because of the caste to which her family belonged, "was married at thirteen to a middle-aged man who beat and raped her." later, Phoolan was thrown into jail over a family dispute where she was "repeatedly gang-raped by policemen." at age sixteen, she was kidnapped by bandits and used as a sex slave by the gang's leader. when the leader was assassinated, the assassins took her into custody in their village, where she was, again, "gang-raped for 3 weeks until she managed to escape."
Phoolan is quoted as saying:
"You call it rape in your fancy language. Do you have any idea what it's like to live in a village in India? What you call rape, that kind of thing happens to poor women in the villages every day. It is assumed that the daughters of the poor are for the use of the rich."
whoa.
so what does a joke about a brutally-used hooker from the East Coast and the story of Phoolan Devi have in common?
well, for starters, neither of them is funny.
if i had a dime for every hooker joke made by a guy, i'd make a huge donation to victims of sexual assault and abuse. i called this particular guy on his shit, and his answer was, "derogatory is fun." from what i gathered, if he stuck to more positive comments, he would be "one-sided and boring." um, what?
can you imagine being a 13-year-old girl living, dirt poor, without a family, no access to medical attention, being forced to have perform sex acts with men twice, three times your age--or suffer torture, electrocution, beating, even death? which would be worse?
can you imagine being a poor woman living in the most dangerous part of an American city, feeling like your only option for survival is to charge men money for doing what they want with your body, for hanging around as a drug dealer's mistress because you know you'll only be raped by him and maybe a few of his buddies, at worst?
how is this funny, amusing, cool or freakin' sweet?
it's not. the issue of prostitution--and more importantly, the underlying issues in our society that make it acceptable to make casual remarks about the sexual assault/abuse and objectification of women--is part of the big picture, a picture that reveals a world falling apart. it makes me sick and it makes me sad.
mostly, it makes me want to kick some ass. i've had rage well up in me intense enough to make me put my fist through a wall. if i was poor, living in India, i would probably become a vigilante like Phoolan, who was dubbed "Queen of the Bandits" after she started up her own gang and "went around exacting justice on all the men who had abused her." but because i am white and middle-class, i was taught to quietly swallow my rage...then throw it up, wipe off my lips, apply lipgloss and smile on my way to the mall. i was well-behaved for a very long time.
it's not that i truly wish to turn violent in response to the abuse that i and millions of other women have and do endure, but i can't remain silent and act like it doesn't affect me. if you're going to make a joke to me about hooker, you're going to get en earful. and i certainly won't hook you up with any of my hot friends.
and, just to clarify: i'm not opposed to humor. laughter is fantastic--it creates endorphins and it allows Margaret Cho to make a living. i know people turn to humor to diffuse heavy issues, to disassociate from the emotional pain they can incite. but there needs to be a balance and an awareness: if there is no empathy, we can all just ignore and avoid the complicated suffering that is the human burden.
it might seem like a small and insignificant gesture, but words are powerful. thoughts even more so. i know this guy isn't a bad person, but he seems to feel like making hooker jokes will make him more acceptable to society--and he's right, because society is largely patriarchal and most people are ignorant. if we can start small--speaking from the heart and choosing words that are compassionate--we can make big change to the big picture.
