'Hey, Shorty...'
So, here's a question to ask yourself (feel free to make that "on the one hand, on the other hand" gesture when you do): what's more important? ...
The war in Iraq, or being yelled at on the street?
Immigration reform, or being yelled at on the street?
The fight against international terrorism, or being yelled at on the street?
You get the picture. Nobody's ever going to rank being yelled at, cat-called, cursed at, targeted by sexual remarks ... even groped ... on the list of the world's most important issues. But does it have to be to get our attention?
That's why I was so impressed with a group of young women who made a short film called Hey Shorty, and why I wanted to have them on the program.
They want us to know that, in their world, the street feels like a war zone, and they're tired of it. They're tired of feeling like they have to gird themselves for battle just to walk out the door.
I remember that feeling. I don't experience it that often any more because a) I work in the studio most of the day (cat-call me in my house? I don't think so...) b) I drive to work, and can avoid groups of men on the street if I choose and c) I can put my mean face on in a heartbeat. Seems to do the trick. And, I can defuse tension. I sometimes smile at people on the street just because they look like they could use a smile ... I can block out comments from people whose pathologies are obvious.
But there are times when, for whatever reason, you can't block it out.
I remember having dinner with two of my most accomplished journalist friends, both women, names you would know. We were having a lovely time -- a rare girls night out, sans kids -- with nobody looking at her watch for a change. Three big young guys came walking toward us; we weren't afraid, didn't think anything of it (except maybe, boy those guys are big), until they got right in front of us, blocked our path, looked us up and down and announced...
"I'd do all of them."
It was a bit more crude than that but you get the picture. It was like being spat on (I've had that happen, too) ... and while it didn't ruin the evening, it left it tainted.
Sticks and stones ... and all that. Sorry, that's bull. You can say words only have the power we give them, but my question is: why? What is this need to demean, defile, and put down? What is the point?
I am glad those girls took the time to remind us that they should have the right to walk the streets with safety and dignity -- whether in Brooklyn or Baghdad.
More on other hot news tomorrow: doings in health care and looking ahead to the 4th...
UPDATE: For a copy of the film Hey Shorty, call Girls for Gender Equity at 718-857-1393. Or, you can drop them a line at info@ggenyc.org.
7:44 PM ET | 07- 2-2007 | permalink
7:44 PM ET | 07- 2-2007 | permalink

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