GOD BLESS AMERICA! New York is a very “interpersonal” city. Like it or not, we are constantly in contact with others, and this contact is bound to bring about some encounters. In my years of visiting and living in NYC, I have had many of these, encounters. When I first came to NYC in 1993 I remember passing a man on the street who had all of the indications of homelessness, and as I passed he shouted “GOD BLESS AMERICA.” Yes, this exclamation was intended for me. Surprisingly (or not) I was flattered by this reaction that my passing had generated. After moving to New York, I was reminded of this encounter numerous times as others, possibly homeless, that I passed made similar statements, and I reflected on the idea that although these men probably made this comment to each and every woman that passed their way that day, I was still flattered by their platitudes.

But now, as a “ jaded New Yorker”, I have developed a different response to the naïve pleasure of my youth (this is supposed to make you laugh). Now, my question is, “Why do men feel that they have a right to comment on my body?”

I am cute. I am not gorgeous. I am a white girl with a J-Lo booty and in today’s society that is not particularly attractive. My husband thinks I am hot and a) that is all that matters b) he is the only one who really knows, so I don’t really think anyone else should comment about it. Soooo, what makes men in our society feel that they have the a) right b) jurisdiction c) audacity d) balls to comment to a woman that they don’t know about her body?

For example, last week I was standing at the door of the gym where I take Pilates and a man passed by and blurted, “Don’t work out too hard—you don’t want to mess with THAT!” There are many directions I could go here—for example, to explore what, exactly, he meant by “THAT”, but I will stick to the topic. Now, I would like to think that he is a man with zero social skills and an inability to censor himself, but the reality is that he was an average (very average) guy walking alone, who felt that he could, at any point, comment openly on the state of any female person he passed.

After leaving Pilates I returned to my building, which I happened to enter at the same time as a group of maintenance workers. Immediately, one held the door for me while exclaiming “Here ya go, Sweetie.” SWEETIE!!!! I am not sweet, nor am I unable to open the door to the building where I reside.

This leads me to my fundamental question as I stated it earlier: Why do men feel that they have the right to comment on my body and/or level of attractiveness? If the feminist movement has done its work shouldn’t we be in a place where we are all respected as human beings with intellect and complex thought—not just big booties? But, ahhh, here is the rub.

It is my opinion that the greatest foe of the women’s movement is, in fact, women. Oh yes, I too want to blame these loose-tongued men but the reality is that when I pass the bodega on my corner the window is plastered with magazine covers of women in little to no clothing just begging for every male, both working and degenerate, to comment. And when I turn on the TV I must look no further than VH-1 to see women provocatively bringing to reality that the best thing they have to offer is their sexuality. It is important to note that the magazines are targeted to both men and women, and the videos are produced by both male and female artists. I thank the entertainment industry for so clearly illustrating my point.

So, I know what “God Bless America” man and “don’t mess with THAT” guy think . . . what about you?
posted by: Allison at: 7:42 PM -