Silbar: to whistle

   I have never been so aware that I am female as I have been here. Everyday, rain or shine, work or party, hot or not there are whistles. While I like to think that I am something special, this event is most definitely not exclusive to me. Nearly every woman under the age of 35 who happens to walk in front of, next to, or within two blocks of any unpartnered man will elicit such a response. Furthermore, this concept is not confined to just whistling. There are also smoochy-kissy noises as well as "bonita," "guapa," and "linda." With the exception of the-incredibly-obvious-and-uncomfortable-once-over, most of these responses seem to be made on the sly after walking past said creeper. I'm not sure whether this is to hide the identity of the whistler or seem more subtle but the general personal effect felt has been incredible self-consciousness of how much my butt moves as I walk away.
   Initially (and admittedly still on occasion) I did not mind these little affirmations. With the exception of specific situations (free drinks, requests for phone numbers, etc.), it is usually difficult to gauge whether men in the states truly appreciate the effort exhausted to try and attract them. Generally here, a whistled compliment can be seen as just that and not as a deceptive ploy to try and get into bed with girls who have low self-esteem. There is rarely face-to-face interaction and no expectation of anything besides making her think, "yeah, I know I look good."
   However, since this device has not been used with such judiciousness, I have become less fond of it recently. It seems to me that returning in a mist of sweat from a run, leaving at 9am in old jeans and a sweatshirt for work, or walking alone at a dusky time are neither accurate nor opportune times to display this call. If hairy legs, pit stains, and frizzy hair can elicit it, how do I know that make-up and tight jeans mean more. Also, I don't know whether I am reading too much into it, but the men are quite insensitive to the environment in which they whistle. I've come to interpret this behavior as an issue of power and resent it very much. It isn't a fair response, as under certain, expected, circumstances I want to hear the whistle. But when I am alone or approaching a group of men (or both simultaneously) I hate, hate, hate the feeling that I am being examined in such a way.
   Example: Danielle and I went to a shopping area in Lima Centro last weekend. She was wearing shorts (quite modestly, but that doesn't seem to be the point here) and received lots of comments, so we were both becoming accustomed to the noise. After a bit, I suggested we pop over to the next building which displayed some purses in it's entrance. Nothing caught our eye so we continued through the corridors of stalls, chatting and ignoring all the vendors. After a bit, I noticed that we had reached a larger circular room with nearly 20 stalls situated around the exterior. I looked a bit closer at the DVDs they were selling and as it turned out, all 20 were vending porn. As soon as that bit of information clicked, along with the fact that we were the only women in the area, the whistles and kissy noises erupted. We hastened our walk, which only elicited more noise, until we reached the exit at almost a run.
   Outside we nervously laughed a bit about how oblivious we were, but really sort of realized how potentially dangerous the situation had been. The verbal acknowledgment that we didn't belong in that area and ought to feel self-conscious made me furious. I know that I was the one violating their cultural expectation of who is generally seen where, however I resent being forced to feel like I can't go how 50% of the population goes.
   The Monday after, on my beachfront run, I passed a man in a car who whistled. My immediate reaction was to mutter "screw you" (or similar version) under my breath. The beach is not desolate although much of it is quite solitary, but it wasn't even that I felt unsafe. I felt like I should be able to have some place where I can be left alone. I run for myself, not because I want to look good, but because I want to feel energized by the exercise and the ocean.
   I know it seems like I can't decide what I want, but I know. I would much rather hear nothing and be able to know for myself that I am safe, and strong, and treated with reasonable equality than to feel like I am valuable enough to look good and invaluable enough to be made to feel so uncomfortable.

And that was the rant for the day. More, happier news to come about what I've been up to this week!