Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Not interested.

At first it was odd, but kind of funny. Then, it was like an uncomfortable ego-boost. It quickly became irritating and evolved into insulting. Now, it just fills me with seething anger. I can feel this sense of repulsion bubbling in my stomach every time I accidentally make eye contact, and await mental disrobing by some 40-something man who lacks that good, old, puritanical, American sense of shame that I've really grown to miss.

I can deal with the stares, though. I'm used to it. Plus, I'm white. I'd stare, too. In fact, I generally do, while thinking, "Hey! Another cracker! Where could this honkie be from?" I guess now, it's the noises that get to me. No, you know what? I can deal with that, too. The worst of all, is the thing that a lot of Americans would probably find the most respectable. Not the gawking, not the catcalls... the conversation.

It's actually when people talk to me. Men using the little English they learned in high school language classes, assuming that my genitals will undoubtedly erupt in fiery, erotic lust at their broken interpretation of my native tongue. How could I POSSIBLY resist such confidence? They're so right. Nothing makes me want to jump on a complete stranger's tiny cock like the gross sense of entitlement that convinces this presumptuous fuckface that he merits, no, deserves to have his macho Mexican way with me.

Yes, I'm young and foreign. Yes, I'm vulnerable, frightened, and uncomfortable in this new environment.

But hear me, you pathetic excuse for the generic, pseudo-masculine, excrement of our sexist society: I am NOT letting you take advantage of my naivety by lowering my guard long enough to let in your sad, perpetually-rejected penis.

So, please. Stop staring. Stop yelling and making noises and honking. Stop bothering me while I eat breakfast. Don't follow me on my way home. If you can't get girls from your own country, why would you have more of a chance with an attractive, American chick half your age?

Just so we're all on the same page here:

Nunca te voy a dar mi numero. Nunca voy a salir contigo. Y, por el valor que me da la inteligencia, por el respeto que tengo por mi cuerpo, y por mi dignidad como mujer: NUNCA te voy a coger. Ahora, dejame en paz...cabron.


I'm. Not. Interested.


P.S. In case you're thinking I might be overreacting, just imagine some cocky white guy sitting next to a Mexican chick at your college dining hall. Imagine him saying, "Hey, gorgeous. Look, I'm gonna teach you all about American culture. Why don't you go ahead and give me your number, and I'll show you around the city, sound good? I'll even let you come back to my place and practice your English with me over dinner." Now what would be the girl's proper reaction to such a condescending form of objectification? Swift kick in the balls? Agreed, but you know what I do? I uncomfortably smile and say "Thank you, but I'm meeting someone" or "I have a boyfriend, but thanks anyway." Then I eventually have to leave, or walk the other way, or pretend to answer my phone because they don't take no for an answer. It makes you feel powerless, and stupid, and weak. It also makes you question your self-worth, like, "Why is he so certain that I have low enough standards to go off with some stranger? What's wrong with ME, that would make him think I don't have enough value to reject his advances?"

NOW try to tell me this rant is harsh.

There are some things I'm excited to leave in Mexico.

1 comment:

  1. Your stories are funny and awesome....I wish you would have written more tho. ..in white married to a Mexican dude so I know where you're coming from ...you rock! :)

    ReplyDelete