I was already a bit angry at men before I left the United States, but living and traveling abroad caused my feelings to grow and fester. The inequality, discrimination and violence I have seen systematically perpetuated against women in developing countries left me raw.
***
On the flight to India was when I first realized how much I had been affected by what I had seen in the past couple of years. A few days prior my sister had mentioned that there are ‘female only’ cars on the metro in Delhi because women are often groped or harassed by men on public transit. I was already aware that three months ago a 23-year old Indian woman died from internal injuries after she was gang-raped on a bus. The case had caught international attention, prompted public outcry, and led to the passage of more substantive rape laws. I was disgusted by the incident, and the information made me weary of India.
Then the plane ride seemed to confirm my fears.
There was a couple sitting next to me. When we boarded the plane, after settling into their seats, the man immediately reached over and buckled the woman’s safety belt then wrapped his hand in her inner thigh protectively. Later, he ordered food for her, unwrapping the container of noodles, and directing her to eat. After the meal she put on headphones, but every few minutes he yanked one side away from her ear to talk to her. Near the end of the flight he filled out her arrival forms for her. The man was invasive, controlling, and condescending. I examined his wife’s expressions closely and I saw that underneath a façade of complacency, she looked miserable – defeated. As I sat next to them, my throat tightened, my breath became constricted, and I felt as if I was suffocating. I became irrationally outraged at the man’s behavior, and I wanted to scream at him. It was as if he represented all men; and there were a million things I wanted to say to him. You slovenly greedy pig, I thought. You think women are the weaker sex but they are the ones who do everything – work, cook, clean, raise the kids - while you sniff around the streets for porn and prostitutes. You are animals driven by physical need and violence - not logic or compassion.
I was taken aback by the force of my malice, but I could only hope it would soon subside.
When I arrived, I spent my first full day in Agra, the site of the Taj Mahal, which is a shrine built by an emperor in honor of his third wife who died giving birth to his fourteenth child.
On the train ride to visit the monument I read a news article about a Swiss tourist who was gang-raped on a cycling trip through with her husband. A few days later I picked up the paper and saw that a British tourist was sexually assaulted in Agra. And in a nearby town, another foreigner had been harassed by five young men on a bus until the driver stopped the vehicle at a police station. Several countries have recently issued security warnings for women traveling alone in India, citing unwanted attention and risks.
In India it is estimated that a woman is raped every twenty minutes.
In Calcutta, there were billboards placed on the block corners that read “Women should not be refugees in their own city.”
Looking around, women seemed to be absent from the public sphere. In the crowded streets, the tightly-packed buses, and the chaotic lines at store counters there were hoards of men and just a few women interspersed. At hotels, restaurants, and shops, all the employees were male.
Evidence points to selective abortion and neglect of female children. In Punjab, girls aged two to four die at twice the rate of boys. In a natural state, there is a male to female ratio of one to one, but the 2011 Census estimated the ratio of males to females in India as 914 to 1000. In some states, the female ratio is as low as 830. Given the population size, these numbers indicate that millions of girls are missing.
The result is an environment pulsing with testosterone: pushy, competitive and disordered.
***
Admittedly, I was already prone to a certain perspective of men before leaving home.
In the United States, I had witnessed the aftermath of rape several times. The first was when I was a freshman in college. My roommate and I had returned to our dorm late one night when we received a phone call. A good friend of ours had been raped by another friend’s brother who had offered to walk her home. We took her to the emergency room that night, and then saw how her life changed in the days afterward.
I know too many family members, friends, and even acquaintances that have been raped or sexually abused. I have also been a victim. I have also helped a stranger on the street after she was attacked.
According to statistics almost one in five women in the U.S. has been raped or sexual abused.
If you consider the strictest legal definition I don’t know one woman who has not been sexually assaulted – who has never had her butt grabbed or her chest groped.
In the United States a woman is raped every two minutes.
***
When I moved to Cameroon, I was surprised to find women doing the farming. My previous travels had been in Latin America, where the machismo culture allows men a degree of pride in “taking care of” women.
In Africa, women are valued only as labor. They farm the land, prepare the meals, clean the house, wash the clothes, and take care of the children. They often have small businesses on the streets, selling food or common household products. In contrast, on any given day, many men are likely to be listening to the radio, sitting with friends, or drinking at bars and cabarets.
Dowries are still common and polygamy is legal in many countries. The suitor pays the father an agreed upon price for the marriage, and the number of wives a man has often correlates with the amount of land he needs farmed. Girls as young as nine are sold into marriage when a family needs extra income.
In South Africa, a woman is raped every twenty-six seconds.
About forty-eight women are raped in the Democratic Republic of the Congo every hour.
Living and traveling in Africa, I felt as if I had to shield myself from mental rape.
Walking down the street, men would hiss, grunt, and cat-call to me. They would stare at me lasciviously, profess their love, and occasionally grab at my wrists or waist as I passed. I wore clothes that covered everything, stopped making eye contact, and was always ready to deflect advances. I became hyper-sensitive to every tone and gesture, resisting any request and becoming furious at even the slightest brush of a sleeve.
When I did not respond they sometimes became insulting. Once, a man told me whites and women were the lowest forms of life on the planet, - thus making me, as a white women, the absolute scum of the earth.
Every so often I would arbitrarily explode. On a bus ride another passenger asked me in broken English whether I “sleep in Maroua.” I went on an irate rampage, telling him he was being inappropriate and that where I slept was none of his business. He was baffled and apologetic. Another time, in a grocery store in Zimbabwe, I was searching for a certain brand of detergent when I noticed a security guard observing me. I seethed as he walked toward me and then stood closely behind me. I whipped around and shouted at him, “What?! What the hell are you looking at?! Do you need something?!”
***
In South East Asia, I felt relieved when I saw that men paid no attention to me. But the relief did not last; I soon realized that more vulnerable women were the target. In Bangkok nearly every white man I saw had a younger Thai on his arm, some as young as fifteen with fifty-year-old foreigners.
In Thailand, men peddle pornographic DVDs and photos, Viagra, and adult toys on the sides of the streets. They hold out fold-up brochures with pictures of naked women and prices listed to the side. At night, massage parlors dim their lights and the women put on red lipstick and mini-skirts. Hotels warn of fines for overnight guests.
Studies estimate that there are between 150,000 and 2 million prostitutes in Thailand; 75,000 are children.
***
Rape, sexual abuse, molestation - of women, children, infants – all perpetuated mainly by men.
And the statistics do not stop at sexual violence.
A vast majority of criminals are male – 92.9% of prisoners in the United States; and they commit violent crimes at a per capita rate six times that of women.
One study determined that in the most male dominated cultures there is more rape, kidnapping, murder, assault, robbery, fraud, child neglect and child abuse.
Another study showed that men are “more likely than women to minimize the consequences of moral misconduct, to adopt ethically questionable tactics in strategic endeavors, and to engage in greater deceit.” Evidence also shows they are more likely to cheat on their partner in marriages and relationships.
Thus, it seems that on the scale of good and evil, men are falling closer to the latter.
In much of art, folklore, and mythology demons are given male characteristics; angels have female attributes.
Social scientists explain statistical differences in violent crime as a result of biology. Due to evolution, men are naturally more competitive and aggressive, and thus more prone to violence. Women are naturally more compassionate as a result of reproduction and the role of nurturer in the mother-child relationship. Other factors such as socialization, education, and religion also affect behavior.
***
In Zen Buddhism there is a story of a samurai who wanted to know about heaven and hell. He traveled a long distance to pose his question to an enlightened master. But when he did, the master responded “Why would I tell a miserable worm like you? You are just an idiot samurai, incapable of comprehending any wisdom.” The samurai grew enraged as the monk continued to insult him, drew his sword, and was about to strike the other man when the master declared, “That is hell.” The samurai, understanding, fell to his knees and began to weep in apology. “And that is heaven,” the master replied.
On the flight to India, I was filled with such hatred that it felt like tar in my lungs and gut.
The hardest thing for me as I have lived and traveled abroad has not been the poverty, the filth, or the disorder - as I was more mentally prepared for all of these- but the degree and extent of gender discrimination. And in India, walking through crowds of shouting, honking, pushing men has brought the tar to the surface – black, bubbling, and easy for me to get stuck in.
Surprisingly though, I am finding that I am moving beyond my anger; I feel pity. I see how we are alike – hostile, aggressive, and trapped in a hell we have created for ourselves.
I see that biology aside, men and women have the same potential for good and evil.
Above all, we have choice.
To enter the gates of heaven we must bow with the samurai, weep in apology, and forgive.
***
On the flight to India was when I first realized how much I had been affected by what I had seen in the past couple of years. A few days prior my sister had mentioned that there are ‘female only’ cars on the metro in Delhi because women are often groped or harassed by men on public transit. I was already aware that three months ago a 23-year old Indian woman died from internal injuries after she was gang-raped on a bus. The case had caught international attention, prompted public outcry, and led to the passage of more substantive rape laws. I was disgusted by the incident, and the information made me weary of India.
Then the plane ride seemed to confirm my fears.
There was a couple sitting next to me. When we boarded the plane, after settling into their seats, the man immediately reached over and buckled the woman’s safety belt then wrapped his hand in her inner thigh protectively. Later, he ordered food for her, unwrapping the container of noodles, and directing her to eat. After the meal she put on headphones, but every few minutes he yanked one side away from her ear to talk to her. Near the end of the flight he filled out her arrival forms for her. The man was invasive, controlling, and condescending. I examined his wife’s expressions closely and I saw that underneath a façade of complacency, she looked miserable – defeated. As I sat next to them, my throat tightened, my breath became constricted, and I felt as if I was suffocating. I became irrationally outraged at the man’s behavior, and I wanted to scream at him. It was as if he represented all men; and there were a million things I wanted to say to him. You slovenly greedy pig, I thought. You think women are the weaker sex but they are the ones who do everything – work, cook, clean, raise the kids - while you sniff around the streets for porn and prostitutes. You are animals driven by physical need and violence - not logic or compassion.
I was taken aback by the force of my malice, but I could only hope it would soon subside.
When I arrived, I spent my first full day in Agra, the site of the Taj Mahal, which is a shrine built by an emperor in honor of his third wife who died giving birth to his fourteenth child.
On the train ride to visit the monument I read a news article about a Swiss tourist who was gang-raped on a cycling trip through with her husband. A few days later I picked up the paper and saw that a British tourist was sexually assaulted in Agra. And in a nearby town, another foreigner had been harassed by five young men on a bus until the driver stopped the vehicle at a police station. Several countries have recently issued security warnings for women traveling alone in India, citing unwanted attention and risks.
In India it is estimated that a woman is raped every twenty minutes.
In Calcutta, there were billboards placed on the block corners that read “Women should not be refugees in their own city.”
Looking around, women seemed to be absent from the public sphere. In the crowded streets, the tightly-packed buses, and the chaotic lines at store counters there were hoards of men and just a few women interspersed. At hotels, restaurants, and shops, all the employees were male.
Evidence points to selective abortion and neglect of female children. In Punjab, girls aged two to four die at twice the rate of boys. In a natural state, there is a male to female ratio of one to one, but the 2011 Census estimated the ratio of males to females in India as 914 to 1000. In some states, the female ratio is as low as 830. Given the population size, these numbers indicate that millions of girls are missing.
The result is an environment pulsing with testosterone: pushy, competitive and disordered.
***
Admittedly, I was already prone to a certain perspective of men before leaving home.
In the United States, I had witnessed the aftermath of rape several times. The first was when I was a freshman in college. My roommate and I had returned to our dorm late one night when we received a phone call. A good friend of ours had been raped by another friend’s brother who had offered to walk her home. We took her to the emergency room that night, and then saw how her life changed in the days afterward.
I know too many family members, friends, and even acquaintances that have been raped or sexually abused. I have also been a victim. I have also helped a stranger on the street after she was attacked.
According to statistics almost one in five women in the U.S. has been raped or sexual abused.
If you consider the strictest legal definition I don’t know one woman who has not been sexually assaulted – who has never had her butt grabbed or her chest groped.
In the United States a woman is raped every two minutes.
***
When I moved to Cameroon, I was surprised to find women doing the farming. My previous travels had been in Latin America, where the machismo culture allows men a degree of pride in “taking care of” women.
In Africa, women are valued only as labor. They farm the land, prepare the meals, clean the house, wash the clothes, and take care of the children. They often have small businesses on the streets, selling food or common household products. In contrast, on any given day, many men are likely to be listening to the radio, sitting with friends, or drinking at bars and cabarets.
Dowries are still common and polygamy is legal in many countries. The suitor pays the father an agreed upon price for the marriage, and the number of wives a man has often correlates with the amount of land he needs farmed. Girls as young as nine are sold into marriage when a family needs extra income.
In South Africa, a woman is raped every twenty-six seconds.
About forty-eight women are raped in the Democratic Republic of the Congo every hour.
Living and traveling in Africa, I felt as if I had to shield myself from mental rape.
Walking down the street, men would hiss, grunt, and cat-call to me. They would stare at me lasciviously, profess their love, and occasionally grab at my wrists or waist as I passed. I wore clothes that covered everything, stopped making eye contact, and was always ready to deflect advances. I became hyper-sensitive to every tone and gesture, resisting any request and becoming furious at even the slightest brush of a sleeve.
When I did not respond they sometimes became insulting. Once, a man told me whites and women were the lowest forms of life on the planet, - thus making me, as a white women, the absolute scum of the earth.
Every so often I would arbitrarily explode. On a bus ride another passenger asked me in broken English whether I “sleep in Maroua.” I went on an irate rampage, telling him he was being inappropriate and that where I slept was none of his business. He was baffled and apologetic. Another time, in a grocery store in Zimbabwe, I was searching for a certain brand of detergent when I noticed a security guard observing me. I seethed as he walked toward me and then stood closely behind me. I whipped around and shouted at him, “What?! What the hell are you looking at?! Do you need something?!”
***
In South East Asia, I felt relieved when I saw that men paid no attention to me. But the relief did not last; I soon realized that more vulnerable women were the target. In Bangkok nearly every white man I saw had a younger Thai on his arm, some as young as fifteen with fifty-year-old foreigners.
In Thailand, men peddle pornographic DVDs and photos, Viagra, and adult toys on the sides of the streets. They hold out fold-up brochures with pictures of naked women and prices listed to the side. At night, massage parlors dim their lights and the women put on red lipstick and mini-skirts. Hotels warn of fines for overnight guests.
Studies estimate that there are between 150,000 and 2 million prostitutes in Thailand; 75,000 are children.
***
Rape, sexual abuse, molestation - of women, children, infants – all perpetuated mainly by men.
And the statistics do not stop at sexual violence.
A vast majority of criminals are male – 92.9% of prisoners in the United States; and they commit violent crimes at a per capita rate six times that of women.
One study determined that in the most male dominated cultures there is more rape, kidnapping, murder, assault, robbery, fraud, child neglect and child abuse.
Another study showed that men are “more likely than women to minimize the consequences of moral misconduct, to adopt ethically questionable tactics in strategic endeavors, and to engage in greater deceit.” Evidence also shows they are more likely to cheat on their partner in marriages and relationships.
Thus, it seems that on the scale of good and evil, men are falling closer to the latter.
In much of art, folklore, and mythology demons are given male characteristics; angels have female attributes.
Social scientists explain statistical differences in violent crime as a result of biology. Due to evolution, men are naturally more competitive and aggressive, and thus more prone to violence. Women are naturally more compassionate as a result of reproduction and the role of nurturer in the mother-child relationship. Other factors such as socialization, education, and religion also affect behavior.
***
In Zen Buddhism there is a story of a samurai who wanted to know about heaven and hell. He traveled a long distance to pose his question to an enlightened master. But when he did, the master responded “Why would I tell a miserable worm like you? You are just an idiot samurai, incapable of comprehending any wisdom.” The samurai grew enraged as the monk continued to insult him, drew his sword, and was about to strike the other man when the master declared, “That is hell.” The samurai, understanding, fell to his knees and began to weep in apology. “And that is heaven,” the master replied.
On the flight to India, I was filled with such hatred that it felt like tar in my lungs and gut.
The hardest thing for me as I have lived and traveled abroad has not been the poverty, the filth, or the disorder - as I was more mentally prepared for all of these- but the degree and extent of gender discrimination. And in India, walking through crowds of shouting, honking, pushing men has brought the tar to the surface – black, bubbling, and easy for me to get stuck in.
Surprisingly though, I am finding that I am moving beyond my anger; I feel pity. I see how we are alike – hostile, aggressive, and trapped in a hell we have created for ourselves.
I see that biology aside, men and women have the same potential for good and evil.
Above all, we have choice.
To enter the gates of heaven we must bow with the samurai, weep in apology, and forgive.
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