One of these things just doesn't belong here, one of these things is not quite the same

It's taken me a week to write this post, and even then I have battled with myself over whether to publish it, because it is genuinely not my intention to use my blog to complain or to write long posts about things I don't particularly like about wherever I happen to be. I love Mexico and I'm here of my own choice and my own doing. But like all the things dearest to us, I occasionally lose patience with Mexico and my tolerance kind of expires. 

Earlier this week, before I left the house to go to school, I asked my friend if she thought the way I was dressed (a knee-length dress with short sleeves, and a modestly-cut neckline) was, and I quote, "asking for it." We concluded that the exposure of both calves and elbows, combined with the admittedly bright (green) colour of the dress was, indeed, asking for it. So I subsequently changed into jeans, a baggy shirt, and an oversized woolen jumper to wear into the sweltering, humid labyrinth that is Mexico City's metro.  

In my case, the "it" for which I am apparently asking is calls, wolf whistles, lingering hungry and shameless stares, and the occasional (and by "occasional" I mean usually fewer than 5 per day) sexually explicit request / comment. Indivually, these actions hardly seem earth-shattering. But cumulatively, they are corrosive, and illustrative of an assumed male control, which troubles me deeply. 

I am blonde. After flirtations with red, chocolate brown, and almost-black, I am comfortable that being blonde is part of who I am, and proudly so. Being blonde means I do not fit in in Mexico, and I understand and accept that. 

I barely fit in here:

with my beautiful Mexican friends

Let alone here:

typical Mexico City metro scene

I try hard to reconcile the two competing parts of my personality which on the one hand believes I am a stranger here and therefore I should accept the cultural conditions of the country I have chosen to live in by, for example, dressing more modestly than at home (which I do); and the feminist part of me which believes that in a sophisticated, cosmopolitan City of 20+ million people where literally anything goes, then showing my calf muscles should not be considered "asking for it". (For the record, and much as it pains my inner feminist, I generally fall on the side of knees-and-elbows covered in public, just because it makes life easier.)

But occasionally my patience runs out when assumptions are made about me because of the way I look. There are, I'm sure, many women who would love the attention, being wolf-whistled at, and having kisses blown. I am not one of them. It makes me feel filthy, and vulnerable. It is nothing more than a power play, carried out by men who feel entitled to comment publicly on the way I look. There is a sense of ownership, of their viewing pleasure being the most important element of the interaction, which angers me. But the thing that angers me the most is the implication that this is my fault; that I am in the wrong; that I am somehow inviting this. That my very existence is so provocative that I deserve to be objectified. This, of course, is what is is designed to do - it is designed to remind me that the sexual gratification of the objectifier is paramount, and that I am nothing more than an object to achieve that end. And that pisses me off, because along with being blonde, I've got a lot more going on as a human being. I am also really smart, and motivated, and fiercely independent. 

There are those who argue this kind of behaviour signifies an "appreciation of women". To those people I say: bullshit. That is nothing more than seeking to excuse the behaviour of men who feel they have the right to objectify. This is not about appreciation, it is about power and control and the primacy of these men's viewing pleasure over women's individual freedoms. And it pisses me off.   

I should be clear that I am in no way implying that all Mexican men behave this way - they certainly don't, and the vast majority of Mexicans I've had the pleasure of meeting have been respectful, honourable gentlemen. In this delightful, genial country where strangers never fail to tell you "salud" when you sneeze, and warmly wish you "provecho" before you eat, it is a tragedy that a tiny, vocal minority ruin it for the vast majority. 

Much of the bone I have to pick with this stems from advertising and the media. A friend explained to me that in large part it is because blondes are portrayed here as they appear in many US TV shows - the Pamela Andersons and the Playboy Bunnies and the connotations that - rightly or wrongly - go along with it. But I think it is bigger than that. I recently walked past an advertisement here in Mexico which enraged me. It was an advertisement featuring this girl, with the slogan - in English - "Be You." 

Be you. As long as "you" is a stupid ideal you can never reach.

 Where to begin with the things that enrage me about this? Firstly, I find the implication enraging that because this gorgeous woman has a gap in her teeth, she somehow needs to overcome this "flaw" and "be herself". The model is stunning, as are the other models used in the GAP "be you" campaign. But that's an aside the the cultural and racial problem I have with the campaign. GAP is opening a new store in Mexico - you'd think they might consider advertising to their target market in their own language, rather than English. But more importantly, and related to this point, is that no one in Mexico looks like this. Really honestly no one does. There are some incredibly beautiful Mexican women, and yet for some inexplicable reason, companies advertise in this market with an "ideal" that no Mexican can realistically aspire to. Mexican women look like this, and this and even this. But they do not look like this or this or this. WHY then do we insist on trying to sell products via an unattainable "ideal"? It offends me as a blonde white woman, I can't even begin to think how mad it would make me as a dark haired, darker skinned woman. I suppose I should just be grateful that for once it wasn't a blonde featured in a porn shot, as appeared on the back page of a daily newspaper last week.

The historian in me would like to think this is merely a question of 'otherness'. Blondes are interesting because they're different. To an extent I'm sure that's true, but that doesn't make it ok for men to use the way I look for their own gratification, and to make me feel filthy in the process. 

So, this is a rant that I intend to get off my chest once and once only. I didn't want to publish it, because I really, really love Mexico. But any time that an intelligent, feminist-identifying woman has to question whether or not she's "asking for it", we have ourselves a problem. I don't have a solution, except to get really good at layering up in public. 

SIGH.