Want some fries with that shake?

Ladies, this blog post is about something you may have thought could only be found at construction sites in the U.S., and then only occasionally. You know … that extra attention women get from some men while walking down the street: ogling, whistling, cat calls, obnoxious shouts of approval, lewd comments about shakin’ various things. In some places in Latin America, this is taken to a whole other level. During my first long-term stay in another country, when I spent several months in Panama, it was amazing to me how much attention I got from men on the street. There, the sign of male admiration was expressed with the hiss. Hissing was as inevitable as the thick humidity, more certain than the afternoon rain during rainy season, more common than the tree frogs nightly burping. And please don’t think I am bragging. I was far from the only hissee and it wasn’t because I was some “exotic foreigner.” Most all women were hissed at: local, foreign, short, tall, fat, thin, all ages, skin colors, styles of dress. I suppose then, that all women were appreciated in some way, at least on the physical level. Granted, I never saw an old lady getting the “hey baby” hiss, but by and large, it was common to be admired in this manner.

Coming from a country where most women do not appreciate such attention, at least not in such generous daily (or hourly) doses, I do get a little sick of it. It’s just too much. I ignore it, but I want to yell, “What? What do you want? Do you want me to check out your new shirt? Do you want me to see if there is spinach in your teeth? Do you want me to meet your mother? What the hell is it that you want? I don’t speak hiss. So please be a little more specific.”

But I never yell that. I just ignore it. I put on my game face, act like I cannot hear a thing, and keep on walking.

“Here I am, walking down the street, I don’t hear you, obnoxious dude yelling from the rooftop instead of securing that metal sheet as your job requires. I don’t hear you as you continue to yell louder and louder the further away I get. If I look at you, or acknowledge your existence, you will think you’ve won. If I say anything, you and your buddies will think I am interested. I will have no part of that. You will not win. And it looks like the woman coming up behind me, the one who is from here, and grew up here, is on the same page with me. She is also ignoring you. So it’s not just me. Although I suspect she is much more used to it and more tolerant, i.e. she is not screaming at you inside her head. Man, if you could only hear what I was thinking! But instead, you just get to see me walk away.”

There was one particular instance in Panama City that drove me to a different solution. I had just had lunch with a friend, and was waiting for a taxi outside the café alone. The afternoon rain had started, so the downpour made it more difficult to get a taxi. I was just waiting outside, under the building overhang, and two guys started talking to me. Yes, this was a little braver than the distant hiss. I still tried to ignore them. I just wasn’t in the mood to play their little game. I ignored them and pretty soon they decided that I didn’t understand Spanish, so they switched to English. When I continued to ignore them, they didn’t get the hint. They just kept trying and trying to get me to engage. So finally, I turned to them angrily and said, “Vischde rpenonloweniogs co ystteose dpoehioeqe tpoexksa! Qeionsoizp sodgiupds!” Or something like it. That’s correct; I made up a language and yelled it at them. And by golly, it worked. They looked at each other, completely baffled, and said “I don’t think she speaks English.” I tried to keep from laughing until I was in the taxi.

Guatemala was another place where over-the-top male attention was hard to avoid. Although the hiss wasn't their thing, the men did do a lot of talking. And sometimes more. A guy rode by my Danish friend on a motorcycle and slapped her butt. She said it hurt like hell. One afternoon I was walking down the street near my host home and some guys leaned out of their SUV, yelling at me, and took my picture. Seriously? There are many similar stories that I know many traveling women could tell you about. It is part of visiting another culture. You’re not always going to appreciate or like the cultural differences you encounter. It is what it is. Just know that really all you can do is ignore this particular difference. Maybe even try to appreciate it a little bit (okay, that might be pushing it but at least they're not throwing rotten fruit at you).

I have been to countries in Latin America where this behavior is not very common, so it does not exist everywhere. Sometimes, being in the company of a man keeps the attention at bay (sometimes). Encountering it doesn’t make me like or dislike a place any more or less. However, when I have spent a good amount of time where male attention like this is as common as arroz y frijoles, it is a bit odd to come back to my country, where I am virtually invisible. It is kind of weird. I almost feel neglected. “Hey North American boys, I’m not good enough for you? Is that it?”

More recently, I was cruising around Austin with my brother in his truck and almost felt like I was back in one of those countries. At every corner, men were gawking. I mean their eyes would go down, then up, eyebrows raised with a grin of approval. I thought, “Wow, I must look really good today.” And then one guy yells, “What year?” And just as I was about to answer, “A lady never tells,” my brother yells back “66!” Then I realize the gawking is not for me; it’s for the truck (check it out below). The truck!

Oh well, this ain’t Panama, girlfriend. I think maybe it’s time for another trip to Central America. 

HOW TO GET SOME ATTENTION IN THE U.S.  ... Fact: This 1966
Chevy pick-up is prettier than me. I wonder if it's ever been hissed at.