One of the first albums I owned was No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom. I remember my cousin insisting it was better than Backstreet Boys or the boy bands that lined my friend's shelves. My favorite song was Just A Girl'. The first line: Take this pink ribbon off my eyes spoke to my mini inner feminist. That's right- I don't need a pink blind fold. I'm strong! I'm independent! I won't hold your hand! & then I grew up. I realized that sometimes burning your bra, just leaves a gross smell and a pile of ashes.
This last week, I was a floorwalker at work. That's right, this Callgirl was a Floorgirl. I moved up in life and it felt good... But again, my idea of being a strong, independent woman was questioned. At the end of the night, I was waiting in the parking lot for my brother to come get me. He of course was running late. That was fine, right? It was dark, foggy and my mind was adrift, reviewing how everything had went. Then I see it. A car: grey, plain, nothing overtly distinguishable. It drove towards me and I pulled out my whistle, a Fox, ultra sonic one. [Because that will do me a shit load of good in the middle of an industrial area. It's like space: no one would hear me scream.] Visions of my face on milk cartons danced in my head; of Law and Order writing an episode about me [but not based on anything specific].
Much to my surprise, it's another supervisor. She asked me if everything was okay? Where my ride was? I explained that because of the weather, my brother was riding a bit late. [Lying through my teeth I may add.] And that opened the floodgates: How irresponsible! Did he not know I was a girl? [Yes, he does.] Alone in a parking lot? [I'm not sure if his thoughts got that far.] At midnight? [Assuming there was a digital clock around, he'd know the time.] She refused to leave, breeding both feelings of relief and indignation.
Yes, I have a vagina and ovaries. Yes, I identify as female. So I can't stand alone in a parking lot? Does having feminine reproductive organs mean I should be scared of something so benign? Okay... I was a little freaked out. That's what society [and 48 Hours Mystery] has ingrained into my psyche. Boobs= Assaultable. Parking lot= asking for it. I was all primed and ready to be a Dateline Special. Every inch of me protested her writing me off as vulnerable. Truth is? I was and it annoyed me to think about it.
Why do they have marches like Taking Back the Night? To assert our independence. To tell those who prey upon us: Shut the Front Door! We're not scared of you!
But we are.
No one wants to be a statistic. No one wants to be hurt. And none of us want to be afraid. I want to live in a world, where we don't have to worry about those things. Where I can wait for my brother without someone being concerned for my safety. I want to be able to one day let my hypothetical daughter walk home from school and not end up as an Amber Alert. Right now, we don't.
Signing off optimistic and waiting for Utopia to arise, the Call Girl xx
[Photo rights to Jon Plimmer- One of the good guys.]
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