Photo by Sven Gabriel

Today, I was the image of a radiant woman. I saw Slumdog Millionaire for the first time a few days ago, and ever since then I have felt viscerally joyous and happy about who I am. I am ecstatic that I still have working legs. I can dance and jump and twirl and do sprints and lift weights and hike mountains and have fun on beaches and traipse around foreign countries with big backpacks if I want to. I can do flying trapeze and backbends and slide down sand dunes and scream at the top of my lungs while I do somersaults and dive off of boats in the Caribbean.

The film also brought home to me the fact that I am actually privileged to have the choices – physical choices – that I have, because not everyone has them. I saw a blind man on the subway the other day and gave him money because I though to myself, that man is brave. He gets up every morning and goes about his business just like the rest of us, only he can’t see anything. I can barely find my cell phone in my purse in the dark, let alone my way around NEW YORK CITY. He is brave as fuck, and I’m fortunate to have two working eyes. 

I OWN you!

The point is, all that joy meant that I was RADIANT today. I dressed nicely – nothing fancy, just jeans that show off my figure and a hot leather jacket and sexy, straightened hair. But I don’t think it was as much the fact that I looked good on the outside as that I was radiating gratitude and excitement from the inside. Everywhere I went, men whistled, stopped what they were doing to check me out, or gave me thumbs-up signs. It was incredible! I felt like I owned the city, like I really belonged, like I could have it all – and be appreciated for that.

By the way, a big shout-out to all the men from the Black and Latino communities. I’m not black so I can’t officially call you ‘brothers,’ but what the hell – I’m officially calling this a diverse blog and I’m a diverse woman, so I’ll just say it: to all my brothers who are not afraid to whistle at a woman or tell her she looks great, THANK YOU!

Mmm, yes please. Check me out. Check me out right now.

I like seeing the look of admiration on your face when I walk by and I’m looking good and you know I’m looking good. I don’t mind that you’re checking out my ass, cause I’m in my 20s now, and I’m not gonna be forever. I know some women get uptight about receiving compliments on the street, who feel it’s demeaning to get looked at in this way, but to me it’s a compliment. It makes me smile, and sometimes makes me laugh.

No, no, I was whistling WITH you, not AT you!

Interestingly, I find that this rarely happens with white men. Caucasian males appear to feel a lot of shame and guilt about checking out women. Personally, I believe this is because white American culture is derived from the Puritans. White Americans are extremely sexually repressed, but in denial about it. In white culture it’s unacceptable, disrespectful, or men are afraid that giving a genuinely sexually appreciative look or comment will freak a woman out. And that’s a shame, because when the checking-out – whether a whistle, a smile, or a comment – is genuine (i.e. not a creepy, I’m-going-to-get-you kind of thing), it’s encouraging. I’m thinking in particular of the guy the other day who got off the subway with me and very authentically said, “That’s a great outfit.” He wasn’t doing it to get attention or prove his masculinity – he clearly just meant it, and it was flattering.

Maybe if we walk quickly, they won't notice us in our neon pink top and neon blue skirt...

I also particularly like that feeling of sharing something. For example, I’m multi-lingual, and one of the languages I speak very comfortably is Spanish. I was on the subway platform recently and this Latino guy was talking to another about me, and he even addressed me (in Spanish) to say, “You are the most beautiful woman, I want to marry you!” then said something else funny, at which point I laughed. When he realized I understood him his eyes widened and he turned to his friend, all freaked out, and in Spanish said, “She knows Spanish!!” It was amusing. Anyway, I doubt I had a lot in common with this guy but we did share this moment, and when I got on the train I stepped to the window and put my hand up to it, and he smiled this huge smile and blew me a kiss and waved. It was touching. We connected on a human level.

So what do you think? Is whistling an obnoxious form of misogynistic despicability or a sign of admiration and approval? Yes, those are the only two choices.

In my opinion, it's never too early to get started.

VIXEN LINK OF THE DAY:

Uncomfortably Sexual Company Logos