The moment I realized what men wanted

Girls, we realize what our bodies mean to others early on in life. As soon as we are deemed old enough, we are taught to cover ourselves, to restrain from climbing that tree, to pick a Barbie doll or baby doll, to like the color pink, to come home early and if possible not go out at all, to cross our legs at church and please, for God's sake don't talk about your period in public. Soon we realize our male counterparts are not given these social cues but we do not protest because we don't know better than our parents. However, the initial shock of gender comes differently for every woman.

Rayuela

I was an underdeveloped 8-year-old girl playing Rayuela with my cousins one morning when I realized we had an audience. There was a construction site at the other side of the street and some of the men had stopped working to look at us play. Rayuela involves a lot of jumping and the hot weather of the Caribbean side of Costa Rica usually means that you are wearing very little. Somehow, I was amused by this and started playing harder and jumping higher. I remember my thoughts were "They must be cheering me on". As soon as my mother saw this, she immediately interrupted the game and we were rushed inside as if a big bad wolf was out to get us. She peeked thru the window as she scolded us, but me specifically for, and I quote “showing off what I don’t have”. But, how can I show off what I don’t have? - I asked.

Things were clearer to me at 11 years old when a taxi driver showed me his penis. I was headed to a friend’s house; it was a bit far away but I decided to walk anyway. I was used to getting places on my own due to the fact that I looked older that I was, I guess people assumed I was at least 14. A taxi driver approached me in this car asking if I needed a ride. He insisted despite my refusal and kept saying it wasn’t safe for a girl to walk alone. He had a bright yellow cloth covering his legs which he slowly removed as he tried to convince me.

The sight was horrific. I had never seen a live human male penis before that moment. Not even of a family member or parent. I ran as fast as I could and never told a soul of it until writing this piece. Why? Honestly the image still hunts me to this day.

In high school I was bullied for 2 years straight by a guy that later on asked me out, confessing he always liked me. This man made fun of my hair, skin, body, thoughts, my long lost Caribbean accent...basically everything I was and still am. The thought of him actually finding me attractive is mind blowing, slightly flattering and of course absolutely disgusting. I still remembered the revolting way in which he talked about my breasts once in a conversation he knew I was listening into.

At 22 I was headed to a dance class when a complete strange slapped me in the butt from a car that was passing by. My back was to the street and I was on my phone. I heard a car honking, just as I was about to turn I felt the hardest butt slap of my life. It was so hard I had to grab my cheek and massage the pain away. I had no time to curse at the man because they drove away fast and laughing . In fact, the men on the street that saw the whole thing also laughed, only and old lady looked at me pitifully and asked if I was ok. She saw that I was about to cry and she insisted I don’t give them the satisfaction. I will never forget her wise words. 

As a woman, I have had to reconcile and forgive myself and others for these and other rude awakenings into the world of sexuality. Men don’t get it easy either, however they will never understand what it’s like to feel unsafe, to deal with the threat that some male representatives pose onto us.

I can recall many other unpleasant experiences of sexual nature but I am also aware it could have been worst. I don’t pretend to victimize myself nor compare my stories to those of sexual abuse survivors. However, my story could have been that of your mother, sister, cousin, niece...I bet you all the money in the world, it actually is.

Now that I am in my 30’s I appreciate my sexuality and all that it represents. I understand that it can be used for good as well as for evil. I feel comfortable in my skin and it shows. But I can’t help it feeling sad about the things women and girls have to endure on a daily basis just for being female. How these experiences make and destroy their sense of self, how they can be afraid of their own bodies, of speaking up, of being honest in a world who tell us what we should do, say and think. Nevertheless, I love being a woman, wouldn’t want it any other way.

Who runs the world? Girls!