Mahmoudi
"When I am king, you will be the first against the wall."
- Radiohead,
"Paranoid Android"
When I was younger, my mother and I would often have philosophical conversations.
"God has to be a man," she'd say.
"Why else would he make it so hard for women to go to the restroom, when all men have to do is stand there?"
I used to only see the humor in that, thinking somehow that mere physical differences could not somehow indicate the gender of a doubted higher being.
Lately, I see that it is not necessarily the appearance that makes the difference, but actually the attitude.
Having worked in retail for almost five years now, I have been forced to adapt and communicate with a wide variety of people. It is, of course, no surprise that I must deal with humans of the opposing gender on occasion.
I have had my shoulders squeezed, my back patted, my hair stroked and my arm held back entirely too many times to count.
At first, I thought to myself, "Wow, all this touching and feeling that goes on in the real world is really weird."
For some reason, I thought that it was normal that people would just touch each other for absolutely no reason.
Now, however, I feel very differently. I no longer see it as something new or even remotely adult.
All I see is a bunch of middle-aged men who are entirely too eager to cop a feel on a girl young enough to be their daughter!
I am fed up!
Day by day, it is becoming more difficult to cope with. I am becoming more and more confrontational. I am becoming more suspicious of men in general.
That makes me sad.
I am sure that when I finally meet someone whom I really like and who interests me, I will probably feel violated when he first attempts to touch me in the slightest way.
It should not be that way. What am I to do? I am certainly not an angry feminist type who thinks that every man is her enemy.
I like men. Some of my best friends happen to be men.
No one likes to feel like lion's prey. Perhaps nature may dictate it that way, but all the same, I'd like to think we could all coexist in a more civilized fashion.
I always feel outnumbered. Here are all these tall freaks with graying hair and yellow teeth storming my carefully guarded island of equilibrium.
There is no solace. There is no relief. There is only time to rest up for the next day of violation.
I find myself singing angrily along with wailing females, threatening dismemberment and reading militant literature.
I suppose there are worse things I could do. I could reach out and touch someone.
Mahmoudi, a junior French and German major, is now training in projectile urination. Send absorbent e-mail
at your own risk to amahmoud@bayou.uh.edu.