On Catcalls and Miami

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After weeks of disbelief, this afternoon I thought to myself, “Oh! Of course. Of course our country didn’t elect a woman as President.” 

Of course we didn’t. Because there are men in this country who can navigate a roundabout with their head completely stuck outside the window of the food service delivery truck they’re driving, face turned 90 degrees away from the road they should be watching, all to make disgusting, slurpy kiss noises at a 31 year old woman (Read: me) carrying a library book about the Holocaust and sporting a 3-days-since-last-washed top knot.

Of course.

The catcalling in Miami is pretty brutal. You’re probably not all that surprised by this. I can’t say I was either. But the salt on the wound is that it sucks ass to drive anywhere in this city. If two of my stops are a few blocks apart, I’ll often leave my car at one, brave the “pedestrians be damned” style of driving the cars all seem to follow here and walk to stop two. So, I put myself in the line of fire in more ways than one.

Vehicles will buzz past and narrowly avoid clipping my appendages in blatant disregard for red lights. I find myself wondering if I should look into the best ways to take a hit to my body from a car without dying.

Yes, this is maybe a little dramatic. But CAN I LIVE?! 

And the catcalls incite the same question. Just in a less bodily harm, ACTUAL life & death sense and more in a “Can I just get from the library to the pharmacy without anyone propositioning me? That would be such a welcome change of pace! Thanks y’all!” -sorta way.

Despite what’s detailed above, I don’t feel that unsafe walking the streets of Miami. Maybe it’s naivete. Or maybe I’ll always be someone who prefers travel by my own two feet.

(See: The summer of ’09 when my top money-saving scheme was to leave my gas tank on empty for the duration.)

Maybe I’m just willing to brave a lot to avoid jumping behind the wheel.

(See: Every traffic-heavy commute home when I fantasize about getting out of my car, setting it on fire, and walking the rest of the way.)

Walking will always make me happy. I won’t let a few crude assholes in Miami (Read: everywhere) take that away from me.

But. Of course. Of course we didn’t elect a woman as president.

P.S. I know, I know. This is about Miami and the picture above is clearly of NYC. Beggars who use free stock images can’t be choosers, ya know?

P.P.S. The Power of Self-Care and that time I stopped paying women compliments.

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