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Oct. 23rd, 2006 02:27 pmJamaica is a country seeped in the culture of machismo and sex. Realizing that my ten-year-old neighbors are hitting on me is disconcerting, but I can cope. Hissing (the Jamaican version of a wolf-whistle) is omnipresent, as are soft calls of "hey sexy" or "nice whitey" or something of a similar ilk.
I'm a reasonably attractive person (eyes and nose in the right place and everything) but I never got attention like this in the States. I'm kind surprised by how much it bothers me- I wish my standard response could be: hello, I am not a hunk of meat here, and you're a little creepy- but the Jamaican women around me get the same attention and shrug it off, so I do my best to take my cue from them.
Plus, when viewed in context, it's really the least of my problems. Without even squinting too hard, I can see the compliment in "hey sexy." On the other hand, I am
completely at a loss as to how to deal with comments like "Do you like sex?"
Oh, how I wish I were joking.
A classic example of this gambit as a conversational opener happened last week when another volunteer and I were sitting in a taxi, waiting for it to fill up and take off. One of the first things you learn in Jamaica is to become a pro-active greeter. Men view your ignoring them as proof that you're interested and playing hard-to-get. It's much easier, then, to say "afternoon" every time you make eye contact- before they have a chance to say anything- than suffer the quasi-stalking that your supposed hard-to-get-ness invites.
So I accidentally make eye contact with this guy- heavy set, in his late thirties, wearing a dishcloth draped over his head, in what I'm assuming is some kind of local fashion statement/hat replacement/sweat mop. I politely say "Good afternoon" and he sticks his head in my window, and counters "Do you like sex?"
I snappily answer "not with you" and am mentally congratulating myself- Ha! To the point, nowhere THAT conversation can go, all relevant questions answered. (Amelia, the other volunteer, is cracking up in the front seat, because, really what else can you do?)
"Why not?" he asks. I wish I had said I was too classy to pick up guys though taxi windows, but I took the moral low ground and lied. I told him I already had a Jamaican man at home keeping me happy. This wasn't a deterrent.
"What kind of cock do you like? Big ones or slim ones?"
I am sure I responded to this somehow, but I honestly don't remember what I said. Whatever my answer was, it must have been sufficient, because he pulled his head out of my window, proceeded to the front window, and asked Amelia the same. exact. litany.
Amelia managed to turn him down too- and completely unperturbed he requested that the next time we came down, we bring him a white woman with "a nice ass and big titties." Right-O, random taxi man, I'll keep that in mind.
I'm a reasonably attractive person (eyes and nose in the right place and everything) but I never got attention like this in the States. I'm kind surprised by how much it bothers me- I wish my standard response could be: hello, I am not a hunk of meat here, and you're a little creepy- but the Jamaican women around me get the same attention and shrug it off, so I do my best to take my cue from them.
Plus, when viewed in context, it's really the least of my problems. Without even squinting too hard, I can see the compliment in "hey sexy." On the other hand, I am
completely at a loss as to how to deal with comments like "Do you like sex?"
Oh, how I wish I were joking.
A classic example of this gambit as a conversational opener happened last week when another volunteer and I were sitting in a taxi, waiting for it to fill up and take off. One of the first things you learn in Jamaica is to become a pro-active greeter. Men view your ignoring them as proof that you're interested and playing hard-to-get. It's much easier, then, to say "afternoon" every time you make eye contact- before they have a chance to say anything- than suffer the quasi-stalking that your supposed hard-to-get-ness invites.
So I accidentally make eye contact with this guy- heavy set, in his late thirties, wearing a dishcloth draped over his head, in what I'm assuming is some kind of local fashion statement/hat replacement/sweat mop. I politely say "Good afternoon" and he sticks his head in my window, and counters "Do you like sex?"
I snappily answer "not with you" and am mentally congratulating myself- Ha! To the point, nowhere THAT conversation can go, all relevant questions answered. (Amelia, the other volunteer, is cracking up in the front seat, because, really what else can you do?)
"Why not?" he asks. I wish I had said I was too classy to pick up guys though taxi windows, but I took the moral low ground and lied. I told him I already had a Jamaican man at home keeping me happy. This wasn't a deterrent.
"What kind of cock do you like? Big ones or slim ones?"
I am sure I responded to this somehow, but I honestly don't remember what I said. Whatever my answer was, it must have been sufficient, because he pulled his head out of my window, proceeded to the front window, and asked Amelia the same. exact. litany.
Amelia managed to turn him down too- and completely unperturbed he requested that the next time we came down, we bring him a white woman with "a nice ass and big titties." Right-O, random taxi man, I'll keep that in mind.
