October 21st 2009

Eyelash Batting, Pursuit, Conquest, and Cognitive Dissonance

Big, big smile to the gas station attendant. I was ten years old, and it was summer. I was riding in the front seat of my grandfather’s camper, on my way to meet my mother and sister at the pool. I could detect a glint in the teenage boy’s eyes, and found myself tossing my hair and batting my eyelashes. At ten.

My stoic German grandfather looked over at me. He frowned. As we pulled out of the lot, he moved the van into a parking spot. “Katherine, I need to talk to you about something,” he said firmly.

I loved having the favor of this brilliant, eccentric, bellowing man. A German immigrant, a vegetarian at the age of 7, my Opa taught me the value of independent thinking and living in accordance with one’s own ideals. I could tell he was unhappy, and became silent and attentive.

He looked me square in the face. “Throughout the course of your life, you are going to be encouraged to participate in a whole host of behaviors. Some, you will be encouraged to participate in simply by virtue of being a young lady. You are an attractive girl and you will realize that you can use this to your advantage in life, to receive things or hold power with men. However, I am going to ask something of you right now. I am going to ask that you never be the kind of woman to abuse someone’s real and true interest in you, real and genuine feelings, for her own gain. I am going to ask now that you never exploit someone who has taken to you in that way, because I think you are a stronger, better person than that. You do not have to reciprocate those feelings EVER – never let anyone make you feel you do. But you can at least be respectful of someone having them as long as they are being respectful towards you.”

Fairly heavy for someone who hasn’t hit puberty yet.

I nodded. And I thought.

This moment would come back to me over years, in a host of ways. It would come back to me as I watched men and women string each other along, power struggle, bait and switch, mislead, and misrepresent. It was a heady feeling to be a teenage girl and notice the way adult men would stare at your body, appraising, appreciative – and at times scary and leering. It was terrifying to witness the nature of friendships with boys change, the nature of teasing change, of banter and rough-housing. Befriending a girl labeled a “slut” in high school afforded me the tag of one as well, years before I had ever even slept with a boy.

After a few experiences of being the sidekick to the popular girl at parties, in vans, at raves and behind the schoolyard, and after navigating my way (usually with humor and awkwardness) out of messy, scary situations, I began to get the message that attracting men was a form of power but also posed an undeniable threat. I failed to see this as the “well-intentioned” sort of admiration my grandfather had spoken of to me.

It becomes clear to most women and girls fairly quickly that to arouse desire also means to invite unwanted advance, comment, assessment and demarcation. The same guy who tells you how fine you are one moment can scream at you that you are a worthless cunt and a bitch when you ignore him the next. I have wanted to go back in time, and ask my Opa what he would think about a guy I met recently, who worked at a café I frequented. This guy had always been really friendly to me, and one day pulled me aside to tell me he had been interested in me for over a year. He asked me out to lunch. It seemed so genuine that I gave him my number – only to deal with a drunken call that night at 4 am asking what I was up to.

I don’t think that is the kind of attention my Opa had in mind.

Against this kind of a backdrop, is it any wonder girls and women struggle with feeling safe about being sexual?

Sex, love and attraction are richer and more powerful when experienced in unscripted ways, by complex, whole human beings – with their own share of assets, histories, and foibles. Humans find ways to appreciate some aspects of traditional gender roles that work for them but also challenge those that don’t. As a culture, we have everything to gain from being frank about this – and, as my Opa said, honoring genuine respect and admiration in one another, as depraved as the backdrop we are living against may be.

*****

Katy Otto is a social justice activist, writer and musician who grew up in the DC area. She works in nonprofit management and development.