But even so, it’s a fairly fucked-up situation when women have to feel like they’re crossing a battle zone every time they move ten meters in Kollupitiya. ___ Consider our public education system, which basically involves thousands of boys cooped up with other boys for twenty years and suddenly let loose upon the world.
Personally, I’m about as far from politically correct as my friends can handle – I think being fat is ugly, I think paid maternity leave is stupid, and I will eat any vegan who denies me my chicken curry.
It’s an insolent, hostile, and yet strangely curious stare; a kind of stare that not just strips down the person on the receiving end, but also makes them feel like nothing more than a piece of meat in a dress and heels. Put it this way: if it was us guys in that situation, every single street in this would have at least a couple of fights breaking out across.
It is the look you would give when you could either eat someone or kill them, and not necessarily in that order. And while hardcore feminists will tell you that a woman can easily take on a man – I’ve met a few that could – most women aren’t going to put up a fight, especially in a skirt and heels.
___ Now while discussing this, this friend of mine who walked across the street pointed out an interesting little factoid: a couple of years ago, she’d modelled in a slum.
It was a very poor, very, very tiny community, and while she fully expected to be stared at like an exotic animal, she wasn’t. I’m no village boy, but I do have a dubious claim to that title – I live in a little village in the arse end of Ragama and partly hail from a place in Ratnapura where people give you concerned looks and make you tea if you ever make the mistake of speaking in English.