Facing Exhaust, Facing Piropos

wrote this last night:

Did I tell you about all the bad luck I’ve had with bicycles in this country? I suppose it could have been worse, but it was enough to keep me off a bike for most of the time I’ve been here so far. Anyway, finally have the keys to the chain to lock up the cute but POS bike, and after a $5 repair job to the gears and rear wheel, I’m back on two wheels at last.

Oh, and how I needed that, let me tell you. I still can’t fit in my pants and maintain a gut you wouldn’t believe (everyone in my life probably thinks I’m pregnant), but I can blame the monstrous thighs on the bulging muscles I’m gaining back (oh wait, biking doesn’t help with that). Actually, I saved the muscles from atrophy, but I’m a bit unclear as to the health of my poor lungs.

Remember how excited I was when someone told me the pollution would clear up in the spring with the so-called magical winds coming in over the cordillera from the ocean? Well, I could punch that liar, because I got all worked up for nothing. Some days, I might as well sit on my ass in front of the TV smoking a pack of Belmont Lights instead of huff and puff behind the exhaust pipes I trail all afternoon on my bike. Today, the air was so bad that I got a sore throat before I even left the house. Yes, I’m a delicate flower.

Do you know how they deal with bad air quality days? They pick a number from a lottery, and if your license plate ends in that number and you don’t have a catalytic converter, you can’t drive! Kind of like the California rules for water conservation. But come on, like they couldn’t come at the auto industry with that, or the corrupt micro fat-cats?

When I first started riding a lot in Oakland and Berkeley, I used to get all bent out of shape by all the random unpredictable, murderous car drivers I swear were in conspiracy to get me. A little bit of experience helped me get over that, and now I ride like a micro, as they say.

But here’s something I can’t get out of my mind, whether I’m on the bike or walking on the street: what the hell do guys get out of “diciendo piropos,” or hollering catcalls, making kissy noises, leering, etc?

I mean that as an honest question, because I know there are all kinds of sociological and historical reasons (I could always go off about 17 years of dictatorship and the complete objectification and exploitation of women), but I just don’t get it. When has that ever helped a guy get some? OK, fine, so women walking by know that their beauty is “recognized” (“m’ijita rica,” “linda preciosa,” “lola bonita”), but then what? What would happen if a guy actually said that to a woman’s face, for instance, as opposed to projecting from a truck window, say, or a bicycle, or the stoop of a building, or the ubiquitous construction site? It’s just so weird in that it obviously doesn’t serve that purpose at all: it seems to only serve to set women apart as sexual beings.

Oh, look at me geek out again. Here’s what I really meant to say, intellect aside:

I AM SICK OF BEING SEXUALLY HARASSED!

Remember that ad campaign: “That’s sexual harassment, and I don’t have to take it!”? (Why does that always remind me of: “I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up!”?) I wonder what it would take to have something like that in Chile? Damn, consciousness about sexism is soooooo far behind in this country—compared to what, I don’t know—but what matters is that it shouldn’t be like that anywhere.

So I’m averaging about 7 instances a day on my typical rides from home to class (about 35-40 minutes) and back. It’s creepy but almost innocent though: Chileans are shy—they would probably faint if a woman confronted them. (So I rehearse for the time I’m brave enough and fed up enough: “Oye, ¡huevón! No soy perro ni gato; podría ser tu hermana o hija o madre. ¡Cállate! Soy mujer: dame respeto, ¡huevón!”)

But it’s weird what it does to women. Other gringas I know have gotten used to the attention, and I’ve heard them lament the days when they don’t get it (“I feel ugly!”). You know—I kind of understand. Because overall, that’s about the only type of attention there is, and we internalize it. It’s not so bad in my classes, because I have a lot of really smart and assertive women classmates, and they generally get as much respect and talk-time as the guys, but outside of the academic atmosphere, it’s a whole different game.

I don’t know—everybody talks about “machismo” in the culture, and you see it everywhere. The state hardly trusts women with anything—you know divorce was illegal until this year, and the first divorces have yet to be processed through the legal system. And then there’s the illegality of abortion and the thousands of women who die each year from unsafe back-alley procedures. Then there’s politics and the workplace. Do you know that the first ever legal case involving sexual harassment in the workplace is taking place here right now? Because a woman was fed up with being interrupted in meetings and asked to bring the guys coffee!

Then there’s the good news: the presidential elections are coming up next year, and two of the main candidates are women: one from the Partido Socialista (current Defense Minister under Ricardo Lagos and the Concertación government [the united forces on “left”]) and the other from the Partido Demócrata Cristiano. Since they’re up against a “strong” right-wing candidate—current mayor of Santiago, Lavín—and Pinochet sympathizer, some folks think it’s a bad idea to take the risk of having women candidates. I’m really anxious to see what happens: it’s been interesting so far, watching how the press treats their campaigns (for instance, how much more interested they are in talking about their personal lives than issues) and how people talk about it. It would go a long way for Chile to have strong women leading the country. Even if they further the same capitalist pro-globalization policies as the men! I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, but it gives hope to women that they can be taken seriously.

And why are we so far away from having a woman president in our so advanced society? Or at least a woman whose campaign isn’t a two-month joke?

OK, OK Mom, I’m leaving politics.

So I finally had my presentation in my lit class, and I have never been more proud of myself. I actually led the seminar for two days (yes, that totals 3 hours of me talking in Spanish, and they actually understood me), since I had so much to say and I was able to get everyone talking. It was so fun: I had people read parts of the play (Eliot’s The Family Reunion) (partly to avoid the embarrassment of my attempts in Spanish), and then the people who had actually read the play (shamefully few) had all these good ideas, and we even read from The Four Quartets, to give it that full seminar feel. Anyway, that’s probably the highlight of my academic career, though I still have to write a 20 page paper (longer than what I wrote for my senior seminar at Cal), so maybe that’ll be even more exciting.

And so another week has passed, and I am exhausted. I’m dying to get out of Santiago and am hoping to visit a local national park or the Cajon del Maipo (Maipo River Canyon) nearby. Probably more theater this weekend and hopefully some live Chilean music (Los Jaivas—you know them?).

Oh, and since I can’t go once without mentioning food: the real highlight of the weekend is the CHICKEN I am going to prepare. That’s right. I finally went into the little organic store right by my facultad and bought a freakin organic chicken, which I will be picking up on Saturday. I can hear it crying right now as they chop off its head for me…

But oh, it will be so good. That is, if a vegetarian can prepare a chicken. It’s been awhile. And we’ll see if I do it again. (And you know chicken is the chain-link meat: I’ll be on to steak before you know it. Not.)