Gordon Robinson | Kitty cat calling?

So, catcalling has become the latest man-woman interaction to come under today’s all-encompassing, ever-disapproving microscope.

I wonder how many women who so viscerally condemn the pervasive practice think about the self-revealing nature of their unquestioning acceptance of that label. Is it the call, or the callee, that’s like a cat? Men, especially those who engage in cruder forms of what they consider a sport, wouldn’t be caught dead referring to it as ‘catcalling’. Some might call it flirting; others, complimenting; most, just ‘nicing up’ a girl.

I can just see my last two female readers recoiling in disgust at my undiluted gall. How dare he? Who does he think he is? Just a man made by God to, inter alia, help with the procreation process and who might harbour among his gender some whose technical skills exceed their intellectual abilities to get the job done. But, of course, as a man in the #MeToo era, I understand that women can be continuously demeaning in their attitudes to, and descriptions of, my fellow man, but I (and my ilk) should walk (and talk) most circumspectly while waiting patiently for modern woman to say, “Come here, laddie. I choose you.”

So, catcalling, a phenomenon of man-woman interplay (usually at man’s initiative) from the dawn of time, is now the latest form of ‘sexual harassment’ that must be eliminated from the planet.

MANNER OF DELIVERY

I once wrote of a gross indecency experienced by the Old Ball and Chain as she was having her (gas) tank filled. As usual, I was locked up at home waiting on my daily bowl of gruel to be pushed under the door while she, dressed modestly in her standard jeans and sleeveless blouse, waited alone as a minibus pulled up to the pump’s other side. A conductor leaned out and shouted, “Gyal, yu p*m p*m fat!” [Watch for Gleaner censors to have a field day with that standard Jamaicanism because, unlike a word in the previous sentence, it doesn’t have an added ‘p’]. LOL!

Her reaction fascinated me. First, she didn’t respond to the ’ductor, whom she justifiably ignored. Her ire was directed at the gas station attendant. “I’ve been coming here for years. You KNOW me. How come you let that man disrespect me like that?”

You see, what’s euphemistically labelled ‘catcalling’ is disrespect, plain and simple. Where a compliment is intended, it’s the language used and manner of delivery that’s inappropriate. Ladies want to label it ‘sexual abuse’, but it’s nothing of the sort. Ladies try to pretend the way they dress shouldn’t matter, but it does. Ladies: #TimeCome. Time to acknowledge that ladies dress to impress. As do men. Ladies WANT to be complimented on how they look. Just not like THAT. Ladies want to attract attention from men, but some want the attention to come in a cultured way. Life isn’t like that.

Also, women flooding the airwaves and social media with catcalling horror stories could try wrapping their heads around the reality that, if the tactic didn’t work enough times to make it viable, men wouldn’t use it. Don’t believe me? Have a gander at ‘downtown’ women dancing to Gage’s Kitty Cat in the dancehall or their scantily clad ‘uptown’ sistren wining to Square One’s Kitty Cat at the annual carnival road march.

Give me a break!

The offensive way many Jamaican men compliment women on their appearance is a function of their education. Highly educated men are just as attracted as undereducated men but, by and large, don’t express their attraction offensively. The problem won’t be solved by ‘all-men-are-trash’ talk or #MeToo or #TimeCome gender terrorism.

Until Jamaica accepts its duty to educate EVERY CHILD from basic school to university; introduces policies making teachers the most highly qualified and paid public servants by 2050; until we teach civics, civility and parenting to grade 11, women can bawl all they like. ‘Catcalling’ shall remain.

Peace and love.

Gordon Robinson is an attorney-at-law. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.