‘Rape for Grades’
Photo by Charlotte May on Pexels by Grace Anaja Rape for grades is a well-known phenomenon. It involves dangling academic grades in exchange for sexual favors. Even if one party – in this case, the students – consents to trade sexual favors for improved grades, the power dynamics between the school’s employee and the student means that one cannot consent without the niggling fear that their refusal may mean failure. Thus, it is considered rape. This is a condemnable act prevalent in many universities in Nigeria – public and private alike – and worldwide. It seems to happen more in public universities, I believe, because certain lecturers feel they are doing you a favor by teaching you, and as such, you should give them something in return: money, gifts, or worse, sex. Some ask subtly with the guise of offering help, friendship, or extra support. Others demand it and expect no questions asked. A study by United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) reveals this form of Sexual and Gender-Based Violence against female students could result in outcomes ranging from shame, loss of self-esteem, unwanted pregnancies, poor academic performance, and in some extreme cases, suicide. Since there is a lack of trust in the system, sexual harassment and rape cases in universities are not reported because victims are not believed. They fear negative consequences even from other lecturers or perpetrators who are not sanctioned. This begs the question: why do these lecturers demand sex from female students? It is safe to say that some of these men are married and have children, some of whom are peers of the female students they prey on. Why is it important for them to abuse the power they are given? I wonder… if their daughters came home with stories of being raped by a lecturer for grades, what would their response be? One very flimsy excuse given as a cause is that some female students dress ‘indecently’ on the campus and that men already struggle to control their sexual urges and so might not be able to resist going after these girls. Many tertiary institutions have dress codes that students abide by. Often male and female students are inspected at the gates and halls of residence for ‘improper’ dressing. Whether a student was wearing the long flowing abaya or a strapless cropped top and mini skirt, it does not give any man, staff, or student alike the right to harass or assault her. The problem is not with female students – what they wear, do, or say. The problem lies with perpetrators of sexual abuse, these male lecturers. After all, not all lecturers do it. So how do some uphold the ethics of their profession, and others disregard them? Another excuse is that female students who do not study hard become vulnerable to these lecturers. Doing well in assignments, tests, and exams and attending classes reduces one’s chances of being harassed. Yet, there are many cases of lecturers intimidating the ‘most intelligent’ female students. These randy men see these students as sex objects, nothing more. It is no wonder the release of the BBC Africa Eye documentary Sex for Grades in 2019 sparked a lot of response, protest, and action. Reporter Kiki Mordi and other journalists went undercover as students in Nigerian and Ghanaian universities to reveal the rate of sexual harassment by lecturers. Through their secret recordings over three months, they exposed professors and senior lecturers and caught them on camera grooming and seducing female students. Although it inspired national action by the Nigerian senate as it reintroduced legislation that would criminalize sexual advances by lecturers toward students and mandatory jail time for lecturers found guilty of sexual harassment, rape for grades is still on the rise in many universities. There are also cases of students deliberately setting up lecturers. I remember a life experience one of my lecturers told us that happened at a private university. Some students felt a particular male lecturer was too ‘wicked’ and harsh and decided to teach him a lesson as a class. Their plan involved having one of their mates, a lady, enter his office when no one was around, scream, and pretend to have been assaulted by him, with incriminating evidence alongside. Sadly, the plan worked, and the lecturer was reprimanded. When the truth came out, his reputation and career were destroyed. It was too late. As I remember this story, Kunle Afolayan’s Citation comes to mind, especially in the beginning part of the film, where a lecturer was set up by some students, and in the process of being exposed, he was killed and hit by an oncoming vehicle. However, this does not rule out the existence of willful sexual relationships between students and lecturers. There have been cases where lecturers married their students. But this is not what I am making reference to. I’m referring to female students offering sex willfully to male lecturers for grades and, interestingly, other things. Of course, some reject these advances, and others why universities should implement more policies to take advantage of them. Again, the problem is not with the profession but with the individual. As such, more policies should be implemented by universities to curb this global issue. Defaulting lecturers should be seen and severely dealt with as any other sex offender. No lecturer should be a ‘god’ in the institution. More safe spaces should be created for students and lecturers to report such incidents. Any form of harassment should be treated as what it is, an unlawful act. Universities are institutions of learning and development and, therefore, should remain so.
Addressing Workplace Harassment
Photo by August de Richelieu from Pexels For some reason, the thought of a colleague I used to have came into my head. And it was followed by such immense disgust that I had to take long, deep breaths to calm myself. He – of course it was a man – was the definition of classless. I want to call him ‘dumb dumb’ but I am learning to be nicer to people. So, I will settle with Mr. X. Mr. X believed that he could say whatever he wanted to me and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand where he got the nerve from. He annoyed me to no end and while it is sad, I was a bit glad when he was laid off. Okay. I know…you need context. Let me explain why he revulsed me so. I had started what was a really great opportunity to work and grow and I was excited to be able to contribute to areas of the global goals that tied directly to my personal mantra and life plans. Since I was new, I focused on learning the ropes of this new career path and navigating the office interaction and boundaries. For the most part, I was polite but relatively aloof in my engagement with many of my colleagues. With this background, you can imagine my demeanor when Mr. X came to my office to chit chat. I was cool as I answered his questions until he brought up a sexual innuendo. I can’t even remember what it was but my eyes bulged, ready to eviscerate him on the spot where he stood. But… I paused. Could he actually have said what I thought he said? Maybe I was reading meaning to things that just weren’t there. His statement could have been harmless for all I knew. So, I tittered and went back to my computer, hoping he would take it as the cue to leave me alone. He didn’t. Mr. X. continued to make suggestive statements that confirmed that my first instinct was right. At this point, I could feel the steam rising and I knew I was going to blowout. Thankfully, another colleague came in and the conversation changed, prompting him to leave my office. In my head, I thanked whatever God he worshipped. Mr. X. had saved himself from the caustic end of my tongue and I had saved myself from revealing that beneath my calm exterior, there was a volcano that didn’t need that kind of trigger. I had forgotten about Mr. X. for a while until we attended an event together. At lunch, another colleague came to me and raucously mentioned how I had gained weight. I laughed about it as I walked away from him. He continued to follow me, making remarks about my weight and laughing cluelessly. Mr. X. decided to join in the conversation. So, there I was, with two men following me as I picked food I wanted to eat, commenting on my weight and laughing. My tight smile did nothing for them. Neither did my silence. But by God, I was ready to explode when Mr. X. mentioned how the fat was going ‘into all the right places’. I stopped. What. The. Bloody. Hell?! I knew I was going to explode but again, I was at lunch with a bunch of colleagues, guests we were hosting and other development partners and stakeholders. So…I walked away. But I swore to myself that the next time Mr. X. tried me, I was going to check him faster than he could spell his own name. And because harassers would always stay true to character, it wasn’t long before an opportunity presented itself to me. Few weeks later, we had a human resource training where I shared my thoughts about badgering people to marry or give birth. I expressed why I thought it was harassment and why the practice should not be allowed. As the day wore on, sexual harassment was touched on and the human resource manager mentioned why it was important to call out sexual harassment without being contentious. Now, she wasn’t saying we should let it slide. She said we should firmly call it out for what it was without resorting to raised voices, physical altercations or worse. Her point was that, some people may not know that they were sexually harassing another person and the first option should always be to correct…except of course if the situation was dire. It was a learning session for me because my first instinct is always to fight. But in the workplace, fighting is not the way to go, especially if there is a possibility that the situation can be misconstrued. No sooner had we left the training center than Mr. X. followed me to my office. He said the way I spoke was ‘like one of those feminists’. I laughed and assured him that I was a feminist. He began to throw questions he thought would trip me and I kept responding with, ‘Oh! That is what they do? I didn’t know that.’ Though my responses were sarcastic, each question served to rile me up. Just when I wanted to mention an excuse to get him out of my office, he threw the grenade: ‘Is it true that feminists know exactly how to please a man? That they can give a man good sex?’ Santa. Maria! I knew I was within my rights to cuss him out and teach him a lesson he would never forget but I inhaled…and side stepped the bomb. I raised my head from my computer, looked him straight in his eyes, and said in as measured a tone as I could muster, ‘Mr. X. This is not an appropriate conversation for the workplace.’ You could tell that he was shocked, even though he tried to laugh it off. He continued to try
Flip The Switch
Image Credit: Men’s Health Edikan felt Ama turn in her sleep as she gained consciousness. He had listened to her troubled sleep – marked by her slight snoring – for the past hour; even though his back remained turned to her. Their fight last night had been the worst in the six months they had been dating. And for the first time since he moved into her apartment, they had slept on each end of the bed. Sleep? He barely had any. The gap between them as he pretended to sleep could have been a chasm for all he cared. How could she sleep after all that was said yesterday? The only sign that she was as hurt as he was were the sounds of her heavy breathing whilst she slept. Many times during the night, he wanted to turn to her and ask that they resolve their fight immediately. But he waited, knowing that morning would bring some form of clarity to her. And maybe, just maybe, all the things she hurled at him last night, all the… He stiffened as Ama turned into him, fitting her body into the curve of his spine and wrapping her leg around his. Her pointed nipples pressed into his back as her warm breath caressed his nape. He stiffened further when she began to trail her fingers down a path to his already throbbing penis. His breath caught in his throat when she wrapped her palm around him, tightening her grip a bit…enveloping him in an unspoken promise. She began to rub ever so gently from his tingling tip to its base, pausing to caress his balls before resuming the journey back up to his tip. ‘Babe…’ he began to utter whilst trying to remove her hand from him. He was surprised at the strength she used to turn him on his back. Her full breasts invited him to drink in their glorious beauty, just as they disappeared to show her spine arch all the way up to the mounds that were her butt cheeks. A moan escaped him when she replaced her palm with her mouth. ‘Babe…wait a minute…we need to t…’ he sucked in his breath as she took in most of his length all the way to her the back of her throat. If he didn’t stop her now, he wouldn’t be able to resist the yearning that was throbbing in his core right now. But he couldn’t continue to let her use sex to ignore their fights, or ‘apologize’ to him. They needed to talk. When she came up for air, Edikan put his palms over his penis and rolled away from her, mistakenly hitting her head on his way away from her. ‘What the fuck?!’ Ama exploded. He rushed back to her. ‘I am sorry. Are you hurt?’ he asked, holding her face and looking into her eyes. Her hands went back to his penis. ‘I will be fine when I have him in me.’ She responded, her voice husky with need. Edikan pulled away from her and got off the bed. ‘Babe, we have to talk.’ Ama followed him, running her hands slowly down her breast. ‘Yes. We need to talk…with your tongue speaking wonderfully thing to my clit as I respond in kind to your dick. Yes…we need to talk, with you taking me from behind, pounding…’ ‘Babe…’ ‘…hard into me, owning me. Yes, baby. Come talk to me.’ Edikan grabbed a pillow and put between them as she gained on him. ‘Babe, can we just talk about this? There were things said last night that…’ She tried to remove the pillow. He held on to it. She tried again. He remained adamant. Edikan watched the anger jump into her eyes as she took it all in. Her hands fell from the pillow and she took a step back. ‘Are. You. Rejecting. Me?’ The edge in her voice set him on edge. He took in a much-needed breath so he wouldn’t lash out. ‘Babe, I am not re-.’ ‘Because here I am…standing naked in front of you, basically throwing myself at you and begging you for sex and…what is this? You rejecting me? Goodness, are we there yet? Where you think…’ ‘I am not re-.’ ‘…you can reject me? I want to have sex a-.’ ‘And I don’t want to have sex, goddammit!’ Edikan watched her flinch at his raised voice. Again, he drew air into his heaving lungs. ‘I am sorry for raising my voice. But we cannot continue to do this dance where we have a fight and, rather than discuss the issue, you offer me sex.’ ‘I offer you sex? What the hell is that supposed to mean?!’ ‘Is it normal that the only time you initiate sex is when you know you have offended me? That we went through the whole of last week not being intimate because you rebuffed me every single time I so much as tried to kiss or cuddle you and now, you want to have sex? And right after we had the biggest fight in this relationship?’ ‘Oh, there I was thinking I was trying to solve the problem.’ She responded, increasing the space between them. Ama’s response irked Edikan. She knew exactly how much he hated sarcasm, especially when they were fighting. ‘You don’t solve a problem by having sex. You can’t say those hurtful words to me and think I would want to have sex. I am not someone you can just cower into submission because you suck me a little and ride me once in a while.’ ‘You didn’t seem to mind before.’ Ama muttered under her breath. ‘What was that?’ ‘Nothing!’ ‘Ama, are you deliberately trying to make this situation even worse than it already is?’, he asked, talking slowly as he struggled to control himself from another angry bust. ‘What do you expect me to think?!’ Ama plops onto the bed and pulls the duvet to cover herself.
Why Do Men So Easily Harass Women? (2)
Image: We Are The City As I washed my pile of clothes over the weekend, something that happened weeks ago came into my thoughts. I was on my way home from work when I realized I didn’t have enough cash for transportation for the rest of the week. I decided to go to the ATM. At this point, I was already bone tired and my heavy backpack was making me even more weary. When I was done withdrawing some cash, I looked in front of me and remembered that I could do with some groceries. There is a mart directly opposite the bank I use so I crossed the road and went into it. After maybe 10 or 15 minutes, I was done. Adding the grocery bags meant that my already sore body was even worse off. I just wanted to get to my house, shower and fall into bed. As soon as I got out of the mart, an Okada rider in front of the bank whistled loudly at me, beckoning me to come use his bike. Now, it is almost normal for Okada riders to whistle at their customers, even though many are replacing whistles with a ‘Going?’ or other variations of the question asking whether a person wanted their services. Back to the rider. By this time, there were two of us who wanted to cross the road to the other side; a man and me. The Okada rider kept whistling and even though it is almost customary, I was offended by it. It wasn’t just that he whistled, it was also how he did. There seemed to be a disrespect to how he did that was off-putting. But I was too tired to even care. The man and I crossed the road and we both went to stand a few feet from the Okada man and his bike; him to the left and me to the right. ‘You dey go?’ the Okada man asked me. I did not answer. ‘Come make we go now.’ Again, I did not answer. I noticed that though the man and I stood close to him, he continued to direct his conversation only to me. By this point, I hoped another Okada would show up quickly, so I could be on my way to my house. Almost like the Sky Spirits heard me, two Okada riders came towards us. The man and I stopped them and without waiting to discuss the price, the man hopped on one and was gone. I asked mine how much he would take me to my house. ‘N200.’ ‘N150.’ I countered. The rider agreed. I gave him my grocery bag to hold while I climbed the machine. It was as I was climbing that everything went south. The Okada rider who had been whistling – and whom I ignored – started to shout. ‘Why are you holding her bag? Give her the bag! She no wan pay better money. Give her the bag make she hold am.’ I was shocked at the vitriol. What was this man’s problem? My Okada rider and I ignored him. Again, he continued to shout. By this point, I was mad. Normal me would have shouted right back at him but I was tired. So I asked in my calmest voice, ‘How is this your business?’ My question seemed to irk him some more and he started raining insults on me. ‘Carry your wahala dey go oh! Nonsense. You no wan pay money dey give am you bag. Give her the bag jare!’ I told him to learn to mind his business and again wondered why he felt it was okay to shout at me for absolutely no reason. If I hadn’t been the one he was shouting at, especially knowing I had not said a word to him prior to asking how it was his business, I would have assumed that he had quarrelled with the person, especially as he kept shouting, ‘carry your wahala dey do. Nonsense.’ What was the wahala? Standing on the road and minding my business? Refusing to use his services? What?! By this time, I was settled on the bike and we were about to head off. You will not believe that this man raised his hand to as if to hit me. This time, I dropped all decorum and shouted. ‘Touch me and collect slap.’ The man started laughing as we zoomed past him. He had thought to rile me up and seeing me get angry seemed to make him happy. He continued to laugh in his loud tone until we were too far from him to hear him anymore. My natural instinct was to tell the rider carrying me to stop so I could really go into it with the man. While I would not have fought him, I would have ensured he got a good tongue lashing. I was livid at the harassment, especially because I didn’t do anything to warrant that behavior. Oh! I know that he was probably unhappy that I didn’t use his bike and when he kept speaking to me, I didn’t respond. But there were two of us who didn’t respond. Why did he think he could act a fool towards me? Why did he think he was entitled to my response? The answer is simple; I am a woman. I can bet my last cash that he would never have responded to the man in the manner which he responded to me if I had been the one to leave first. This harassment of women by men has become so commonplace in our communities that it has become an endemic. I have written and spoken about it one too many times and nothing seems to be happening. If anything, the number of times I get harassed have increased. I talked about how women do not fear getting robbed, as most robberies come with a side of rape. I have talked about why men so easily
Accomplices of Sexual Harassment
(Very) Angry WomanImage: iStock Photos On the morning of March 19, 2019, I shared one of my older posts asking why men so easily harass women. Between 5:03pm and 5:30pm of the very same day, I would get sexually harassed by a stink-breathed, uncultured excuse of a human being. But let me get back to 5:03pm. I was standing at my junction waiting for a taxi for my trip home from work. I had just looked at the time when a bus slid to a stop close to me and said it was going in my direction. It was one of these clean coaster buses that is usually used as official buses or by transport companies for interstate travels. I got into the bus and saw that it was almost full; I and the woman who entered right after me took up the remaining seats. I moved to the rear of the bus where there were three men and the only space available for me. I sat in between them, with two men on my right and one on my left. As soon as I sat down, the clod on my left said, ‘Fine girl, how are you?’ I responded with a ‘well done’, took out my ear piece, wore it and started listening to radio…but not before the idiot said, ‘I have been greeting you and you cannot answer.’ I repeated my ‘well done’ and again, he goes, ‘why can’t you answer when I am talking to you?’ Seeing that he was moving mad, I decided to ignore him and listen to my music. Thankfully, by this time, I already had my headphones affixed and Sage was regaling me with urban hits on the Urban 96 show. The man kept talking to me, but I ignored him. I started preparing a video for my social media platforms and when I was done, I realized that it was around 5:12pm and…the bus driver was asking for our fares. I took mine out and gave to the guy next to me on my right. I got back to my phone to check my Twitter timeline. Obviously, the stupid idiot on my left said something to me, which I didn’t hear. He then went on to tap me on my upper thigh to get my attention. I take out my earpiece. ‘Have you paid?’ he asked. ‘Yes.’ After which I wore my earpiece again. Then he started to rub my upper thigh and I moved away from him. He did again, and I moved even more. Now, normal me would have asked why he was touching me but I gave him the benefit of doubt because he seemed to be reaching for wallet. When he paid his fare and tried to touch me one more time, I give him a stink look and moved even further away from him; in the small space that was afforded me. Seeing my reaction, he started tapping my upper thigh, asking why he was talking to me and I wasn’t responding. At this point, he was becoming obscene and people were looking back to see what the ruckus was about. I took out my earpiece and said, ‘Can you let me be, please?!’, making sure to let the edge into my voice so he knew I wasn’t joking. The bloody fool then raised his voice and said, ‘What is the meaning of the fact that I am talking to you and you aren’t responding? Why aren’t you responding to me?’ To which I replied, ‘Must I talk to you?’and the disgusting excuse of a person lost his damn mind. ‘Who do you think you are that they cannot talk to you?! I am talking to you and you are busy pressing phone. Is it this phone that you are pressing that makes you think they cannot talk to you?! Is your phone bigger than mine?’ To which he proceeded to bring out his phone and show everyone who was looking. Let me not forget to mention that as he asked each of these questions, he punctuated them by poking me with his finger; again, on my upper thigh. By this point, I had already put my earpiece back on to shut him and his putrid breath from assaulting my senses but I had also reduced the volume of the radio. I was getting angrier by the second and I was about to bust. Even though I was tethering on the edge of going ham on him, I remained quiet, feigning an interest in my phone when my instinct was begging me to slap him and damn the consequences. ‘Even ajebo girls that grew up in VGC I dey talk to talk more of this one.’ This elicited laughter from some of the men who were on the bus. I raised my head from my phone and darted burning sulfur at them. The others looked away in what may have been unconcern or maybe, embarrassment. Oh! Did I forget to tell you that there were 9 men and 3 women (including me) in the back of the bus? This brings me to the reason that nearly tipped me over the edge! While I was mad at my harasser, I had already figured out that he was a classless, disgusting, uncultured, uncouth, and vile piece of shit. What had me swelling up were the well-dressed men on the bus who laughed instead of checking the blatant nincompoop for his stupidity; the ones who looked away instead of speaking up against his nasty behavior; the one who said, ‘You can tell she is a small girl. She just has body’ to my hearing because he assumed that I would not do (or say) anything to him; and the women who looked at me and turned away. They were, in my opinion, accomplices to my harassment; all of them! I realized that they repulsed me almost as much as the fool who had harassed me. And because this
Why Do Men So Easily Harass Women?
Men in Yaba Market (Nigeria) harassing a woman for demanding an end to street harassment.Credit: Market March Most women have been sexually harassed one way or the other. This could be in the market, at work, in schools or just walking down the street. Some women have come to expect it as part of their lives. Before I go on my rant – and this is going to be a rant – defining what it means to be sexually harassed is the first call of duty. 1. Sexual Harassment: Unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and or other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature that tends to create a hostile or offensive work environment Legal Dictionary, The Free Dictionary by Farlex Uninvited and unwelcome verbal or physical behavior of a sexual nature especially by a person in authority toward a subordinate (as an employee or student) Merriam Webster Dictionary 2. Street Harassment: Street harassment is a form of sexual harassment that consists of unwanted comments, gestures, honking, wolf-whistling, catcalling, exposure, following, persistent sexual advances, and touching by strangers in public areas such as streets, shopping malls, and public transportation. Wikipedia I have a couple of stories to back this up. I went to Sabo Market in Kaduna recently with my sister Enigbe. The walkways were packed full with people doing their shopping. As we passed by a man selling clothes, I felt someone pat my butt and grab my hand. ‘Baby…come to my shop now.’ I was so mad in danger of popping a vein. I didn’t care that I was in the market. I went ham and warned him to never touch me. The idiot removed his hand and went, ‘Who touch you? If I want touch person, na you I go touch?’ to which some of the men around guffawed. He went to further to say, ‘you no even happy say I touch you. As you dey like this, you no happy say I touch you.’ This elicited more laughter from his fellow market men. I kept ranting which seemed to make them even happier. The women on the other hand looked away. Not only did the man harass me and lie about it, he made a U-turn, admitted to doing it and tried to shame me for not basking in his repulsive and wanton behavior. It wasn’t until I got to the shop I wanted to go to that a woman said, ‘My sister, no mind them. Na so them dey do.’ That statement made me even angrier than I could have thought possible. In another instance, my friend Ruth and I were walking under the Ikeja Bridge to go do our hair. As we set out to cross the road, we were cut off by this bus which deliberately swerved towards us. We stood where we were and the bus slowed; almost to a crawl. The conductor was saying stuff in Yoruba – which I didn’t understand – but seemed bad enough that Ruth cussed him out. The laughter from the bus driver and conductor made me ask what was said. ‘The goat was talking about what he will do to me with his penis.’ Ruth retorted. I asked her why she had even bothered to answer them but then realized I was also playing the game of ‘unlooking’; like the women who didn’t say anything when I was being harassed. When I was in the university, we had this Chemistry Lecturer that was known for his randy behavior. Rumor had it that he chose specific types of women each semester; light skinned, dark skinned, Muslim, Christian, Tall, Short and the list goes on. What wasn’t a rumor was what I witnessed myself. We were writing examinations in 100L and he was invigilating. He would randomly walk about and touch girls inappropriately. I was sitting with my friends Grace and Hasiya when he came by us. Grace had warned us about his reputation and told us not squirm or risk becoming his victim. So when he touched Grace’s hair, she smiled and said ‘Well done, sir’. He came to me and touched my arm and I said, ‘Good morning, sir’. He moved away and touched Hasiya on her lower back and she squirmed and frowned. When he saw this happen, he laughed. Unfortunately, Hasiya’s phone was in her pocket and though switched off, the man reached in to her pockets, pulled it out and said he had caught Hasiya cheating in her exams. Knowing Ahmadu Bello University, that offence was punishable by expulsion or rustication at best. We went to beg him but he laughed at our faces. He said Hasiya should come and beg him alone or lose her phone. When Hasiya realized he hadn’t made a formal complaint, she left the phone with him and didn’t get it until after two semesters. That was just one of the harassments I witnessed with this man. While this may not classify as harassment per se, I still label it as such. Ever walked into a restaurant or hotel or event location where there are predominantly men and get stared the hell down from your very first step until you fall (thankfully) into your seat? I hear men say it is a compliment to stare at a woman like that because it shows she is hot. Ermm…NO! It isn’t a compliment unless a woman loves the attention. But even at that, it is wrong to just stare at someone when you can glance at them and look away. Staring is rude! I know even the most confident men would not appreciate been stared at if they walk into a room full of women. If a man can get uncomfortable, why do you think a woman wouldn’t? Recently on Twitter, women across Nigeria and Africa complained about the sexual harassment they have been subjected to in the office, at school, in the markets, at restaurants and just about every other place. The stories were horrifying and quite frankly, scary. It seems that where
For the Idiots That Catcall
How Women Are CatcalledPicture Credit: GURL Walking down the street is a chore for women; especially if there are men positioned anywhere on that street. Most ladies will tell you they have been catcalled one way or the other. Catcalling is one of the most annoying things uncultured men do to women that just set our teeth on edge. If you don’t know, ‘catcalling’ is; ‘…a loud whistle or a comment of a sexual nature made by a man to a passing woman.’ English Oxford Living Dictionaries The calls may be as simple as ‘see fine babe’ or as crude as ‘chai! See nyash’. The latter happened to me recently. I was crossing the road when this car sped up, making me break out in a run. When the car got close to me, the idiot of a driver slowed down and shouted, ‘see as your nyash dey bounce as you dey run.’ He laughed and drove away when I donned on my ratchet persona and cussed him out. What this driver did to me is pretty regular for many girls. Recently in fact, news outlets carried the story of a big breasted lady who was followed by lascivious and leering men in Computer Village, Lagos. She smiled in the pictures but you know she was doing so from a place of embarrassment and fear. The men however didn’t think they were doing anything wrong. They laughed and openly stared at her breasts and some idiots even went as far as trying to touch her. Many of these men do it be appreciative of a woman while others do it because they have the feeling of entitlement. They are taught that they can have any woman they want and women should be happy that they deigned to show us some appreciation. Either way, catcalling is fucking wrong! And before bigger idiots say this type of behavior only happens to women who are scantily dressed or who wear clinging clothes, let me shut them down quickly. On one Friday while I was in Lagos, I wore my custom Abaya – a long flowing dress mostly worn by Arab women – and tied my hair. I looked like a Muslim woman and assumed that few people will bother me, what with how women generally dress in Lagos. When I got to Ojuelegba, this agbero saw me and started following me. He kept saying, ‘Hausa girl, wetin you dey hide under that cloth? Come make I show you big prick.’ I was shocked beyond words but continued on my way. When I lost my cool was the moment the man put his hand on me. I flipped and went ham on him and rather than be chastised by the other men, even the ones who seemed educated, people patted his back and laughed at me. I was nearly moved to tears and my only escape was quickly taking a bike and getting the hell out of that place. People say only uneducated men catcall. Well…I disagree. Even very educated, uncultured men catcall. It is important to know that being educated does not instantly mean being cultured. For the English maybe but not for the African and on behalf of women everywhere, I am saying we are sick and tired of this vile and disgusting behavior! What the hell men?! Oh! There are some women who love it when guys catcall them because they feel it is a compliment but these women have to check themselves. Their self-worth must be in the gutters somewhere. The truth is that most men who catcall think that it will somehow lead to sex. Like I am going to take off my clothes and sleep with a complete idiot who sees me on the road and comments on the size of my butt. Dude, wake the hell up! Almost 99.99% of the time, a woman doesn’t respond favorably to catcalls. In fact Bustle’s ‘Do You Respond to Catcalling? 23 Women Reveal How They Reply To Street Harassment’ is a direct proof of this. So why do men think it is okay to continue doing so? This has to stop. And men have to help make it stop. Women have been complaining about this forever with very little respite so it is time to get men to join in on the complaint. If these men didn’t think that catcalling is wrong, why do they almost never do it when a woman is walking with a man? Or even when they do, it is probably because the man is smaller or far less threatening than they are. There are many times when we see a man so fine that we just want to say hello. But you never see us catcalling men, howling or whistling to show him our ‘appreciation’, do you? Whether men accept it or not, catcalling is sexual harassment and like all forms of sexual harassment, it is demeaning! Again, this has to fucking stop! This was an answer that was given to the question, ‘Does Catcalling Happen In East Asia and if so, Is It a Big Issue?’ on Quora. ‘It is extremely rare, if it ever happens. In East Asian countries, it is rude to display your sexuality so overtly. People are a lot more conservative there and public displays of affection are frowned upon. Catcalling is a very forward act and in East Asian countries, overt flirting is not really done in public, especially with strangers. People are expected to act properly and to be so loud, crude, and overtly sexual would be considered a flagrant violation of that. There is something very immodest about catcalling and that also violates the social norm of modesty in East Asian countries. If you choose to catcall, you will be seen as an oafish boor whose parents shamefully did not raise you properly. In South Korea, family background is emphasized and if you display such crudeness, that will be put into doubt, putting your prospects of marriage and employment at risk. You will not be popular at the very least.’
