Sexual Harassment is We Kolcha

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]’m a “home girl” whatever that means. That’s what I’ve been called since my time at primary school. To this day I still get hit with: “You living in Gros Islet and I never see you!” There are several reasons for my apparent reclusiveness, one of them being I didn’t want stupid boys to trouble me. Over the past few years I have noticed that the regular catcalls have taken on a more conducive tone. I get friendlier comments, good wishes, even blessings for the day. I have wondered what’s responsible for the change. Could it be that I now go out at the same time that well-mannered people are about? Do I now attract less immature attention? I have considered the possibility that Saint Lucians have become classier, more civilized, what with all the stuff on social media about campaigns such as #MeToo.   

I was brought back to reality this week when a man, possibly a little younger than I, his face weirdly twisted, addressed me in the street: “I like it. You a nice height for a back shot.” The other man with him smiled as if in enthusiastic agreement. As rude as was that young man, he did not begin to compare with what an animal, that walked like a man, tossed at me the other morning: “Shabine, your skin so nice. Your pussy must be nice same way. Come for me to lick it!” The chorus of other drinking males around him exploded with sickening laughter. Some even clapped their hands deliriously.

The last mentioned two experiences underscored for me the serious problem in this country, of men with little respect for themselves, let alone women. Their disgusting behaviour is considered quite normal, at any rate a normal part of life in Saint Lucia. The twinge of anxiety that a female feels before walking through a herd of predatory testosterone on the block, some would argue, is all part of our culture. Sadly many women actually encourage the verbal assaults. They feel flattered. I’ve also considered the possibility that it makes young men feel, er, presidential, to address women in the street as they do. Hopefully it never extends to grabbing them “by the pussy!”   

Making matters worse is that I was too scared of what might follow if I told those two insulting men where to get off.  Would I be physically attacked? Grabbed? Abducted and raped? I was unaccompanied in both instances when the catcallers were encouraged by their male companions. It’s no wonder some women seem to enjoy the calls. Perhaps it’s their defence mechanism, to smile and quickly move on.

When the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements exploded in world news, I initially thought: “Why did these women choose to speak up only now?” It took me some time to notice that I had actually lived through the answer multiple times. If I had spoken up sooner, rather than later, I would I have been immediately shot down with: “Keep quiet, that’s our culture. You can’t take these men seriously; that’s just how they are.”

I note the #MeToo women first came together before they famously retaliated. Will we Saint Lucian women ever think enough of ourselves to unite in our own interests—in particular, against sexual harassment? I’m holding my breath. Will we come to realize that taking this stand will also be striking a blow against sexual and other abuses of children?

The Director of Human Services, Elizabeth Lewis, once revealed to me that the majority of child sexual abuse cases occur in the home, committed by men in the family. She also said that many victims’ parents withdraw their co-operation in cases of sexual crimes, before they reach the courts, which leaves Human Services hogtied.