I've been cat called before, I'm no stranger to it. Of course I've never enjoyed it, because it's degrading and senseless. Not to mention it usually happens when you're on a downer walk, is that just me?
To me it's always that I'm kinda ambling along and out of no where there's a drive by whistle, or a "hey baby!", or one of my old favorites, "damn, look at them legs!
Hey! Don't you know what a compliment is!?! Say Thank You!"
No sir I didn't realize that was a compliment. Thank you for educating me.
But that's typical. Here's what happened:
It's Wednesday, I'm ambling along (happily, actually), past a retirement center when I hear a car bumping some rap music.
Hey, I like rap music! I think to myself.
The car comes to a complete stop at a light on the corner I'm walking past. As I try to figure out the song that's playing, I suddenly hear a crackly voice shout from the back seat:
"YO, BITCH!"
I pause.
No... I heard that wrong...
Then I hear even louder:
"YO BIYATCH!!"
I turn, because this can't be right. Nothing warrants this.
The car, still idling, as I look in the back seat and a boy no more than 11 is flailing about in his, I suppose, version of "krumping."
The child gestured to a region, he probably only recently became acquainted with, and repeated his mantra:
"Yo Bitch! Yo Bitch! YO BIYATCH!"
I was rooted to the spot, mounting rage for the intent at the word and ignorance of this child. I looked to the front of the car, where two (I assume) parents were ignoring the heinous fetus whipping back in forth, a mere foot away from them.
I wanted to yell at them all spit profanities at them, show them the thousands of women cat-called across the streets, force them to watch the women brutually called "Bitch" and every thought that crosses their minds when that word is hurled so carelessly at them. I wanted them to feel every bit of shame their son (I assume) was hurling out of their Ford Sedan and straight at me.
Maybe it was because I was next to a senior center, but the only thing I could muscle out was:
"Youuuu WATCH YOUR MOUTH!"
The child giggled even harder, demonically retaliated:
"Yo! Bitch!"
"Watch your mouth!" I cried out again, directing it more at the parents (I assume) this time.
The light changed and the car took off as though nothing had occurred. No scene had just transpired, like they were continuing to go about their day possibly to a local park to play on the swings.
I have absolutely no idea what the hell that was, but I still maintain that I love rap. Despite the fact that this little brat took it as an excuse to act like that.
The child gestured to a region, he probably only recently became acquainted with, and repeated his mantra:
"Yo Bitch! Yo Bitch! YO BIYATCH!"
I was rooted to the spot, mounting rage for the intent at the word and ignorance of this child. I looked to the front of the car, where two (I assume) parents were ignoring the heinous fetus whipping back in forth, a mere foot away from them.
I wanted to yell at them all spit profanities at them, show them the thousands of women cat-called across the streets, force them to watch the women brutually called "Bitch" and every thought that crosses their minds when that word is hurled so carelessly at them. I wanted them to feel every bit of shame their son (I assume) was hurling out of their Ford Sedan and straight at me.
Maybe it was because I was next to a senior center, but the only thing I could muscle out was:
"Youuuu WATCH YOUR MOUTH!"
The child giggled even harder, demonically retaliated:
"Yo! Bitch!"
"Watch your mouth!" I cried out again, directing it more at the parents (I assume) this time.
The light changed and the car took off as though nothing had occurred. No scene had just transpired, like they were continuing to go about their day possibly to a local park to play on the swings.
I have absolutely no idea what the hell that was, but I still maintain that I love rap. Despite the fact that this little brat took it as an excuse to act like that.
