#Sense8 #Nairobi #NoSpoilers

To start with, I loved, loved, LOVED this show. I watched it all in one sitting, and as soon as I was done, I wanted to start all over again. Except I couldn’t because, you know, sleep. Secondly, I’m not going to talk about the content, the gorgeous soundtrack, or the visual beauty of the show, because a million other reviewers have done it so much better.

I will say if you liked Heroes, you’ll probably like Sense8. Its that kind of a show. And I mistakenly thought Mohinder was in it, but it turns out it was Naveen Andrews, another former crush who is equally yummy, though he doesn’t look as good here as he did in Lost. It’s probably the (lack of a) circle beard. I like circle beards.

Well I suppose I should at least include a summary in case you haven’t heard of the show. It’s about a group of 8 people with a telepathic connection that lets them share each others thoughts, feelings, and experiences (yes, that includes sexual ones).

They can also share talents as needed. For example, they can tap into each other’s fighting ability, knowledge of weapons, driving skills, or even certain attributes like not-giving-a-fuckery, or not-showing-emotion-ism.

sense8_capheus_sun

The eight people are called a sensate cluster (spelled Sense8) and there are clusters all over the world. Which of course means there are (government?) forces hunting down the clusters, because on TV, that’s what nefarious (government?) agencies do.

In this way, the show is similar to X-men or Heroes because of that us-vs-them mentality, and the whole, ‘we either have to weaponise them or exterminate them, preferably both.’ That thread always runs through this kind of show. I don’t know if it’s a true reflection of society a self-fulfilled TV trope prophecy.

One thing this show is not short on: eye-candy. Exhibit A: Aml Ameen. That is one beautiful man. I found his Wiki page, which hinted at his origins, implying he might have a London accent. Which led to more googling so I could hear it. It’s beautiful.

Aml plays Capheus, a matatu driver that lives in Kibera with his mum. From his interviews, I know Aml is pretty good with accents. His American and Jamaican ones are spot on. His Kenyan accent, however, sounded a lot more West African, which was really annoying, and which is why I googled him in the first place.

Let me just step back for a second here, and say it was vaguely irritating to hear ‘street thugs’ and ‘Kibera residents’ speaking exclusively in English. Yes, most Kenyans speak English, and no, it’s not classist to imply that people in Kibera are more likely to be speaking Sheng’ at any given time. Kenyan English sounds nothing like Capheus or the other Kenyan characters on the show. And yes, that includes the Kenyan cast members and extras. Their ‘Kenyan’ accents were equally strange.

I get that it was necessary for everyone to speak English. I get that subtitles would have broken then flow. I even get that they had to exaggerate the accents to create the effect of English being their second language. They probably overdid the German, Icelandic, Indian, and Korean accents as well. That didn’t make it any less annoying to listen to. You know why? Because nobody in Kenya talks like that! 

They could have had the characters talk in English without making them sound like robotic Siri translations. Of course the problem might be more about the dialougue than the accents. The flow of words didn’t sound right. And not just with Capheus. Sun, Wolfgang, Felix, Riley – their dialogue felt stilted as well.

Again, that could have been deliberate on the part of the directors, to make it sound like English really IS a foreign language to them. Or to show that the translations were taking place in their heads, that they were each speaking their native tongues and could only understand each other because they are sensate. Kind of like the echoing effect on international mobile phone calls, metaphorically speaking.

Sense8

There’s even a point where Capheus asks Sun how they can understand each other when she’s clearly speaking Korean and he’s speaking Swahili. Or the scene where Will speaks Korean and Wolfgang speaks Gujarati (?). So maybe the bad dialogue was an intentional stylistic device. It was still annoying to listen to though, and I’d have preferred to hear more natural use of language, accents notwithstanding.

In terms of the characters, I’ve already said I don’t like Capheus. He’s too – and I really hate this term – two-dimensonal. I feel like he’s supposed to be the token hobbit, the ‘life is good, enjoy its pleasures, don’t-worry-be-happy’ representative. He’s always smiling, painfully positive, fascinated by everything, like a sanguine kid in a grown up world. I suppose it’s meant to be refreshing, to remind us to re-embrace our childhood view of the world, but to me, it just feels fake.

I get that that’s what he’s supposed to be, this small town kid who’s never been on a plane or tasted English tea, but it felt overdone, and frankly, annoying. Looking at it that way, Riley was equally awed by visiting Chicago and Kibera and India, but her reactions weren’t as caricatured as Capheus. Capheus’ portrayal was a little too hippie-dippie for my liking.

The subtle nod to Nairobi Half Life was funny though, because it was used so ironically, and was so slight you’d probably miss it. FYI, Half Life and the Nairobi and Berlin scenes Sense8? Same director. Tom Twyker.

Capheus

One thing I did like about Capheus’ portrayal was how easily he took to being a sensate. It didn’t bother him at all that he had 8 voices in his head and that their spirits were imbuing him with skills. I felt that part of him had echoes of reality.

A lot of Africans are spiritually inclined, as much as we may not admit it. Culturally, we’ve seen, heard, or experienced enough stories about genies and spirits and demons and ancestors that (positive) possession isn’t so far-fetched. That said, if I suddenly started seeing visions and having my body-snatched for travel, sex, and violence, I may not be quite as accepting as Capheus.

I also like that as child-like and simplistic as Capheus nature is, it’s infectious. I couldn’t help smiling during his scenes, and no, it’s not just because the boy is hot. SO hot. Yes, I know that I’m objectifying him and applying double standards and probably shaming feminists everywhere, but LORD, the boy is HOT!!

As for the other characters, Will is my favourite. He seemed the most natural in his role, the most realistically portrayed. Or maybe they just gave him the best lines. Nomi and Amanita are awesome, I love their rapport.

I like that the show has them in natural everyday situations – except, of course, for the running-for-their-lives part. Too much of TV focuses on gays and transgender people as – you know, – gays and transgender people. This show focussed on them as just people. They both have lives, thoughts, feelings, experiences, life-views. And oh, by the way, they’re LGBT.

TV STILL -- DO NOT PURGE -- Freema Andrews and Jamie Clayton in a scene from Netflix's "Sense8." Photo credit: Merie Weismiller Wallace/Netflix.
TV STILL — DO NOT PURGE — Freema Andrews and Jamie Clayton in a scene from Netflix’s “Sense8.” Photo credit: Merie Weismiller Wallace/Netflix.

I recently watched Looking and Queer as Folk, and that’s a whole different discussion. But I remember thinking that yes, being LGBT does affect how you live, and how you see life. That said, my daughter asked me what I was watching, I said it was a show about gay people.

I would never say I was watching a show about black people, or white people, or even green people because that wouldn’t be enough of a descriptor. It would have to be about ‘white people in the army’ or ‘black people in a band’ or ‘green people in a dance competition.’ So why is it that shows about gay people are just that?

I like that Sense8 has a strong LGBT quotient, but while it does address key LGBT issues like pride and closetting, it also shows these gay people as just people living their lives. Because they are, and the more we see them that way, the more we’ll treat them as ordinary, everyday humans, with as much right to life, love, happiness, privacy, and citizenry as anybody else.

Still on that note, as a loud-mouthed straight woman, there are tons of questions I would like to ask gay people, and transgender people too. Except I recently watched this video that showed just how rude and disrespectful those questions are. After all, you’d never ask a (straight) stranger any of those things. And yet we’re all curious.

Lito and Nomi
Photo credit: http://www.seat42f.com/sense8-season-1-promo-photos.html

Does that mean it’s okay to wonder, as long as you’re sensible enough not to ask? After all, in an ideal world, those are private matters that are none of anyone’s business. Plus, some situations are pretty clear cut. You never ask a straight person when they decided to be straight, or cis-person when they discovered they were cis. Those questions are more about ignorance and insensitivity than anything else.

And yet … you never ask a straight person how they have sex or which bathroom they use, because it ‘seems’ pretty obvious. And so you can’t help wondering how gays or trans people do it. As a kid, it was the first question I asked my mum when I found out some people are attracted to people of the same gender.

I like that the show addressed some of those issues without making it a big political thing. Rather than being didactic or soap-boxy, the situations were moving, hilarious, and human, sometimes all three. They subtly overturned stereotypes, showing pertinent matters in a light, effective, almost subliminal way. It was touching, and it was beautiful.

Nomi
Photo credit: http://www.seat42f.com/sense8-season-1-promo-photos.html

Last weekend, I marathoned through Looking and Queer as Folk, so Lito and Hernando didn’t shock me as much as they might have in the past. I liked that they didn’t, because it reflects a beautiful mind-shift in me. But more than that, I like that Nomi and Amanita got so much screen time. There seem to be a lot more shows depicting homosexual men than lesbians, and this spotlight definitely catered to the feminist in me.

Speaking of Lito, he’s a Mexican soap actor. At first I thought his character choice was lame. I mean, what could he possibly contribute to his cluster? And yet maybe that was the point. We have ‘pivotal’ characters like a cop, a hacker, a business mogul ninja. But we also have a thief, a bus driver, and yes, an actor. I wonder if people in Mexico, India, Seoul, or Berlin were as peeved with those accents as I am by Capheus and the other Kenyan characters.

Kala didn’t seem like much at first. She seemed – again – a stereotype. An educated Indian girl whose parents just want her to get married. She kept saying, ‘I went to University, I went to University’ and I know that was the point to the story, to bring out the injustice of it. But it wasn’t very subtle, and it got annoying pretty quickly. I think there are other ways to say a girl has a degree than to have her constantly reminding people that she has a degree.

Lito and Sun

Let’s talk about the love stories. Three cluster members have beautiful relationships outside the sensate, and while one character says love within a cluster is breathtaking and pure, another character says it’s evil and dangerous. Either way, to have eight linked people and more than one coupling is a tad overkill. It’s like the assumption that everyone in co-ed housing is constantly shagging everyone else. That said, I love the dynamic, and I’m curious to see where this thing might be going.

Another dynamic that I like is the polarity. We have a cluster with a cop and a thief, an atheist and a theist, a conservative Asian and liberal San Franciscans. I wondered pretty early on whether any moral questions would arise, like whether the cop would help the thief to steal, or how one part of the cluster might judge the ‘less desirable.’

Before I watched the show, I saw articles about how that was the whole point of the show, about how clusters were connected by their personalities rather than their locations or their beliefs. Their link isn’t about Kala’s religion or Wolfgang’s code or Nomi’s gender or Lito’s sexual orientation. They are linked by their cores, their innermost selves. They’re fused by who they really are.

Capheus and Riley
Photo credit: http://www.seat42f.com/sense8-season-1-promo-photos.html

They feel each other’s feelings, experience each other’s lives. So when they step into the body of another, it’s not just content, it’s context. It’s not just fear of being arrested – it’s fear of failing. It’s not just sex with men or women, it’s making love. It’s not just killing, it’s survival. They don’t just witness each other’s distress – they absorb it as their own, understand their motivations, and react accordingly.

This comes out beautifully in their interactions. When they need comfort, they visit Riley or Kala. When they need cheering up, they visit Capheus. When they need direction, they visit Will. They are instinctively drawn to whichever cluster-mate can give them what they require at that point, and it’s all credibly foreshadowed.

And they are united in how they see the world. For example, they would all sacrifice everything for family – jail time, stigma, even their lives. And family here isn’t just blood relatives. It’s Nomi and Amanita, it’s Wolfgang and Felix. They are all the kind of person that puts others before themselves. They each have a pathological empathy – not just for each other as a cluster – but for the world in general.

Kala and Wolfgang
Photo credit: http://www.seat42f.com/sense8-season-1-promo-photos.html

Of course, while some characters wear this ‘world-love’ like a badge, others hide their empathy a few layers deep. Sun, Lito, and Wolfgang come to mind. But the more you watch the series, the clearer their solidarity becomes. I like the way the show sneaks in beautiful pieces of philosophy without making them sound preachy or sermon-orial. Like Nomi’s vlog about Pride, or Capheus explaining why so many people in bad neighbourhoods have massive TVs.

Incidentally, that’s one of my favourite scenes, when Kala visits Capheus in his house, and he stares at her and says, ‘You’re beautiful!’ Because she is ridiculously pretty, and in an age where we castigate beauty, it was refreshing to hear Capheus express it in such a pure, innocent, non-pervy way. No cheesy come-on, no underlying sexual tension, no subversion whatsoever, it was just him telling her she was beautiful and I was like, ‘Hell yeah! It’s about time somebody noticed!’

As a woman, there’s a certain polarity to my existence. I’m a feminist who wants equal rights opportunities, and who wants to be seen as more than my vagina; an intelligent being that wants to be recognised for my thoughts and feelings, not just my outward appearance. But I’m also a girl living in a world of impossible beauty standards. The prescribed feminist approach is to kick beauty out of the window, change the rules, burn my bras, shave my head, fight against anything ‘feminine’.

Kala

Still … there’s a part of me that just wants to feel pretty, maybe because another part of me has never quite admitted that I am. So in that world, it felt good to have a nice, calm, non-political moment when we could all just look at the pretty girl and say, ‘Oh my God, you’re gorgeous!’ Yes, the rest of the show elaborates her brains and her skills and her compassion, but I love that Sense8 said it was okay for her to also be pretty. And I know I’m not supposed to, but I really like Rajan.

I watched the whole series in a binge, and it sucks that I have to wait a whole year to watch another season. I don’t know if there will even be another season, because the story is complete in itself. I like that about it. I like that even if they don’t renew it, I was left with a satisfying ending. I hate when seasons close with cliffhangers.

Also, it’s already established that the key to world peace is for everyone to get into other people’s heads, but there’s only so many ways that can play out without it getting boring and repetitive. Case in point. I love Sun. She’s badass in the best possible way. And I like that she has emotions even though they don’t show.

The stereotype of stoic and/or robotic Asians has always puzzled me, so it was nice to see the feelings beneath her resting-bitch-face. But by the third time she body-shared her cluster-mates out of a fight, I was yawning.

Will and Sun

And there were a few scenes and even entire episodes with too much talking and not enough doing. I wish they had paced the story evenly rather than toggling extreme action with tedium. When it comes to TV, I’m a show-me-don’t-tell-me kind of girl. Telling is for books. That said, as Un-PC as it is for a feminist mother to say, those birthing scenes were total overkill.

There’s still plenty of scope in terms of storyline, especially with Sun and Wolfgang. They haven’t been developed much, I’d love to see where they will go. We could be introduced to other clusters, maybe a new one every season in a spin-off-y Black Mirror style with no direct correlation. Or we could just delve into unveiling the grand conspiracy (BPO and etc.)

Also, Sense8 doesn’t really feel like a ‘mass’ show. It seems like the kind of series that will gain a rabid cult following while the rest of the world wonders what we’re on about. Early commentaries complained about the apparent lack of plot and their difficulty in following what was happening. I suppose I had read enough about the show before I watched it, and that made it easy for me to follow, but the average joe might find this type of storytelling a tad mind-boggling.

Photo credit: http://www.seat42f.com/sense8-season-1-promo-photos.html

Sense8 is a mentally stimulating show, and not everyone wants to think while they’re watching tv. A lot of people prefer the passive, couch-potato mode of viewing. They don’t want to have to work to understand the show, and Sense8 definitely makes you work for it. That’s probably why I like it so much. That and all the deeper layers of reasoning it clearly evokes.

I’m generally fussy about my shows, and the people that know me have stopped recommending stuff because I never like what they like. I bumped into Sense8 on Facebook, and I’m really glad I did, because all my criticism aside, I loved this show and I refuse to delete it. I’ll probably binge on it fifteen more times before the next season comes out, and I hope it does, because I could use a whole lot more sensating.

♫ What’s up ♫ 4 Non Blondes ♫

Coming out of the closet

No, not that closet *cheeky grin*

I’m going through certain … changes … which makes me sound like a 33-year-old adolescent. And I suppose in some ways, I am. These … changes … are perfectly normal in a woman my age. In fact, once I tell you what they are, you’ll roll your eyes and wonder what the big deal is. You see … I want to start wearing dresses.

I’ve had this impulse before, and have had three failed makeovers. Failed because they each lasted two weeks. Then I was back in jeans, hoodies, and sneakers. And so, once again, I’m thinking of playing a little with my feminine side, adding some skirts and dresses to my repertoire. I’ll probably wear them with sneakers, but hey, I have to start somewhere.

So I logged on to all-knowing Google and highlighted designs that I like. I printed them out and took them to the fundi. My daughter and my best friend bumped into the photos – which I had (not) conveniently left on the sofa. They both burst out laughing and took bets on how long this phase would last. Well okay, they didn’t take bets exactly. But they’re pretty dubious.

In fairness, I don’t know why I think this dressy trip is different. It could just be another case of hormones, like the one that made me shave my dreads and try the natural look. For a month. I’m back in purple dreads now, thank you very much.

And I don’t want to to explain why I’m suddenly into dresses. My baby thinks it was someone else’s idea, and has offered to beat them up for me if complying makes me uncomfortable. I think it’s because I’m battling femininity even as I try to define it, and so it seems logical to – you know – try on a few dresses.

I know people who are like, “It’s about time you started dressing like a grown-up.” Yes, in those exact words, which have been said repeatedly since I was 24. Others will throw my words back at me, “I work in an office where I’m allowed to wear jeans and hoodies. Why would I wear anything else?”

Some smartass might even pull up quotes from right here on this blog, quotes about being true to the rebel inside me, and finally conforming to the standards of the world by dressing ‘age-appropriately.’ There’s a loudly whiny voice inside that says this very thing every day.

And then there’s the people that will claim it’s a new man, or the search for a new man, or just me being my sensationalist self, taking something perfectly ordinary and making it sound like a purple braided unicorn. I’m sure a bunch of people will stop me on the street, in the office, even at family functions. They will ask what my latest phase is all about. And I will refuse to respond. Or maybe I’ll install a pony app on my phone, and it can neigh my reply.

Purple braided unicorn

So … if I don’t want to answer the question IRL, why am I answering it here? And what does any of this have to do with closets? I’m not sure. But listening to Ash’s TED talk touched me. In case you didn’t watch the video or click on the link, she discusses how hard it is to come out of any closet, even if it’s not a gay one.

She talks about being a girl dressed like a boy, and having kids ask her which one she was. She says how at first, she would seethe in silence, but eventually, she answered one little girl, explaining that even though it’s confusing, sometimes, girls like to dress up like boys. I guess I was one of those girls.

Science – and society – chalk this up to lots of different things. Penile envy. Lesbianism. Growing in a house full of brothers. Being raised by single parents. Rape. Body shaming. Insert inaccurately relevant rationale. Whatever the cause is, there are girls who like to dress like boys, and boys that like to dress like girls, and people that think there’s no such thing as clothes for boys and clothes for girls. To the latter, this entire discussion is moot.

For a long time, I worried that I was clouding my child’s perception of femininity, because I wore jeans and hoodies and clothes that hid my curves. Other times, I worry that wearing ‘girly’ clothes exposes me – and her – to harassment and sexualisation. Here’s the thing though. We have boobs and vaginas, and those will attract male attention no matter what we choose to wear. For example: Jade, the super-smart, super-stylish diva from Bratz.

Jade 1
At home…
Jade 2
At school…

There is a place for discretion in clothing. All these cases about school dress codes in the west and how they’re teaching girls that their bodies are dangerous … their bodies are dangerous. Their bodies can draw men to hurt them. Not because of what they’re wearing, but because of what they are. Their bodies are dangerous because their bodies are female.

Knives are sharp. They can cut meat to feed a family, or they can murder an innocent being. And sometimes, they can murder an innocent being to feed a family. That’s just how nature works, and nature is a bitch. A woman’s body is dangerous because her body is prey and his body is a knife. He can use it to protect, or he can use it to hurt.

And it’s not the girl’s fault. It’s the man’s fault. It’s ALWAYS the man’s fault. So I teach my daughter that what she wears affects how people perceive her, and that sometimes, it can make people want to hurt her. I teach her to defend herself when people do try to hurt her, to never give in, and to never give up. And I teach her to take all these things into consideration … and then decide for herself what she wants to wear.

I suppose that’s the closet that I’m coming out of. Allowing myself to be a girl. This probably sounds ridiculous because I know from experience that responses will be largely positive. But when you’ve built your entire identity around being unwanted, unattractive, unhappy, and unloved … then actively looking pretty can be a very scary thing.

I’m going to come out of another closet. A rather expensive closet. *deep breath* I’m currently in therapy for clinical depression. My baby knows about it, as does my best friend, my siblings, a few people at work, a few other friends online. Come to think of it, a lot of people know about it. I guess it’s one of those badly kept secrets. *sheepish grin*

Their reactions have been surprising and typical at the same time. Some told me to pray, because God fixes all things. Yeah, me and God aren’t on the best of terms … which is what those people blame for the depression. Some people guilt-tripped me for wasting money. There are children dying in Africa (pun intended) and I’m paying someone to listen to my problems?

Lucy-Therapist

Others – the most progressive ones (or so I thought) asked why I would share problems with a stranger. Don’t I have friends? Or a boyfriend? Or alcohol? This from someone who has relatives that are psychologists, relatives that they would never talk to about ‘these things.’ My supporters said it really well though, maybe because they’re familiar with my journey through depression. They said, ‘Good. Do what you need to do.’

First, my therapy sessions do not involve couches, and she has never said, “Tell me about your ch-a-i-ld-hood,” even though it does get discussed. And I’ve learned that when depression lifts, it is typically replaced with agression, which I suppose is I’ve been so angry lately.

I’ve also noticed that I’m starting to tackle things I’ve been running away from. Like listening to rhumba and enjoying it. Or buying a washing machine. Or baking three different cakes last night. Or suddenly wanting to wear skirts.

I’ve recognised that it’s gradually getting easier to know what I want and don’t want. In the past, I’ve mostly rebelled against things. I know my mum wants my hair long, straight, and tongy, so I keep it short and dreadlocked. I know my dad wants me in senior marketing management, so I get an artsy job in advertising.

I know my pals say I have nice legs, so I keep them shrouded in loose-fitting jeans. I know that people in studios are fun, happy, party-people, so I avoid all office-related functions. I know PTA members are all pants-suits and shiny cars, so I show up in sweatpants and a bandanna.

These choices are more conformist than I realise, because while I imagine I’m being true to myself, what I’m doing is living for other people by active contradiction. I am living my life based on their opinions, even though I’m acting against said opinions. And yes, that part of me that is loudly whining feels like I am betraying this core part of my personality.

But another part of me, a calmer, older part *shudder* admits that maybe I’m finally growing up, and that maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Yes, I will miss standing out, miss the sideways glances from a meticulous high-heeled mums as I saunter in with a hoodie. And I will cringe at the knowing grins from relatives, teachers, and peers who finally ‘approve’ of me for conforming. It will probably be a while before I stop feeling like I’ve lost a major part of myself.

Which is probably why I’ll still be in jeans and hoodies two or three times a week. To quiet my loud inner teenager. I think it’s cool though, that I’ve finally freed myself to add bits and pieces to my nature. To try out new things and see if I like them. I’ve been so scared of losing the ‘real me’ that I forgot to discover who ‘the real me’ is. I finally accept that who I am can change, grow, adapt, develop, and that even though adulting generally sucks, growing up isn’t always a bad thing.

♫ Blank Space ♫ Taylor Swift ♫

Of nipples and awkward boners

I have a bit of a reputation at work. I always eat gorgeous food. I always eat alone. And I almost always eat at my desk. Also, I chew really loud. My workmates complain a lot, and some have accused me of being a (food) tease. Case in point, this is what I had for breakfast. I dolloped it onto a massive slice of home-made black forest cake.

Whipped cream in a box.
I wanted to use a photo of the actual dessert but my camera phone is only 2MB.

The other day, I was having mashed potatoes and stuffed chicken (which I didn’t cook). I microwaved it, put it on my desk, then went back to the kitchen for a cup of lemon tea. Yes, that’s black tea with a slice of lemon inside it. While I was away, two of my favourite workmates stood at my desk, ogling my plate, debating on whether or not they should snatch a piece of my chicken. It’s not like I would know who had done it.

In the end, they decided not to. And because they are my friends, they later confronted me about it, suggesting I should try eating somewhere else to spare them all the gastronomical torture. Because they’re my friends, I laughed it off, and the very next day, I had my divine breakfast at my desk.

Sexual crime is a lot like this. Someone violates someone else because they think no one will ever know. I’m not just talking about rape. I’m talking about groping a woman in a crowded place, cat-calling some stranger who can’t recognise your face, molesting a child – male or female, shooting or sharing nudes without permission, doing something sexual that you know is wrong simply because nobody can stop you.

Here’s another way that sexual crime is similar to my so-called food teasing. My workmates blame me for their appetite. I have delicious food and I display it yet deny them from enjoying it. It’s not their fault for wanting food that doesn’t belong to them. It’s my fault for having it. The solution is not for them to stop smelling or looking at my food. The solution is for me – and my tempting food – to stay away from their senses.

Yes, I Googled it. Doesn't mean I didn't eat it.

And here is the third – and best way that not doing sexual crime is like my lunch. The guys wanted my food. They blamed me for advertising my food. They had the opportunity to steal my food. But they didn’t. They stood, they looked, they sniffed, they questioned, they viciously debated … and then they walked away.

Just let that sink in for a minute.

I had an interesting conversation with a male friend. We both have tweenage children, and were worried about their exposure to adult sexuality. He tried to remember what he was like at that age. He has a distinct memory of looking at adult women in swimsuits and feeling an odd stirring. He didn’t know what it was or what to do with it, he just felt super excited and hard.

He says he was too young to fully – or even partially comprehend sexuality. He didn’t know how to masturbate or what a wet dream was. He just knew something exciting was happening and he didn’t have a way to express it, sate it, or make sense of it.

Years later, as an adult, he does still get stirrings. Of course now he knows what they’re about and can respond appropriately. But he explained something I’d never quite understood – that male sexual responses – and by this I mean erections – are a reflex. They can hide it, they can attempt to maintain it, they can even try to reduce it. But they can’t actually control it.

comical-military-cartoon-soldier-at-attention-but-uniform-at-ease-c-1942

Lesson two: Boners can be triggered by just about anything. A thought, a word, an image, a fabric, anything. And it isn’t always sexual. A man can suddenly stand up and as his trousers rub against his crotch, his penis takes notice. Or he could be excited about work, success, a brilliant goal, a fast car, and suddenly his manhood is saluting. Oddly enough, erections can even be triggered by panic or intense fear.  Hence the awkward boner … and morning wood. Sorry ladies, it has nothing to do with your curvy nude self lying next to him when he wakes up. While we’re at it, baby boys can get boners. It often happens when you change their diapers, and there’s nothing oedipal about it. Sometimes, those diaper boners pee in your face. Literally.

Also, guys, to throw a little cold water on your arousal, nipples are exactly the same. Our areolar attention is rarely about sex. It can be about a cold breeze, a baby crying, a shift in the fabric of your bra or blouse, a chilling scene in a slasher movie, an excellent joke, anything really. And sometimes they poke your eyes out for no reason at all. *shrug*

Now then, if a man cannot control his boner, are all our sexual harassment and anti-rape arguments moot? No. Because while a man can’t control the rigidness of his penis, he can definitely decide what to do about it. My workmates left my chicken out of respect for me. A man can choose not to cat-call, or grab, or grope, or rape, or share, or troll, or slut-shame, or give unsolicited attention … even if his nether regions are screaming otherwise.

We are often told that the female body is dangerous, and many feminists think that statement is body shaming. I disagree. I think the female body is dangerous, because it invokes desire in men, and desire – in the wrong loins – can lead to people getting hurt. Not just the woman that is desired, but also her loved ones, her defenders, anyone that gets in his way.

I also know without a doubt that it is WRONG to blame a woman for having a dangerous body. She didn’t choose to have a vagina and breasts. It’s how she was made. From ribs. Or mutation. Or evolution. You can’t punish anyone for their anatomy.

J-Law

I learned another thing from my male friend. Compartmentalisation is real. Whenever we see a man mistreat a woman – either by his deeds or with his words – we tell him to imagine that the woman was his daughter, or his mother. We think this will put him in place and make him rethink his actions. And often, it does. But then we wonder why he can’t see all women as his sisters, daughters, mothers, and therefore, respect and protect them all.

Well, here’s the thing. Freudianism aside, if men saw all women as their mothers, well, they wouldn’t have any daughters. Or sons. Or grandkids. It turns out that male compartmentalisation is essential to the growth of the human population, because only very twisted people want to reproduce sexually with their daughters and their mothers. And people like that are lost.

You know what else is dangerous? Lions. Lions are dangerous. They can kill, they can maim, and they can’t help it. It’s just the way they are. So do we teach lions to stop hunting gazelles? Do we ask them to walk around with blaring sirens that yell, ‘Lion coming!’? Do we train them to mute their roars into zebra-friendly whispers? No. We take necessary precautions.

PLEASE NOTE THAT IN THIS ANALOGY, THE LION IS NOT A MAN.

THE LION IS A WOMAN.

And yes, I know I could have said lioness,

but even though she does all the hunting,

no one is afraid of a lioness.

Except maybe this dude.

Angry lioness

Every day, we tell human lions – i.e. women – that because they are dangerous to men, they need to knock out their own teeth and learn to whimper instead of roar. Which is ridiculous really. If anything, it’s the men that need to temper themselves to avoid being hurt by the lion. Nobody wants to be eaten (and chewed, and swallowed) by a lion. Pun intended.

I’m not saying men need to hide in caves and avoid women like the … lion. I’m saying that while they may have no control of their awkward reflex boners, they are perfectly capable of restraining their desire to whip it out and stick it in the nearest female, either verbally or otherwise.

A woman can’t help having breasts or a vagina. It’s kind of – you know – what makes her a woman. Even if she has a mastectomy or hysterectomy, she still has phantom boobs and a phantom womb, so, you know, still a woman. Still a lion. So asking her to ‘hide’ her womanhood doesn’t make men any less susceptible to those ‘charms’. After all, they’re still there, and it’s silly to blame a person simply for being who they are.

On the other hand, you can blame a person for what they do. You can blame a woman for what she wears, sure. It’s easy. But you can’t say your actions were directed by what she’s wearing. Minis have nothing to do with being cat-called. Or groped. Or raped. Proof? A man can wear a mini and still not be raped, because a mini doesn’t give him boobs or a vagina.

A woman in a mini is not raped because she’s wearing a mini. A woman in a mini is raped because she has boobs and a vagina, and because her rapist knows nobody can stop him. Which is exactly why half naked models and actresses are never, ever, ever raped on red carpets or catwalks. So it’s about time we shifted the discussion away from policing women. Because all the burkas and buibuis and maxi skirts and shapeless trousers are not going to stop her from having breasts and a vagina.

Female parts excite male parts. I get it. Male (and female) parts get erect without permission. I get that too. But the deliberate action of taking that erect penis and using it to attack a woman with your words and/or your actions is not an automatic event. Stop it. Control yourself. Get your other head back in the game. After, all, you’re a thinking man, not a horny dog.

♫ Hivo ndo kunaendanga ♫ Majirani, Kenrazy & V-sita ♫