A post where I probably piss people off

So the other day at the restaurant I was talking again with the two grill cooks who are afraid of me. I couldn’t tell you what we were talking about, something mindless I’m sure, as they are pretty simple guys, a year or two out of high school each and not much life experience, so other than the restaurant, we have very little in common. But at some point one of them referred to me again as, “You feminist, you!” He was trying to get a rise out of me, as he does several times a week now, but I generally brush him off.

But he wasn’t willing to let me ignore him this day, and asked me something along the lines of why was I a feminist, what was it I wanted when, after all, I had all the same rights as him.

I sighed. Heavily.

His friend chimed in by rewording the same question, then the two of them stood staring at me, waiting for my response. I just shook my head.

Where to start?

First of all, these guys are grill cooks. And I mean no disrespect to grill cooks – or maybe I do – but they aren’t college students working as grill cooks in order to pay tuition, nor are they two guys who love to cook and are using this as a stepping stone toward a life in the culinary arts or toward owning a restaurant. They aren’t well read. They aren’t well-educated. And they don’t even care to be. They’re just two guys, fresh out of mom’s house, looking to work at the highest paying menial job they can find and make enough money for a nice car and beer.

And that’s cool. No judgment there. Well, just a little.

But the thing is, how do I explain a concept such as feminism to these dudes?

So when they ask me – no – tell me I shouldn’t be a feminist because “women have the same rights as us,” I know that they have no concept of feminism other than the ERA, and from previous conversations with each of them, I know that they are fond of regurgitating rhetoric learned from high school gym coaches, local newscasters, and their pastor, but they have never given much thought to anything.

And by thought, I mean critical thought.

Lest my moment of silence in the face of their question be seen as victory on their part, I ask them if they know what the leading cause of death is for pregnant women.

They do not.

I then ask them how many women are victims of sexual crimes.

Again, they don’t know.

I ask them how likely is it a woman will be a victim of violence in her lifetime.

I tell them the odds.

Then I ask them how likely a person is to be a victim of terrorist activity, in this country. I tell them the cliché – that they are more likely to be struck by lightning than die by an act of terrorism. And then, I ask them how much money we are spending to fight terrorism, compared to how much we aren’t to fight violence against women. And then I ask them why we were so willing to sign the documents to rush to war against a small oil-rich country, when we are so unwilling to sign the documents endorsing the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW). And I tell them ours is the only developed nation to refuse to sign.

They don’t even know what it is – few do – a fact which only reinforces my point, that our culture places more emphasis on reactions to a hyperbolic fear of terrorism than to the very real threats in our daily lives, one of those threats being acts of violence committed against women, because sexual assault and domestic violence are still viewed as "women's issues."

The grill cooks’ response to my rant: “Well, that’s why women shouldn’t go out alone at night."

“Uhm, yeah," I mashed out my cigarette in the ash tray (yes, I was smoking!) and said, "That’s why I’m a feminist.”