Holla At Me At Noon

Okay, so I know men think it’s their God-given right to holla at a woman anytime they see fit, but damnit, it’s not. I figured out a long time ago that the holla is less about men getting to know me and more about him doing the verbal equivalent of grabbing his dick and re-proving his heterosexuality to his boys with lustful yelps and not quite witty lines. But for the love of all woman-kind, can ya’ll stop hollering before 11am?

Give me a chance to get really awake, to settle into my day and plan out the next 10 hours, to at least get a Mc’Donald’s Mocha Frappe in me. I mean damn, 9:30 am and you are that lustful? They got to have pills for that. Better, just ease out a good one for free before you leave the house in the morning the way you do for a big date. All that energy in the AM makes you just seem too eager. Round-the-clock bravado sounds desperate and it tells everyone in ear shot that if you are that revved up off the sight of a woman then you’re certain to cum quick. That, or you just got out and /or ain’t seen none, smelt none, tasted none in months.

I am at Hardee’s getting my favorite Wednesday Morning Chicken Biscuit.  I am wearing, black jeans, a a yellow top and black sandals.  It’s the first week of school, and the principal has allowed the teachers to dress down.  The outfit wasn’t one to be desired, it wasn’t even second look worthy.  I see a black truck sitting mid-way down the block. It has tinted windows. Nice rims, I think and go back to lolli-dolly dreamland. After all, it’s 7:30 am and I’m only half awake. The passenger-side back window rolls down.

“Hey, girl, let me borrow them jeans!” a man yells from the truck.

Is this his best line? I know it’s early, but still. And from a car window? Not even the driver or damn, the passenger? The grown man they made sit in the kid seat?

“NOOOOOO!!!!” I shout back loud enough for half the block to hear him get turned down. I never break stride.

“Why you got to be so mean?” he bellows down the block after me.

He interrupts my early morning with a stupid ass question and I’m mean? I keep strutting (cause that’s how I do) then it dawns on me, that it’s 7:30am, on a Wednesday and this loser isn’t on his way to an office some place.   If he spent his time looking for work instead of looking at women, he might one day make enough money or gain enough respect to ride in a grown people’s seat upfront.

Oh, and because I believe some men genuinely think the holler is a way to meet women (and impress their boys at the same time), I want to tell them that 1) it’s not. And 2) there are some other times when you  should just leave women be (this goes for approaching them to speak sensibly too.)

When I am walking down the street with a bunch of white people. Either they are my friends or my co-workers. If they’re friends, I probably don’t date Black men anyway. If they are co-workers, than I’m on the clock. It’s hard enough being the Black woman in the office. Don’t turn me into a sex object in front of colleagues.

The beauty salon. I’m getting did. I’m busy. Speak to me (not holla) when I am done.

Anytime, I look mad. I hate it when men say/yell ”smile girl!” For fucking what? How you know I didn’t just get a horrible diagnosis or maybe my dog died. If I look angry, I probably am. Leave me alone. (Note: I had bronchitis for 5 weeks. You know dudes would holler in the middle of coughing fits? Like I can’t talk and I’m clearly diseased… and you want to kick game?)

I’m reading. I am engrossed in something I enjoy. If you were really that fine, my sensors would have gone off. My book is more important than you. Look, don’t speak.

Advertisements