Female in France

As the ground around my Paris roots hardens there are beaucoup interrelated topics I'd like to work through, dissect, understand. Most of them are in the nebulous of identity, like what is it like to be a French woman? Why am I a target for French men? Why is it easier to be yourself with other foreigners whom you objectively have less in common with than the French? In short, the mysteries of a temporary life abroad...

Let me start with the most unpleasant aspect of Paris for me. It has slowed down, but too often for my liking, men stop me or approach me and ask me something or say something in French, to which I respond "je ne comprends pas..." To which they respond with apparent delight : Oh! What do you speak, English? Where are you from?!? Let me clarify that this is, by Parisian standards, incredibly strange. The man that passed me by the Sorbonne caught my suspicion when he smiled at me, which now seems as strange as bowing to a stranger on the street, doing a rain dance around them, and then running off singing Tina Turner. It's strange. He confirmed my suspicion by then turning around, following me, and catching up with me to...I honestly don't even know where he can see this going. But he's gunning for it. Then there are the men who invent places to ask me directions to. Then there are the men that seem harmless, but seem to revel in the opportunity to teach me French or yell at me for not knowing it. And then just to keep things exciting, there are the homeless men who demand kisses when I deny them quarters.

And I don't want you to misunderstand this as harmless flirting, because on the rare occassions that I've allowed conversatIon to progress it inevitably ends with being asked if they can touch my hair... or if I'm interested in going back to their apartment. The universe does not just throw good men at you, that's not really the way it works.

And if it weren't for my natural response to this, it wouldn't really be a problem. There's no threat of physical attack and these strange encounters usually occur during daylight hours. But they're uncomfortable and unpleasant and sometimes upsetting and I have, without even noticing it at first, switched into aversion mode. I don't make eye contact with anyone on the street. I don't look up at posters or billboards for more than a few seconds. I don't crane my neck. I don't smile. I essentially pretend that I'm deaf: I reject all aural data. And while I don't think that this behavior has significantly lessened my fascination with the Alien planet that is Paris, it's not a particularly pleasant or open way to go through life.

My point isn't really oh, I shouldn't have to change my behavior patriarchy feminism sex objects blah blah blah. That's just not particularly useful. It's nice to think about the kind of world we could live in, but it's not the world that we actually live in, so those suppositions and hypotheticals aren't particularly helpful in coping with my reality. There are certain realities that we have to adjust to, and refusing to change our behavior is perhaps the least useful way to combat it. I'm not suggesting that pretending unwanted male attention is normal or giving in is the way to go, but only that progress is achieved in the way respond. Pretending that we don't have to respond is an easy way to change nothing. This is all a very theoretical way of saying that I'm looking for a way to shut it down without shutting myself off, and that that solution, when I find it, will be a big thing.

I had the great pleasure of hitting a wine bar with some of my classmates after school on Friday, and I enjoyed hours of conversation on any number of things, but as may be expected in a quartet of expats a lot of our discussions ran through and returned to identity: gender equality in Australia, Hong Kong v. Mainland China, Taiwanese interest in ABCs, the four types of Americans (for the record, it's apparently Americans, Jewish Americans, African americans, and...I can't remember the fourth category). But I guess that it takes a particular type of person to leave their life for half a year and move to Paris so despite the seemingly infinite list of cultural differences, big and small, there is an essential similarity in world view. Namely, that there's something of value and interest in every culture, but more specifically in every person. And, most importantly, that the two aren't interchangeable: generalizations aren't steadfast and while it's useful to make rules, we must admit to breaking them by virtue of our circumstance. Obviously I'm not your average American. If I were, I'd be in Paris, TX, not Paris, FR. But in that round table we each became an authority on and a stand in for our respective national cultures.

So maybe there's something there: managing awareness of the individual and the whole, while somehow being aware of how you come across...the great expat balancing act. And I guess there's something to be said for staying curious, asking the questions, trying to understand what upsets you as opposed to writing it off. Wish me luck.