Being hot and fem in Peru

(shoutout Ben for the idea)

If you know me you know I am always hot. Like t-shirts-in-the-middle-of-winter, don’t-believe-in-packing-a-jacket, face-tomato-red hot. I also present pretty feminine. I like fun makeup and the colour pink and have curves that I’m often unable or unwilling to hide.

This all accumulates to my fashion philosophy of wearing the least amount of clothing possible, so that I don’t spontaneously combust into a pile of flames, while still toeing the line of being appropriate.

My performance of self can draw unwanted/inconvenient attention at times. Make no mistake, this is not a new experience or one specific to being abroad. I am a woman living in a patriarchal society, I am familiar with the ways my body is sexualized, commodified and objectified through simply existing. You could argue there are measures I could take to protect myself better, ie dressing more modestly just to end up fainting dramatically like a Victorian woman, but you could also argue no matter what I do I can not escape the fate of being seen for only my body and gender expression. People who act violently towards women can rationalize their behaviour regardless.

For this experience blog, I’m going to discuss the experiences I’m having and not edit out the parts I normally would.

Today my peers ran a 10k. I was incredibly proud of them and I was excited to cheer them along from the sidelines. My main worry for the day was the sun so I lathered myself in sunscreen and set out to cheer holding up my “Hot UBC Students” sign. As I walk out the front of the hotel a man stares at my sign and yells “you are hot” multiple times as I pass. I am now leaning over the barricade to cheer on Andree and another man runs his fingertips along the length of my arm, like he is testing the quality of fabric he is about to purchase. I turn away from his reach and say no and he smiles and moves along after a few moments. A couple minutes later another man comes along trying to sell a lama sweater. I answer with my well-rehearsed “no gracias” and he grabs for my hand. He holds it and asks if I am married, when I answer no he moves closer. He doesn’t look me in the eyes as says something implying I should go with him. I laughed nervously and said no again and flee back into the hotel.

I am 2 days into Cusco and have just adjusted to the altitude. I decide to wander with a group in search of sunglasses and street food. We are four women and one man. I am leading out in front and start to navigate, weaving us through a large group of men clearly getting ready for the festival. The men start to turn their head towards me and yell out words I am glad I don’t understand, other than mama. The man in our group is last to pass through and say those men were so friendly. I say I am just glad they didn’t touch me.

I’m in Lima and I desperately need to get my laundry done. A combination of throwing up on the airplane and leaning against dirty fences have filled my tote bag with clothes that really need a wash. Four of us head out to a place that is a 10-minute walk away. As soon as we cross the highway we are bombarded with men leaning out of vehicles that slow down as they drive past, yelling sexual phrases across the street and making lewd gestures as we walk by. I am suddenly aware my short skirt might be a bad idea and then rationalize I don’t deserve any of this treatment. My feminist ideologies aren’t going to protect my physical body though. My classmate decides to stand in front of us and use her body as a shield until we all cower into the laundry matt just for them to say they aren’t taking any more laundry today. Instead of facing the walk back to our hotel we uber. I am shaking.

To be clear I am having a good time and, contrary to popular belief, I actually do like men. I am mostly busy frolicking with llamas and alpacas in fields and I still don’t know the difference between the two (despite Ben’s best efforts). But this is also my reality. Thanks for listening.

Planning my next Instagram post,

Orla