obscene

As I mentioned in my last post, I have (in my opinion, at least) an interesting cultural analysis of my run in with Ravi prepared for you, but today was a long day of work, and I have a long evening of deciphering bad handwriting and stapling ahead of me, so we'll save that for another day. One thing I forgot to mention about Ravi was that when I was finding out his name and mobile number, I also found out that he's only 15. Which doesn't mean that he can't already be a lecherous little pervert who goes around groping people because he can get away with it, but it does make it, in my mind, more likely that he's a product of his culture with who has had a difficult life, no good role models, and no opportunity to learn self-control. And as Muffin, who has spent time in India, pointed out, Chennai is a conservative city--it's not like Mumbai or Bangalore. Even though I do my painstaking best to avoid even a hint of cleavage or the sight of a bra strap, it's probably not all that wise or respectful of me to be wearing tank tops around (that's what I was wearing when I got groped--a ribbed cotton tank top from Old Navy). I dress conservatively at work, as I've mentioned, but in the evenings, we're mostly hanging out at home, going out to eat, or doing things like going to the internet place. Of course there are Indians all these places, but I'm not with them or interacting directly with them (except for waiters and stuff) so I just don't think about it as much. And the last time I spent 2 months in a developing country (Mexico), it was mandatory that I dress in a way that was considered culturally appropriate (all skirts, no bare shoulders, no bare knees, etc), and there's a part of me that is rebelling against that a little, I suppose. I guess what it comes down to is that there's only about 3 inches between my throat and where the shadow of my cleavage starts, so lots of things seem low cut on me. And it's hot here, and I hate being told what to wear or being made to feel that my body is inherently obscene and has to be covered like some unsightly scar. I want to go back to the US where guys just think I'm fat and don't, for the most part, try to molest me (a creepy guy on the bus tried to show me his penis once, but I escaped before he could get his fly down).

Okay, I think I've worked through most of my rage, and I promise to post a dispassionate and interesting essay on the cultural issues raised by little Ravi sometime soon. Thanks for bearing with me as I drone on about this.

P.S. Remember my problem where I couldn't view my blog? It turns out that I was a victim of censorship! (Not very effective censorship, however, because I could still post.) Read a little blurb from The Economist about it here (scroll down just past the picture of the boat and look for the word "India" in bold).