It is 11:37 a.m. in the Hooters parking lot, and the festivities
have already begun. Beneath a be-Hootered banner, two men play
“Crocodile Rock” on dueling pianos. The pianos, however, are not
pianos. Instead, two electric keyboards have been implanted in black
piano-shaped boxes. If dueling pianos can be said to become “more
depressing,” this has occurred. To the right of the dueling electric
piano-shaped boxes is a rectangular fenced-in pen, in which 50 or so
Hooters girls are milling about in their traditional orange baby-shorts
and white Skechers and diarrhea-
colored panty hose. Close
quarters. It is hot outside. The air smells of manure.
This is no ordinary Hooters franchise—it is a Hooters
casino, one of only three in the known world1 (if a Hooters
restaurant can be said to become “more depressing,” this has
occurred).2 Prior to its Hooterizing, the space already housed a
casino. That casino was called Rascals. Rascals is dead now. Hooters
lives. We have come to the grand opening of the Hooters of South
Park—a semi-industrial, working-class neighborhood south of
Seattle, most recently famous for a horrific murder—to witness a
fat man cut a symbolic ribbon with a pair of oversize novelty scissors.
Also, we will eat wings.
Also, die a little inside.
I know Hooters is nothing new. I’m sure feminists have been pitching
fits about it since the first one opened in Buttfuck, Florida, in 1983.
But Hooters is new to me. I managed to avoid Hooters for the
first 27 years of my life—much as I avoided strip clubs and other
social transactions geared toward the male boner—and I was not, I
discovered, quite ready for Hooters.
After a few minutes, a handler lets some of the Hooters girls out of
their pen, and they receive Hula-
hoops. We (journalists, family
members, Rascals regulars in mourning) sit in folding chairs and watch
as the girls gyrate to “Don’t Stop Believin'” while the dueling
pianists offer commentary on their bodies and gyrations. “Not only do
they do that,” one of the pianists leers, “later, they will
serve you all food.” He transitions seamlessly into “Summer of ’69.”
The girls wiggle and bounce in the manure-scented parking lot. “Those
were the best days of my life…” The aforementioned fat man comes out
and makes a speech about how working at Hooters is “empowering.”3 I
sigh forever.
We enter the restaurant,4 seat ourselves in a booth, and meet our
waitress, a truly sweet young lady who, in the spirit of Hooters Family
Restaurants, I’m going to go ahead and call Professor Boobies. She is
nervous. Clearly, she has been
instructed to flirt with us. “So
have you all eaten at Hooters restaurants before?” Professor Boobies
asks, looking around the table expectantly. “Yes.”5 “Yes.” “Yes.” “No.”
I have not. I am the only one. “Oooooooo!” she peeps. “Hooters
viiiiiiirgin!” I prepare to lose my Hooters virginity. I hope Hooters
will use a condom. “It’s nice outside, huh?” Professor Boobies asks.
“Yeah, it’s sunny!” we reply. “And in
September!” “It’s
almost October,” I remind her. “HALLOWEEEEEN!” she cries, clapping her
hands.
On the table are several copies of the September/October issue of
Hooters: The Magazine, Special 2009 Swimsuit Spectacular Issue.
The Hooters magazine breaks down as follows: 60 percent titties
(faux), 20 percent sports, 14 percent idiotic bullshit, 1 percent Ted
Nugent, and 5 percent extra titties (because, titties!). The back page
is an editorial called “A Separate Set of Rules!” by one I. J.
Rosenberg, who owns a “sports marketing company” in Atlanta. I. J.
Rosenberg believes that celebrities, or “‘special’ people,” get special
treatment, that they live by “a separate set of rules,” and that this
double standard has led our country into a “financial and moral
crisis.” I. J. Rosenberg cites many damning instances of celebrities
who “never really paid the price,” including Bill Clinton (“Clinton
lied to me, to you, and to the rest of the American people”), Ted
Kennedy (“Is he still a senator? He’s the epitome of ‘never goes
away'”—oops!), and O. J. Simpson (“For 12 years after being
acquitted for the murder of his ex-wife, The Juice walked the
streets”). I. J. Rosenberg demands justice. Exclamation point!
Of particular note in Hooters: The Magazine is the “JOKES”
page, which offers a quip about the terror of rectal thermometers
(that’s like gay buttsex, you know!); the story of “Joan, the rather
well-proportioned secretary” who didn’t realize she was lying naked on
a skylight; a handful of old-timey blond jokes; and a humorous exchange
between two hunters: “Hey, you almost hit my wife.” “Terribly sorry.
Have a shot at mine, over there.”
Periodically, waitresses come by and ask if we want them to sign our
magazines. “Yes?” we reply. “I’ll sign on the page number of how old I
am,” says Professor Boobies, “and don’t say 16!” Um, I wasn’t going to?
The owner of the franchise, a remarkably uncharismatic man in an orange
tie, comes by to say hello. I shake his hand much harder than is
necessary. “Our motto is: Every day we throw a party and you’re
invited,” he tells us, distracted (by boobies?). “We’re committed to
the growth of entertainment and excitement in the Seattle area.” Eye
contact is minimal.6
Finally, wings arrive. “Let me guess: Are you guys a spicy table or
a not-spicy table?” Professor Boobies asks. We wait for her to guess.
She doesn’t. “Spicy?” we say. “I knew it!” (Then why didn’t you guess?)
The wings are deep-fried, which I did not expect. Grease runs down my
chin. Professor Boobies’ acrylic nails make it difficult for her to
open the small, prepackaged tub of ranch dressing. One nail
accidentally pierces the foil, and she has to go in the back for help.
I dip the wing in the ranch. I feel fat and condescending.
In modern times, because of “society” and “women’s rights,” it’s not
acceptable to be (publicly) a person who likes their women dumb,
subservient, seminude, and kept in a pen. A lady isn’t just boobs with
legs, an animated sexy mannequin that brings you food, and you cannot
shoot a lady in the face just because she nags or won’t give you a
mouth-hug on your johnson (see: “JOKES” section, above). Anymore. We
did that already (see: caveman times through 1975). Except at
Hooooooters! Hooters is like a misogyny theme park, where intellectual
curiosity is kept to a minimum (see: I. J. Rosenberg), all the women
are girls, all the girls who weren’t born “empowered” have cut open
their chests and stuck plastic bags of goo in there and sewn ’em up
again in the name of making money and making men happy, and no one’s
shaming you into treating them like humans with brain-parts. You’re
paying for the privilege, after all. They have the right to vote, after
all (going on 100 years now! Girl power!). Jesus Christ. I’m raising my
daughters to be ugly.
It’s like—a friend pointed out later—if someone opened a
restaurant called Niggers, and the all-black waitstaff dressed like
slaves and step ‘n’ fetched you platters of watermelon, and when it was
your birthday they were all,
“Jump-down-turn-around-pick-a-bale-of-cotton!” and brought you a cake
in the shape of a bale of cotton. And racists could go! And indulge
their desire to be publicly racist under the guise of a fun-loving
theme restaurant! Niggers! It’s all in fun. It really is like
that.7
Eventually, when we can eat no more curly fries, the Hooters girls,
under the watchful eye of orange-tie-man, clap their hands and sing a
loud song. It is last call. Lunch is over. Some of the Hooters girls
seem happy; some don’t. It’s a job. They get to make some money. They
are pretty. Some of them have fake hair. Maybe they want more than
Hooters; maybe they don’t. Maybe it’s just a restaurant. We step
outside into the bright parking lot, hot in September. I’m glad I’m not
wearing panty hose. It smells like manure. 
*Footnotes
by Paul Constant
1. The others are in Las Vegas and Spokane. This month, Renton will
boast the world’s first Hooters restaurant and bowling alley.
2. Let’s visit with the devil’s advocate for a minute. Every job
waiting tables sucks. How is a job waiting tables at, say, the
Cheesecake Factory any better? You have to wear a silly, impractical
outfit (white jeans? In a kitchen?). You may not be objectified as
openly, but you still flirt for tips. And how about the poor, wretched
human beings at Cold Stone Creamery or Johnny Rockets, forced to sing
for their tips while wearing silly outfits? Is that somehow okay
because it’s not sexual? And Hooters waitresses probably make better
tips. One could argue that Hooters doesn’t create a problem, it just
capitalizes on it. We are America. We have capitalized on our problems
from the very beginning. At least some women are making more money off
of it now, right? Right?
3. The fat man also makes a speech about how he will protect the
Hooters brand. It’s unclear exactly what he’s going to protect Hooters
from—socialism?—but he made that vow, in front of
journalists and family members and the all-encompassing odor of shit.
So if something awful happens to the Hooters brand because of the
Hooters casino in South Park, we all will know who has failed in his
sacred calling.
4. To get into the restaurant, we have to walk through a gauntlet of
cheering Hooters girls. A reporter for some local publication or other,
a large, slovenly, doofy guy with a goatee, holds up his hands and
throws his chin in the air pridefully, accepting the applause like some
loose-fit-khaki-wearing potentate returning home from JCPenney with a
great bounty.
5. My previous trip to Hooters: On a business trip to Washington,
D.C., three middle-aged ladies thought it would be hee-larious to drag
their bookish young employee to a Hooters for a business lunch. I ate a
pale, gamy chicken sandwich, watched a Hooters waitress try to teach an
awestruck 3-year-old boy how to Hula-hoop (she was probably more
successful at creating a future panty-hose fetishist), and puked my
lunch back out on the side of NPR’s headquarters during the walk
back.
6. If you are embarrassed to be in a Hooters and you are a straight
man, eye contact is incredibly problematic. You don’t want to just
stare the waitress in the eye, because that seems to somehow proclaim
“I’m not staring at your tits” in a very blatant way. So you just have
to look at the tabletop, or some neon orange thing or another, or your
glistening food.
7. Okay, it’s not quite like that. But here’s the most
problematic thing about the Hooters brand: its positioning as a family
restaurant, built on family values. They encourage people to bring
their kids. They sell child-size Hooters T-shirts (one kid’s T-shirt
has handprints all over it, and it reads “Hooters Girls Can’t Keep
Their Hands Off Me”) and even Hooters bibs and onesies for infants. In
this way, it is more dishonest than, say, strip clubs or porn, which
are clearly for adults. Hooters avoids that kind of stigma in part
thanks to regular and publicized charitable donations—today’s
restaurant opening trumpeted a gift to a local cystic fibrosis
foundation and featured a heartfelt, and incredibly awkward, speech
about the horrible disease by the relative of a CF sufferer.
How was the food? Was it a good value? Was the service good and timely? Was the staff professional, capable, friendly and attentive? Was the atmosphere pleasant and comfortable? Was the noise level acceptable? Was the place clean, including the bathrooms? None of that is included because what this writer offers is self-indulgent false superiority with oh so many clever adjectives. Who cares what you think about the style of this place? What makes you an authority?
“I dip the wing in the ranch. I feel fat and condescending.”
Lindy for the WIN on herself!!!
Also since when is Paul Constant straight?
Uptight fucking Seattle douchebags. Jesus. I don’t like Hooters, but this article is ridiculous.
Now I get a sense of what right wing nutjobs mean when they scream “thought police” and “PC”.
As the father of two independent, strong-willed and brilliant daughters, I can honestly say to the author: Lighten the fuck up. You have serious self-esteem issues. You also most likely have intimacy issues as well. What a fucking whiner.
Additionally, Paul Constant’s footnote “A reporter …holds up his hands and throws his chin in the air pridefully, accepting the applause like some loose-fit-khaki-wearing potentate returning home from JCPenney with a great bounty” is probably the best turn of phrase I’ve read in the past week.
@37, this read NOTHING like a Vonnegut excerpt. Vonnegut did not take cheap shots. Vonnegut wrote as if he had put himself in the shoes of the person whom he criticized (White-knighting Vonnegut as if he needs my help). This article was far short of that humanity.
@55
10 bucks an hour? Get a clue; those girls are making a shit ton more than 10 an hour. This isn’t the fucking IHOP.
@59, “holds up his hands and throws his chin in the air pridefully, accepting the applause like some loose-fit-khaki-wearing potentate returning home from JCPenney with a great bounty” is an adjective-clogged piece of pure derision. Designed to get applause for the barbing of an innocent bystander.
Man, I miss the days when hipster guys were as smart and feminist as Ian McKay. What the fuck happened?
When women have equal control over their own sexuality (including when to NOT be sexualized), and when I have my pick of places to go and drool over hot, straight men in their underwear, I’ll be ok with places like Hooters existing.
@35, the difference between Hooters and the sex work advertised and promoted in The Stranger is that the latter pays their bills and is targeted to the demographic that reads The Stranger. Must not bite the hand that feeds you.
The white suburban males who frequent Hooters are not usually readers of The Stranger.
I could not care less about Hooters, that’s why I never go. Guess what? I don’t care if you go or work there or not.
I think the comments on this article raise a very, very serious issue about Seattle: where the hell to get great wings?!!
Lindy – you should interview the janitor at the Lusty Lady or something, you know, to restore balance to the universe and all.
This article must have been quite simple to write, since it has been written only about 5000 times all-fucking-ready. Would it not have been possible to at least bring an originial slant to the task? Perhaps The Stranger should up the pay rate for articles and attract some writers who have something interesting or original to say, rather that regurgitating the same old slop that has sloshing around for the last two or three decades.
Holy shit how dare a restaurant cater to men with conventional tastes in women. What’s wrong exaggerated feminity – big fake tits and fake nails and dyed blond hair? What’s wrong with taking enjoyment in a woman serving you? These are natural desires many men have. It’s only a problem for women when the boobjobs and servitude are FORCED on them. And it never is. Chill the fuck out, Ms. West.
food sucks – the beers are expensive – the different hotsauces were good though…. they have like 5 different ones for the wings….
The women are always nice too. hooters is a great place for a beer on a hot summer day. beer – boobies and don’t forget to leave a huge tip.
food sucks – the beers are expensive – the different hotsauces were good though…. they have like 5 different ones for the wings….
The women are always nice too. hooters is a great place for a beer on a hot summer day. beer – boobies and don’t forget to leave a huge tip.
I remember an article about Hooters written in this very same publication about a year ago that gave a different perspective. I liked the previous take better.
I will note that what you experienced is nothing like a typical Hooters restaurant. They clearly hammed it up for the opening.
My father’s taken me to one here and there to eat chicken wings and watch football, and I think friends dragged me to one some other time. It’s a lot more low key and the waitresses are a lot less flirty. In other words, it’s a regular restaurant, except the waitstaff’s all somewhat attractive women and they’re dressed like morons.
Please fire this writer..
Racist white women aren’t feminists.
News flash – black people don’t always appreciate being used as a metaphorical Go-To Oppression-O-Meter!
This basically read like a giant excuse for you to say “n****r” several times.
You people don’t get it. You’re fuckin’ idiots.
Hooters doesn’t advertise in The Stranger.
That’s the issue; it’s a shakedown.
When you read an article in The Stranger, always consider who does and doesn’t advertise in The Stranger.
When you read the political opinions of writers and the editorial board of The Stranger, always consider who does and doesn’t advertise in The Stranger.
Hey Lindy when you say you don’t indulge in things related to the male boner does that include actually being a hot chick? And as for raising your kids to be ugly, I think nature has got that well in check for you..Haw Haw Haw!
Don’t worry though, I’d still titty fuck ya!
Hey Lindy when you say you don’t indulge in things related to the male boner does that include actually being a hot chick? And as for raising your kids to be ugly, I think nature has got that well in check for you..Haw Haw Haw!
Don’t worry though, I’d still titty fuck ya!
Hey Lindy when you say you don’t indulge in things related to the male boner does that include actually being a hot chick? And as for raising your kids to be ugly, I think nature has got that well in check for you..Haw Haw Haw!
Don’t worry though, I’d still titty fuck ya!
Hey Lindy when you say you don’t indulge in things related to the male boner does that include actually being a hot chick? And as for raising your kids to be ugly, I think nature has got that well in check for you..Haw Haw Haw!
Don’t worry though, I’d still titty fuck ya!
Fuggin stinkin service hang-ups!
Can someone actually articulate how in the fuck this article is racist?
Because I don’t understand how so many of you can be so hyper-sensitive to race issues that someone even saying, “Hey, what if we had an equivalent club that offended black people” can get you all riled up and yelling “racist,” but you still have no idea why this type of establishment THAT ACTUALLY EXISTS offends women?
I think that was Lindy’s whole fucking point.
@5, 15, 21, etc…
Some of you all are taking this review with way too much offense.
It’s called LIGHT HUMOR…LIGHT!. A little commentary, a little observation, a little truth a little joke(s). Overall, It’s a “review” and If you don’t like [her] review, then go online and google another restaurant critics’ review of our national treasure, Hooters. There’s a choice of who you can agree with these days, Lindy’s article is not the “end-all” definitive truth about Hooters.
Respectfully,
D310
Lindy West: best article EVER! Go grrl!!!
And fuck these pod people if they don’t like it. I loved it and the comparison to overt racism was just sweet!
May the misogynist corporate founders of this idiot restaurant chain soon drown in a vat of their own lard.
@67
Actually, these roles are forced on women. How many men end up exploited and reduced to base sexual beings by women because they need a job? Not too damn many, last time I checked. Most men are never put in a situation where they are encouraged to exploit their physical attractiveness in order to survive, be liked, or be treated as valuable human beings. The fact is that sexual roles are shoved down women’s throats from the moment they hit puberty, and under the tone of many of their social exchanges (especially for young women) is the implied assumption of their basic worth lying in their physical attractiveness (which is defined by the man). Hooters is not the issue here; the reason so many people are so worked up about the real issue of the pervasive sexism in our culture is because they are forced to live with it every damn day of their lives. Don’t try to make this about the specific example of Hooters, because it’s not.
oh these articles… they’re get worse each time.
@ 83. I believe you are correct in your belief that women are often times encouraged/forced to exploit their physical attractiveness in order to survive. On the flip side of that though men are just as likely (if not more likely) to have to exploit their physical muscles in order to obtain work (construction, etc…). Often times these gender roles are flipped (where a woman is doing the manaul labor and vice versa). This is how life works, all of us provide a service to other who have a need.
oh so you dont like fake boobs?whats the problem with them?nothing to do with making men happy.women and kids come there too.its relaxed and a good time.and girls are pretty covered up. compared to the cowgirls dancers or the barista up in everett wiggling their butts up in everett that just made the news. women are not empowered huh?did you sit there and talk to any of the girls.are you jealous?the are way worse things out the and you want to say you that.i have so much to say.where ever you go no matter what job your looks will get you a job or not get you a job.i will be back to write more cause really you and your article lady are too funny. oh and fyajke yi tour next pay check and get your teeth fixed!thay are rotting!YES IM TALKING ABOUT THE LADY THAT WROTE THIS ARTICLE!YES LINDA! YOU MUST BE JEALOUS CAUSE THESE GIRLS ARE HOT. TALK TO YOU AGAIN SOON
so basically you are ugly and hate all cute nice hot girls.so you must .hate all nfl cheerleaders.lingerie bowls.and actress showing too much skin for millions.all of firefighters that do a yearly calander wear the women show skin.oh you hate hooters.they are more coverd than most jobs out there.you article was stupid and you pretty much are too. like really get a life
EVERYONE STOP PUTTING LINDY IN THE CORNER! SHE’S A COMPASSIONATE GIRL WITH LOADS OF TALENT! SHE HAS A GREAT PERSONALITY AND IS A MARVELOUS DANCER!
I just wish she’d stop associating with these dead-beat “writers” and meet some nice boys. Maybe an attorney or a doctor. Lindy, honey, it’s okay sweetie. You’re better than all these losers!
#’S 86 & 87. IT’S LINDY, NOT LINDA! SCHMUCKS!
I love how a bunch of the comments are bitching and whining about how Lindy is bitching and whining about Hooters. It seems obvious that she’s trying to tackle the subject with her own irreverent brand of humor, not write something intended for the front page of the New York Times.
Like Lindy, I “lost” my Hooters virginity. As an out gay man surrounded by straight co-workers, the appeal of Hooters was utterly lost on me. The food was terrible and I was a bit disturbed by the skimpy attire worn by the servers, who were all amply endowed and had unbelievably tanned bodies. I tried their oyster shots, got talked into buying the shot glass by our waitress and had to insist on buying another watered-down cocktail to make the experience bearable. The next day, I complained that I went to Hooters and all I got was a lousy shot glass.
#89 you said Lindy has humor? Really? Lindy’s humor is on par with the worst episode of Mad TV ever. “Hey everybody it was like, SOOOOO Lame! I couldn’t believe Capitan boobies would degrader herself to like, show all that skin and stuff. It was totally gross and I died a little inside, I just can’t believe a woman would do all of this to look good in the eyes of average white douche bags that watch NFL and CBS comedies, because my articles are awesome!!!!! Seriously folks this is worse than Britney Spears parking lot and that was some serious sh@t. Can we get a real article out of the Stranger these days?
#88 that would be the best thing ever, then maybe we could be spared reading this crap on a weekly basis.
Great article. Hooters is indeed capitalizing on the American culture of puritanism and the distorted expression of sexuality that such prudishness generates.
Highly processed, mostly artificial (i.e. fake) food served by women with highly processed, mostly artificial (i..e. fake) breasts; at Hooters, substance and form mirror one another perfectly.
Men into huge breasts are babies. Witness their id-driven behavior as they act out their infantile nourishment fixations while eating in this kind of a setting.
I read Lindy West’s article, “I didn’t like Hooters” in the 10/1 issue and was glad to read her upfront, unapologetic and seriously feminist description of the shabby and sorry opening of the South Park, breast-obsessed casino. Thanks to the Stranger — of all places — for the article. It’s a pleasant change to see your paper dump the anything-goes attitude towards sex. Frankly, that song and dance becomes more than a little tiresome as it overlooks the degrading and prevalent attitude one gender (male) frequently displays towards the other (female). I want to hear more from West.
Honestly I didn’t even care what this article was about. I found it to be one of the funniest things I’ve read in a long time.
Great work, Lindy!
@93. Thank you for being so nice to my little Lindy-loo. You wouldn’t happen to be single, would you? Are you an attorney or, fingers crossed, a doctor? Do you like Rubenesque girls?
@94. Hi Christopher. Please tell me you’re a straight lawyer or doctor! If so, you sound like you’ll make a wonderful son-in-law. Would you like Lindy’s cell phone number?
Strip clubs and sex workers sell sex and we can certainly argue in what ways and to what extent that is inherently degrading to women.
Take a look at the pictures accompanying the article, and tell me “Caution Blondes Thinking” or the “All Women” (WTF?) signs are about sex. I can’t imagine either of them in any strip club.
What Hooters is selling isn’t just about the male boner.
I think Hooters is mostly harmless and exists as a place of non-normative interactions with women in the minds of most men. Still, it shouldn’t be surprising that having part of its “charm” being about “putting women in their place” would bother some people.
I want to make a brief comment about the “Niggers” restaurant comparison that I hope will help clarify the situation:
Lindy presented the “Niggers” restaurant scenario as though the black people working there were being FORCED to work there, which obviously would make it awful and horrifying — and who wasn’t horrified by that image? But the thing about Hooters is this: the servers choose to work there. Presumably, each of those women could get other jobs that would pay the bills just as well, if not better. They know what they’re getting into (beyond the ‘pen’). This is what concerns me the most. But this is none of my business… so long as I choose not to give them my business. Right..?
Now, imagine that an ad appeared on Craigslist calling for dark-skinned (the darker the better! and fake pigment is ok!) servers for the “Niggers” restaurant and black people responded, WILLINGLY applying to work somewhere that they knew their blackness would be simultaneously denigrated and sexually appreciated (for the sake of forming a more accurate parallel, these racists are also turned on by black skin color). But who the hell would subject themselves to that?! What do they get out of it? A paycheck and some hefty tips, I suppose… is that really it? If the black servers knew they were being lusted after — that not only were they being reduced to a skin color in exchange for money, but they were being sexually objectified as well — would that make it more appealing to work there?
Let’s face it: sometimes people WANT to be sexually objectified. Working at Hooters is like being able to add “Professionally sexy” (at least for those who think large breasts are the epitome of sexiness) to your resume. One could also add, for better or worse, “Able to ignore the fact that I’m more than a pair of titties for an entire 8 hour shift.” Impressive.
Fact of the matter is, if anyone WANTED to work at “Niggers,” it might exist. The other fact of the matter is that there are plenty of women out there who WANT to work at Hooters; they have other options, and yet, that’s what they choose. THIS is the single greatest point of confusion and frustration for me regarding the article.
But… is it any of my business?
Would black people have any business protesting the mere existence of a “Niggers” restaurant based on the way it condones and perpetuates racism, out of fear that just because it is SUPPOSED to be confined to the walls of the restaurant doesn’t mean it won’t end up manifesting in its patrons’ every day lives? Anyone telling women to “just get over” Hooters would have to say that black people would need to “just get over” a “family restaurant” catering to a racist populace.
*Sigh*.
While I don’t care for the hectoring tone, JF makes an interesting point. Why is Linda’s different? Why is, say, CrashPad’s pornography different? What’s the difference between a sex worker and a Hooter’s employee?
No, I’m not completely obtuse. I see a few differences. But those differences seen either strictly aesthetic or strictly theoretical: indie hipster hot vs. pneumatic, appeals-to-frat-boys hot; empowered vs. exploited. Sure, there are probably some questions as to whose lot is more self-determined (or who had more capacity to make said determination).
I certainly prefer a derby girl to a Hooter’s girl, or Syd Blackovich to . . . whomever frat boys find attractive. But I’m not comfortable suggesting that the various transgressions I claim to support are only okay if people transgress on my terms (i.e., according to my tastes).
@99. The “N-words” analogy is weak at best. Just fess up and admit that you enjoyed dropping the N-bomb half a dozen times. A more appropriate analogy would be hypothesizing a eatery called “Anacondas” which employed only extremely fit and well endowed male servers wearing nothing but obscenely tight Speedos.
(Did I hear Dan Savage just exclaim “YES, IF ONLY!!!!”)
#99, Lindy did not present the NIGGERS restaurant as though black people were being forced to work there. She never stated this. Your assumption is that they would have to have been forced to work there, because why would black people want to parade themselves around like slaves for the benefit of white people, regardless of how much money they could make from it.
And yet many women are willing, even happy, to parade themselves around like stereotypes for men. There are a lot of benefits that are offered to women who do this. That’s how internalized sexism works.
To complicate things, supporting the choices of these women to do so has also been re-branded as “sex-positive” feminism, and feminists who don’t agree with this self-exploitation are criticized as being anti-sex and judgmental of the women themselves. The reality is we aren’t judging the women, but the issues surrounding the choices.
Specifically:
Sex-positive feminists focus on is the ability to accept themselves as sexual, which they only attain by presenting a version of themselves that others readily find acceptable and have since way before I was born. Would they feel so empowered by their sexuality if they didn’t have a receptive audience? Nothing new or challenging here.
We already have the ability to use our bodies to turn ourselves and other people on. What we don’t have is the control over showing our bodies in a non-sexual way, because whenever we take our clothes off, we’re sexualized. If I wanted to take my shirt off on a hot summer day I couldn’t do so without being arrested or accosted. If I want to breast feed my baby in public, it’s an issue for many people, because breasts=sex. Being able to control this distinction is central to having true control over your body & your sexuality, yet sex-positive feminists never talk about that, and they just present us with more lame burlesque acts and sad porn sites.
I was sexually assaulted on the street walking home from a club in my own neighborhood. I was sexually assaulted at a massage parlor in a fucking legitimate healthcare facility. I was felt up on the bus by a guy sitting next to me. This all happened in the space of a few years, all in Seattle, all in public places. How many straight men has this happened to? We aren’t just whining. Our lives are actually affected by these issues, and it’s really upsetting to see so many men brushing us off simply because they have no idea because they haven’t dealt with it.
@103 – Don’t worry about it; internet bravado is almost a redundancy.
I once went to a Hooters with some gay male friends and a girl. The place was full of men trying to pick up the waitress. The waitress was extremely nice and spent most of the time chatting with us apparently happy to have customers who were not staring at her boobs. I felt sorry for her.
For the record, the Hooters mentioned in this article is just outside the borders of South Park.
Ya know, Lindy. You are in more dire need of a blow job than any woman in history.