May 12th 2016
Today I’m in Amsterdam with a group of friends.
Naturally, as you might expect, we walked down the Red Light District (stealing occasional guilty glances and looking away immediately)
It’s a really weird dynamic down there. It’s kind of dehumanising.
You hear people say ‘oooh look at that one’ ‘I’ll have that one’ ‘that’s nice’ ‘check that out’ and the girls (because if you haven’t figured it out; ‘that’ and ‘those’ are references to the girls in the Windows) aren’t referred to as girls. They’re objects. That. Those. Not even them.
It’s weird and a bit disgusting, and also very weird.
It’s like walking down an all you can eat buffet and choosing which desert you want
“Ooh I don’t like the look of that.”
“That looks nice.”
“Check out the strawberries on that.”
Except you’re not talking about desserts, you’re talking about people. Humans. Women.
Except it feels like they’re not. It’s like an automatic car wash, and they’re just there for a service.
It’s a very weird and creepy dynamic.
Until tomorrow, he told Roxanne to put on her red light.