On Monday, I dined at a particular restaurant that is known for commodifying the bodies of its predominately female staff (hint-hint: Hooters). The entire concept of this restaurant is problematic for obvious reasons, such as the over sexualization of young women in the name of hot wings. However, I was overwhelmed by the blatant disrespect for the women working shown by the manager.
As soon as I walked in, I knew something wasn’t right. I saw men who clearly only entered the restaurant to stare at the women working to make a living. It was only 5 p.m. so the establishment wasn’t too crowded; I guess that gave the manager the impression that our table was interested in learning more about his management style. He jokingly admitted to me and my cousins that he let his employees leave work early to go home with customers — as long as they showed up for their next shift. He then proceeded to fire his price gun to tag several of his employees on their arms.
Out of curiosity, I asked one of the employees what the sticker said, she looked and responded “two cents.”
Being that I consider myself an activist, a feminist and an all-around opinionated person, I normally would have spoken up. The problem, however, is that the manager looked just like me. Because my cousins and I are Black, I assume he felt more comfortable with us, which is why he advertised his actions. I like to see Black people succeeding, but I also know how difficult it can be to discuss sexism in the Black community.
I immediately thought about how it is expected that UNC students speak out — but my Black cousins don’t go to UNC, and they didn’t vocally acknowledge the problem with his actions.
I asked myself, is it really necessary for me to always be “that friend,” even when everyone knows it’s wrong? Would it have mattered if I actually said anything? At the end of the day, he would still be the manager. The question becomes, how does one confront these limitations? How do we decide which obstacles are worth jumping over?
In this specific situation, I can submit a report to the corporate office, but I’m confident that I’ll be complaining to a group of white men, and that presents another set of obstacles. I actually took the time to look them up and yes, the executives are male. Despite this, I have every intention of filing a complaint.
My experience at Hooters and the struggle I felt made me realize that while large actions like rallies and group protests are valuable and effective, everyday activism is all about this kind of bold action— and being bold really isn’t easy.
