I’m currently studying abroad in Quito, Ecuador, and I love nearly all of it so far. One of the things I do NOT love, however, is the prevalence of harassment here. I’m kind of accustomed to harassment because I go to school in Philadelphia. Usually when guys yell, “I loove youuu!” or call us pretty and stuff we’re on the street and they’re in cars, or we can easily get away from them.
However, last Friday, a few friends and I had to sit diagonally across from some 3 drunk harassers while we were trying to enjoy a French-fry break from our discoteca-night. And they would not give up. We ignored them for a while, and then one of them came over with a half-full glass of beer and offered it to us.
Purity Balls: Why is our viriginity anybody’s business but our own?
I’d be surprised if this is your first time hearing about
Purity Balls. The issue has been beaten to death – both by Christian conservatives who think they’re the keenest thing since toilet paper, and liberals like myself who think they’re a huge infringement on the rights of young girls – but if this truly is your first time hearing the (slightly suggestive) term, let me explain:
Purity Balls are pretty much like weddings. They’re held in big, fancy hotels with elegant finger foods, butlers with bad comb-overs, and the occasional violinist in the corner. But instead of a bride and groom coming together to pronounce their love to the world, the fathers and daughters attending these things make vows of their own. In well-rehearsed, cult-like chanting, the daughters …
