A Taste of Gender Inequality

Well, it's 11pm and the boys just slipped out for the night—which means that we girls basically have to stay in. Rome so far has seemed pretty safe during the day, but once the sun goes down, the catcalls, whistles, and date rape drugs reveal themselves (or not so much "reveal" as "conceal [in drinks]" for that last one). We've been warned that going out even as pairs of females is unsafe, and I am certainly not going to ignore that advice. I have no desire to end up in a dark alleyway (of which there are many in this city meant for chariots instead of Chevrolets) with an intoxicated man, be he amorous American or romantic Roman. In a place and culture (and under a legal system) that are foreign to us, we women cannot forget that we don't have the independence or protection here that we might back home. Part of that protection is supposed to be provided by our compatriot males, but apparently we may be cramping their style in their weekend bar-crawls, so tonight they didn't even ask us if we'd like to escape the residence for a while, thus resigning me to yet another night of browsing the internet in my pajamas while eating Nutella with a spoon.