The Red Card

22 August 2012.  One of our major goals during these early months of our stay in Nicaragua is to learn about the culture of the Nicaraguan people.  The issues people face, and how they have learned to deal with them. 

Sarah (who is Peggy’s niece) works for another non-government organization (NGO) promoting health education in Nicaragua.  She came to visit us last weekend, and told us this story from the village where she lives.

Feeling offended and belittled by the demeaning catcalls men often shout at ordinary women walking on city sidewalks, a local women’s group in the village of San Ramon decided on a plan to make their feelings known—very well known.  Ten or 12 of the women went to the nearby city of Matagalpa equipped with nothing but a whistle and a red card for each.  With the whistles and cards in hand, the women began to walk through the streets of the city.

When they heard a catcall (and there were many), the group would figure out which man was responsible and approach him directly.  When they got near to him, all the women held up the red cards and blew their whistles, long and loud. 

They didn’t need to say a word, yet they got their message across in a language the men completely understood. 

“TWEEET!  A RED CARD!  TWEEEEEEEET!  Ten more RED CARDS!  TWEEET! TWEET! A dozen more TWEETS!  

And the men understood.  “You have committed a foul!  You’re out of the game! Don’t do that again!  Not ever again!” 

Some men turned their faces away.  Many turned red with embarrassment.  Their friends disappeared, abandoning them to suffer alone in their shame. 

But that wasn’t all.  The women took photographs.  Then they spoke to the newspaper.  A news story was published, complete with pictures.  And then the women posted the printed story on boards and light poles all over the city.  There the story was read by many, young and old.

Wasn’t that an innovative idea?  It so effectively called public attention to a degrading problem, but no harsh words needed to be said.  The women got to let off some steam—almost literally—but without harming anything.  Nothing, that is, except the offending male egos.  They used a humorous means to let their feelings be known publicly while clearly communicating their displeasure to the very people who caused their pain.  Surely it was a remarkable local response to a common problem for women.  I admire their courage and creativity.