Archives for October 2014

“Damn girl, is all that yours? Let me get some, just a little bit. I’ll marry you!”

It was the year 2000. I was 19. I was walking down 4th Avenue in Brooklyn. I was wearing a black shirt and jeans. A man yelled those words at me. He spoke to me as if I were holding a delicious piece of cake in my hands. Only, it wasn’t food he was after. He was commenting on my body. As he yelled these words down the city block I was mortified. His two friends that were standing next to him slapped him five while they laughed and whistled at me. I folded my arms over my breasts to try (unsuccessfully) to cover them. I can still hear the words in my mind.

Let me get some, just a little bit.

I felt my face become hot with embarrassment.

I’ve heard the argument that women should be “flattered” when men yell these sorts of compliments at them as they’re walking down a city street. Personally, I just wanted to get to the store and buy a coffee. I wasn’t looking for unsolicited comments on my body.

When I saw the viral video where a woman strolls around New York City for 10 hours and is relentlessly catcalled, I reflected upon my own experiences where men shouted pick up lines at me. Immediately I was 19 years-old again, standing on that street corner, feeling anything but flattered. I was holding the tears back from streaming down my face.

Is that all yours?

I needed to wait just five more minutes until I could get home. I would change my top. Then I could feel less self conscious about my breasts. This wasn’t the first time I’d been verbally harassed on the street and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. I started wearing baggy hooded sweatshirts after that when I’d go out at night.

I’ll marry you!

That was 1999.

It’s 2014 now, and nothing has changed.

Many men still think that it’s appropriate to try to “get to know a woman,” by talking to her/about her like she’s a delectable pastry. A woman is not a human being to these men, she is an object, she is something to conquer, to devour, to take over entirely.

Women are humans.

We are not objects.

We are people.

We deserve respect.

We deserve to walk down a city block without commentary on what we are wearing.

We are entitled to board a subway car without listening to comments about our breasts or our behinds.

So please, the next time you think about speaking to a woman like she’s a piece of food, check yourself, go to a diner and have a slice of apple pie instead.

J.C. Hannigan is a novelist that writes plot driven romance and suspense novels. Collide is her first novel.

Tell us about Collide.

Collide is about a broken girl who has closed herself off from the world around her…until she falls hard for her 12th grade English teacher. He is drawn to her too, and they embark on a forbidden pathway…a relationship with one another. Harlow finds herself in a situation where she has to decide whether to risk it all to do the right thing, or keep silent to protect her relationship.

What inspired you to write Collide?

This is a tough question to answer…the essence of a broken girl and a forbidden relationship. I was inspired by secrets and pain and learning to love and let people in.

Describe Harlow in one sentence.

Harlow is reactive and guarded, but she is also compassionate and brave…she isn’t a doormat and she won’t let corrupt police scare her away from doing the right thing, even if it puts her relationship and creditability at risk.

Describe Iain in three words.

Delicious. Conflicted. Caring.

You meet Harlow in a cafe. What is she drinking and why?

Coffee. Harlow suffers from insomnia and is often exhausted.

Where can we get a copy of Collide?

You can purchase for Kindle (http://tinyurl.com/collideus) and Kobo (http://tinyurl.com/collidekobo)

Watch the Collide trailer made by the amazing Sarah Fader here!

Once I reach 400 likes on my Facebook page; I will be doing a giveaway.

Author page http://facebook.com/jcahannigan
Twitter http://twitter.com/jcahdavis

This morning my 3 and 3/4 year old daughter and I were about to leave the house to get on New Jersey Transit for visit a dear friend of mine. She came racing down the hallway with a giant pink suitcase.

“You can’t take that with you. It’s too big for the bus.” I told her. “We’re only going for one day.

“I want to take Ana.” She whined referring to her doll from the Disney smash hit, Frozen. I took a deep breath in and told her “you can take Ana, but put her in your backpack instead.” She cried and stomped her feet.

“No! I want this!” She insisted pointing to the gigantic suitcase. I continued to breathe and repeated myself:

“You can take Ana in your backpack.”

She whined and cried for a few minutes and then suddenly, she stopped.

“Where’s my backpack?” She inquired with a pouted lip. My muscles relaxed, and I sighed with relief. Then it hit me. When she was screaming about the damn pink suitcase I thought it was going to go on forever. She was never going to give it up. We would be standing there for all eternity staring into the zipper of that pink travel bag.

But she stopped. She relented. I realized what had changed. It wasn’t her, it was me.

I rode the waves.

I breathed in and out.

I waited for the crying to stop. I waited for her to realize that she was not going to get her way. We were leaving with a backpack, not a suitcase. But to accomplish this feat, I needed to remain focused and calm.

I thought about the ocean.

When you’re swimming in the unpredictable ocean, you don’t have a choice as to what the wave is going to do. You’re either going to get knocked down by that sucker or you ride it. You ride it like your life is at stake.

That’s what a tantrum is. A child’s tantrum is an ocean wave. It feels formidable. It might knock you down. Your only choice is to stand strong and ride that emotional wave until it settles.

We opened the door, her pink backpack on her back and my blue purse on my shoulder and headed for the A train to Port Authority.

Sunday 2:00pm

My six year old son Ari started crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked

” I really want to see Equestria Girls 2. You said we could see it today.”

It was true. I did tell him that we would see this My Little Pony based film on a Sunday. Unfortunately, when I searched online for where it was playing near us, I only came up with one movie theater: Bayonne Jersey at 3pm. It was now 2:05pm.

We live in Brooklyn and I have no sense of time so I called the movie theater and asked them how long it would take to get to Bayonne.

“Hi, how long will it take to get to Bayonne from Brooklyn?” I asked the movie theater person on the other end. “Is there any chance we can make the 3pm show of Equestria Girls 2? Are there still tickets left?”

“Oh yeah, you’ll probably miss the first 10 minutes but you’ll make it. I’ve only sold a couple of tickets so you’re fine.”

He went on to give me directions to the theater that involved taking the PATH train and some other mysterious train called “the light rail.” So at 2:10pm I threw some socks and shoes on Ari and Samara and we were out the door.

We took the 3 train into the city and got off at The World Trade Center to get on the PATH train. There was one problem, the PATH train wasn’t running this weekend! As soon as we got to the station there was a man in a uniform shaking his head with a serious expression. I started to sweat. We could not miss this movie. I couldn’t deal with more tears.

“We’re trying to get to Bayonne! Is there another way to get there?” I asked frantically.

“Yeah. You can take the ferry. Just walk straight.”

Well, “just walk straight” was an extremely vague direction considering the fact that it was physically impossible to do so. We ran into scaffolding and shit load of tourists who kept looking up and preventing us from walking “straight.” We managed to wade through the non-native New Yorkers and get to the ferry dock.

Ari, Samara and I hopped aboard the ferry when Samara announced: “I have to pee!” There was another problem. The ferry did not have a bathroom.

“Just hold it. We’ll find a bathroom when we get off the ferry.” I reassured her and myself, for that matter.

“Okay!” She said going with the flow (or against the flow) thank goodness.

As soon as we got to New Jersey I had no idea where to go next. So I asked some natives who were wearing running shorts and carrying iced coffees where this thing called “the light rail” was. Thankfully they lead us in the right direction.

3:05pm

“Mommy, are we gonna make the movie?” Ari asked nervously.

“I think so.” I said calculating that we would still probably make the majority of the film just missing the previews. I looked at the light rail train schedule. It told me that there was a train coming in 10 minutes.

“Mommy, I have to pee SO badly.” Samara said.

SHIT! I forgot about that.

There was still no bathroom in site, so I found a decent corner where she could pee. She’s only 3. Of course seeing Samara pee outside, Ari wanted to do the same thing.

“Mommy, I have to pee SO badly.” He said, trying to convince me.

“You can wait until we get to the movie theater.” I told him.

Finally the light rail came and we got on. It seemed like forever but we finally arrived at our stop. Some nice teenagers pointed us in the direction of the South Cove Stadium 12 Theater.

3:37pm

We purchased our tickets and went inside to watch Equestria Girls 2. I asked the clerk behind the glass how much we had missed.

“It’s about 15 minutes into the show.” She reassured us.

The kids loved the movie and were dancing along to all the songs. But when it ended Ari had a sad expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked

“I really wanted to see the whole thing.” He said looking as if he might cry.

When the credits ended I had an idea. One of the ushers came into the theater to begin cleaning up.

“Hi, can I asked you a question?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“What time is the next showing in this theater?”

He opened a spreadsheet that he had in his pants pocket.

“Not until 7:25pm. Why? What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you could do us a favor,” I began tentatively “We came all the way from Brooklyn and we missed the first 15 minutes of the show. Would it be possible to watch the beginning of the movie again?”

“Sure,” He said with a wink “No problem, I’ll tell the guy to reset it from the beginning.”

I couldn’t believe how nice he was. When I told Ari and Samara the news that they were going to get to watch the movie one more time, they were so excited. I explained to them that this was extremely rare occurrence and that we should thank the movie theater usher for being so generous, and we did profusely!

The exodus from Brooklyn to Bayonne was made complete by smiling children at the end of the journey.