Hooters

I've never stepped foot in a Hooters, but I have a pretty good story to tell you about it.

Many years ago, as a marital therapist I saw a couple who had many problems, all we could fix, given much time and much patience, much dedication to the concept that they could be happily married. I'll change all the identifying details so that you know this is not about you or anyone you know.

He used to like the chicken wings, I think, at Hooters. She couldn't step foot in the place.

An educated person, a nurse, and a feminist, she believed that a woman showing off the top half of her body to take orders in a restaurant demeaned herself. She didn't like that he supported a business that enabled that to happen, the objectification of women.

If a woman's identity is basically the table she brings to the table, if she is judged by the size of a certain object of clothing, and admired for that, then she is diminished in every other way, that is who she is. We do this with men, too, judge them by the size of certain parts of their bodies, strong shoulders, you know. This is basically an insult to a person, confuses people about what should be important in maintaining successful relationships. It is not about size, actually, but communication, that makes for a good relationship. Clear, loving communication about what you need, what you want. That's the ticket.

Anyway, my patient told her husband that one day she wanted to have children, and she didn't want the father of her son or daughter to go to places like Hooters. She didn't want her kids to think that it's okay to ogle at women.

He didn't get it. He thinks it is normal, ogling at women. "All the guys do this, on the street, in their cars, at restaurants. And the food, by the way, is great at this place," he tells her.

She says to him, "It's demeaning to these women. They can't get other jobs, that's why they're at Hooters. They didn't have the benefit of an education. They didn't take a course in feminism or psychology. They don't know what is bad for them."

He says, "So it's good that there's a Hooters to hire them."

He misses the point.

The therapist intervenes, directs her spin on this to him.

"Say one day you do have a daughter, and she wants to work at Hooters. Is that okay? Any one of the customers might want to take her out after work, you know, maybe take her away from Hooters altogether. Maybe a customer can find her a better job, maybe one in pictures."

"No WAY!" he cries. "No daughter of mine is going to work there!"

And he stops spending his money at Hooters. Just like that.

Not sure, exactly, where he gets his chicken now.

Linda Freedman