Indeed, my time in Ghana was liberating. I was working as a contributing writer for a nonprofit organization, filming a documentary and spending lazy days at the beach. Yet, what was most inspiring was the women with whom I found myself surrounded throughout my daily activities. These women were my professors. They were cultural activists. They were mothers. They were curators. They were lovers. They were writers. I saw myself in them and I let my guard was down.
But there were no cat calls, there were no suitors. And I missed that. I had flown all the way around the world to this land of power and I found myself missing the bugaboo on the corner tryna talk. I missed how smooth an ay yo ma! sounded on the hottest day of the summer. Yes, I missed the game.
— The cat call (as understood by a twenty something year old Denise Huxtable wannabe)