This week is the annual women’s refuge appeal week. Women’s refuges are desperately under-funded, the Wellington refuge gets less than half its money from government (and the amount they get is less than what Clint Rickards got paid for doing nothing last year). So I spent a few hours on the streets of Wellington trying to get money out of people. I quite like collecting, but not as much as I like collecting money
Starbucks was offering free drinks to collectors – I feel the same way about this as I do about the clothing industry raising money for refuge:
But I still took my free tea.
I expected more women than men to give money, but I would have expected two-thirds, or three-quarters. I’m obviously a ridiculous optimist, because one in ten of the donors was a man, maybe even one in fifteen.
I started to wonder about the women giving money. Was it solidarity that made them give? Or someone they knew? An insurance policy? A down-payment? Or just imagination?
Why did so many men not have this imagination? Why weren’t they putting money in the buckets for the women they knew? Their mothers, sisters, daughters, and friends who could need refuge?
I started muttering this at men who walked by without giving money – “You’re the problem, not me, not her, you, and you won’t even give me a dollar.”
There were some good experiences. I noticed a young guy hanging out in a T-shirt that said “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours” and rolled my eyes. But twenty minutes later him and his friend came and both gave some money.
My friend told me a story from collecting last year. A man gave twenty dollars, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Later he came back and asked her if she wanted a drink, because it was cold, and gave another ten dollars. Then he said “I just want you to know that not all sons turn out to be like their fathers.”
That’s where the hope is, I guess. The possibility of change.
“I started muttering this at men who walked by without giving money – ‘You’re the problem, not me, not her, you, and you won’t even give me a dollar.'”
Good idea. Pointing a finger with one hand and holding out your palm with another really works. Personally speaking, nothing makes me reach for my wallet and make a donation faster than a surly, hostile accuser trying to hold me accountable for things I’ve never done.
See, from a male perspective, myself as well as those I know, we don’t generally give to women’s organizations because they are the same ones that attempt to paint men as brutish and the rest of the negative imaging that the “few good ones” have to deal with and try to disprove every day.
Just from my observations, most men give to general admission or male shelters. It doesn’t really surprise me though, most people give to causes that they can associate themselves with. I don’t think this is inherently right or wrong, because on a basic level it makes sense. People like to think the money they are giving is going to a good cause, and what constitutes a good cause varies among each individual.
Maia,
Interesting anecdotes, particularly the one about the young man who returned. Thanks for sharing.
Did any of the men hear you and respond to this?
The only time I ever stood on a street and rattled a can to collect money for a cause was when I was 16, and it was for the Royal National Lifeboat, the UK equivalent to the coastguard. It was interesting, as a fairly attractive 16 year-old girl I got a fair few male contributions, the one that sticks on my mind was some jerk who thought it would be funny to slap the collection box out of my hand and cry “gimme yer money!”. When his strike succeeded in knocking the whole collection can out of my hand he looked shocked and ashamed, and, even at that young age, I remember thinking “what a prick, trying to impress a girl by assaulting her”. Moments later he came back with paper money for the can and a sheepishly apologetic look.
I feel a little bad when I pass by jar-rattler without giving, but I pick my charities and give online, because there are so many charities here in the US that SOUND like they are pro-woman and pro-child, and they turn out to be wingnut conservative antiabortion charities. I don’t put my change in the jars in case they turn out to be jars that fund the so called prolife movement.
I’ve been doing this for ten years soon, giving out leaflets, collecting money, running stalls. I know how to deal with the frustration of people’s reactions without them knowing (by the way if you’ve ever worn a Che Guevara T-shirt and not taken a political leaflet then the giver has sworn at you behind your back).
I didn’t write about the worst incident, when a bunch of guys came up to our table and said “hey ladies” (in a pick up tone of voice) and then said “we love women”
“I started muttering this at men who walked by without giving money – ‘You’re the problem, not me, not her, you, and you won’t even give me a dollar.’”
What did you say to women walking by without giving money?
I never give money to such collectors, there is a lot of scam and misuse going on with donated money. I give money only directly to poor people who really need my help.
I’m going to put on my economist’s hat for a moment.
If you only have a small amount of money to donate, there’s a pretty good argument that one should donate it all to a single charity.
http://www.slate.com/id/2034/
So, should I donate my $100 to domestic violence shelters or to, say, vaccination programs for poor Africans? (Yes, this is a bit of an unfair question, but someone has to decide on horrible questions like whether to spend X dollars on improving road safety or on improving public education.)