My Name Is Max Reddick, and I Peek at Booties

"I like big butts and I cannot lie

You other brothers can't deny

That when a girl walks in with a itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face,

You get sprung!"

Sir Mix-a-lot, "Baby Got Back"

My name is Maxwell Reddick. I have been married just a little over seventeen years now, and never have I been unfaithful to my wife. Now, I have been to the strip club about three times over the course of that seventeen years, but it was early in my marriage and only because I foolishly gave in to peer pressure. But I did not enjoy myself. And oh yeah, I sometimes peek at booties. Am I so wrong?

Yesterday afternoon my sister, the resident black feminist, and I were sitting in the food court of the local mall enjoying some ice cream when I spotted this very attractive, very well-dressed sister coming toward me. We made eye contact, and she smiled and nodded at me, and I smiled and nodded back. And just as she passed, I peeked at her booty out of the corner of my eye. And it was a very nice booty indeed.

Well, my sister stopped mid-sentence and followed my gaze to the said booty. She then pronounced me a nasty bastard, gathered her things and headed for the exit.

I must say, I was really shocked. I have been peeking at booties for a while now, at least since my mid-teens, and I never saw it as so wrong. In fact, my uncle used to say, “It’s okay to look at the pretty ponies. But the trouble comes when you try to mount them and ride them.”

Not only that, I have standards. For instance, I don’t peek at booties at church. And I don’t peek at my boss’ booty. That would be disrespectful. I don’t peek at the booties of my friends’ and colleagues’ wives and girlfriends unless I suspect them of being a less than virtuous. I don't peek at booties when I am with my wife and/or children. I don't peek at the booties of my female friends. And I just peek, not outright ogle.

My sister informed me that peeking at booties was just another form of objectifying women, turning them into sexual objects. I know all about the objectification of women, but I did not realize that what I was doing was that deep. I just thought I was merely peeking at poot-shooters. Most black men peek at booties, don’t they? Maybe it’s something in our genes.

But if it is indeed wrong, I just want to say that I meant no disrespect by it. And I will cease with all due haste. But keep in mind, I’ve been peeking at booties most of my life, and I’ll have to wean myself gradually. Maybe there’s a patch or something like cigarette smokers use to quit that I can wear. What about an eyepatch?

Sisters, and my sister, if I have offended you, I sincerely apologize and promise to try to do better.

Is peeking at booties wrong?