Whistling with your fingers
"The art of manliness"
It was my dad who first taught me how to whistle with my fingers. I had picked up how to whistle pretty easily as a kid - pucker your lips, curl your tongue and blow - but when I first saw my dad use his fingers to whistle, the far superior sound fascinated me. I wanted to be able to call anything to attention in that way. It took time but I watched as my dad showed me how to bend my tongue, then position my fingers above the tongue so that a small pocket of air was able to flow through that space. Patiently I practiced, lots of spit was spat, sometimes dribble, but eventually I got it. The thrill of hearing that first piercing sound slice through the air filled me with sheer joy. I got so good at it that I had two variations. One using two hands - four fingers - and the other using one hand - my thumb and forefinger. My father was very impressed.
My dad was an Argentine male and therefore embodied South American machismo. Men were men and women were women. He hesitated to teach me too much about how to maintain a car. He taught my brother much more about cars. I could just call the NRMA. He was a musician, an accordion player of Tangos in the bars of Buenos Aires. This is where he learned that men are men and women are women. The Tango teaches you that. Just watch the way the man handles the woman and how the woman submits, pushes back, and the frenetic fighting and twirling propels the dancers.
So I was surprised when he taught me how to whistle with my fingers. My mother thought it was crass and very unladylike to stick your fingers in your mouth, call attention to yourself and make such an objectionable sound. When once I looked up “How to whistle with your fingers”, I found a website called “The art of manliness”. I didn’t click on the link but I guess manliness means learning how to whistle with your fingers - perhaps how to wolf-whistle? But my dad seemed to enjoy teaching me the skill and passing it on to me.
When I was living in Argentina I would sometimes whistle for a taxi. Men glared at me but I loved the strength that I felt reversing expectations and gender norms. I loved being unladylike in a macho culture. I still wonder if that’s why I learned to whistle in the first place as a kid - I wanted to learn how to be “manly”, I wanted to invade the male space at a young age, perhaps connect with my father in some way. I have wondered since my father’s passing whether he was in some way also subverting gender roles - whether he found this amusing, provocative or rebellious.
These days I still whistle when I want to command attention. I was yoo-hooing at a construction site recently because there was a truck parked in the way of my garage and my car could not get through. Yoo-hooing did not help so I got out of my car, put my fingers in my mouth in a very unladylike way and emitted the shrill sound I’ve come to love. The end of whistle pitch is higher than the beginning - kind of like a vocalised tick. Perfect. Two young men stuck their heads out of the building window bemused. Sorry love, they said. No worries guys, but I can’t get through. One of them slapped his forehead. My boss will come down right away. An older man emerged - “See what I have to put up with?” he said. We all laughed. I felt manly, feminine, strong and gentle at the same time.
When I was in the park with my dog Molly we were both running, playing and chasing birds. Molly ran much farther than I expected and I felt a little anxious. I called her to come but she kept running. Molly! So then I whistled. She stopped in her tracks, looked and darted towards me. Like magic. It felt so satisfying. And it made me remember my dad.
When my young nieces first heard me whistle like that they looked at me wide-eyed. How did you do that? So I’m now trying to teach them the manly and unladylike practice of whistling with your fingers.