I had just come from two of my classes, one of which I received a 100 percent on a stats assignment. I found out that one of my photos was reposted to a bigger account on Instagram and I got an email with a future opportunity I could only dream of. And it was only 10:30 a.m. on a Monday morning.

Dressed in my favorite Nike sneakers and my coveted black men's t-shirt from Forever21, I crossed out of NYU territory from Washington Square Park towards SoHo, taking Mercer one building at a time.

I turned the corner eventually onto Spring Street and one of my headphones sloppily fell out of my ear. As I waited for the walking signal to change and the traffic to slow, I had my head down, untangling the seemingly impossible entanglement of wires.

But then I heard a whistle. The type of whistle people not from New York do when they want to grab a taxi and have no idea that that is not a common practice and they look incredibly stupid. The type of whistle that you do when you're in your muddy backyard with your family dog and you want to play fetch. The type of whistle you let out in the slew of a sports event, which is inevitably lost in the crowd.

Yet, it was just directed at me on the corner of Spring Street. The man's arm lazily swung outside the car window and his mouth was curled in smirk that warranted a slap. His car turned the corner, but his head still stuck out of the car- following me, laughing at me, whistling at me, eventually saying, "Damn, girl."

I wasn't some taxi that he was trying to stop; I wasn't an animal that can't understand words; I wasn't some linebacker on a football field; I am a person. Why am I being objectified and cut down to a stupid, demeaning whistle?

Out of all the things I accomplished on that Monday morning, I was cut up into objectified pieces of meat that just warranted a whistle. No matter how many As I got or interviews I landed or emails I sent, it would still only matter how good my ass looks in leggings. Right?

And that's how I felt on Spring Street that morning. No matter how hard I tried to deflect disrespect from my physical appearance or the fact that I was a woman, it would still happen. I would still be whistled at with not even a pinch of respect.

Normally, my future goals consist of going to a top law school, affording to have a big backyard with even bigger dogs and not caring if I got a small or medium coffee form the corner spot. But how can I even begin to think about the big picture when I'm still struggling on not being harassed for walking down the street?