One morning last week, I had to make a choice:

Should I wear this skirt?

It’s a choice many women must consider— not because we should have to, but because the world has forced this worry upon us. I wrote an article earlier this year about women being objectified, and as long as this abhorrent issue persists, I will keep writing about it, seething about it, because this is our lives.

Here’s a little backstory on this particular occasion. I started going to acupuncture at the beginning of the summer back at home in Denver, and when the time to leave for school approached in August, wanted to find somewhere I could continue going while at Santa Clara.

My wonderful mother found an awesome place only a mile-and-a-half away from the University. With it being so close, I started taking an Uber there and walking home. I love walking, and it’s a lovely walk.

I had an appointment over Thanksgiving break and was very excited to walk both there and back because I had the time to take it slow and enjoy it without worrying about getting back for a meeting or work or whatever else.

But I had to make that choice— Should I wear this skirt?

For those who don’t know a lot about acupuncture, there are points all over the body, and you never know where your acupuncturist will deem a needle necessary. Sometimes, it’s your stomach, or your thigh, and in such a case, pants or a dress aren’t very helpful. I learned over the summer that wearing loose clothing, and either a skirt or shorts, was the best option for the most convenient treatment at every visit.

So, on this day, I wanted to wear a skirt to my appointment. But, I knew I would be walking alongside busy roadways to get there and back, and I knew what was to come.

I knew I was going to be ogled, honked at, objectified while I walked on the sidewalk. But I wanted to wear my skirt.

So I did.

And I was ogled, honked at, and objectified. And so, so angry. Because I knew it would happen, and the world did not prove me wrong.

I looked into the eyes of the men who watched me as they turned the corner in their vehicles. Their gaze did not waver. I looked across the street into the eyes of the man who honked at me. His gaze did not waver.

I crossed the crosswalk to cut through the Safeway parking lot as an older man followed my legs across the asphalt. His head kept turning. I made my way clear across to the other side of the parking lot, and turned around, just to confirm what I already knew would be true:

He’s still watching.

Later that day, I went to work on homework at Starbucks, still clad in my skirt. Random man sitting near the window— I can see your eyes scanning my body. I can see you. I don’t appreciate your elongated eye contact on my way back from the bathroom. I was peeing, not trying to seduce you.

All of this due to one day in a skirt.

I am done with this. We are done with this. We deserve to walk on the side of the road without being salivated over like plates of food.

It’s a skirt, not an open invitation to become a plaything or a spectacle. Nobody stares at men when they wear shorts and walk down the sidewalk. Nobody honks at them for showing their legs.

I should be able to wear a skirt without becoming the roadway’s prime-time entertainment. And this is not a “me” problem, or a women’s issue, it’s a human issue. We aren’t going to stop talking about it until it stops.

Getting dressed in the morning shouldn’t cause anxiety. Walking in a grocery store parking lot shouldn’t cause anxiety. Existing as a woman shouldn’t cause anxiety. But it does.

Are we going to change that?