I was wandering down the sidewalk on a sweltering day, enjoying the sunshine on my face as I headed back toward my apartment to get ready for work. I spotted a man stooped over on a bottom porch step, fiddling with something in his hands. I knew I would be hardly a foot away from him as I passed, and this thought instantly (almost instinctually) evoked a vague sense of unease.
I ignored it, reminding myself that there was no reason to prejudge and thinking that it was never fair to assume that any man I encountered would address me inappropriately. I continued ahead, losing myself in my thoughts again and almost forgetting the man. But as I went by, he startled me when he looked up and gave me a short “Hey, beautiful.” Without considering, I said hello back, reflexively being polite, then turned and kept walking, but felt his eyes still perusing me as I picked up the pace and hurried down the street.
He shouted to me, a distant “Come back here,” and an illegible string of other comments and profanities followed. I was struck with the fear that he would follow me to my door, which was practically within his line of sight, but thanked the broad daylight and the people surrounding us as witness. If it had been later, and darker, and emptier, the situation might have been different and even dangerous.
Doubt. Anxiety. Confusion. Fear. They’re feelings almost all women can identify with on a nearly daily basis, in coincidence with the unwavering stares, whispered comments, and loud offers that are leveled at them simply for walking down a street. I would like to say that as we always do, we women will turn our backs on mistreatment and disrespect, using our frustration with and intolerance for this ancient sexism to fuel our own empowerment and show the world our strength – and we do. But there comes a point when enough is enough, and I’m so exasperated with and disgusted by the way our bodies can be treated as a mere source of male pleasure and picked apart unapologetically on an otherwise ordinary day.
Because the truth is we are human just like you. Our bodies are sacred and treasured to us, but they are not for you. We are sisters and daughters and mothers, but these are not and should never be our labels in society. Why? Because we are individuals with unique, complex personalities, talents, passions, and feelings, just like you. We are more than your focus for the five seconds that you violate us with your words; we are independent, confident, courageous, and ambitious, and we deserve more than to feel watched and apprehensive everywhere we go.
I have been followed by men, honked at and insulted for not accepting a “compliment.” I have been harassed by men who slow down and even stop their cars by me, rolling down their windows to tell me what they think of me and ask to give me rides – even when I was a young girl in middle school. I have been held up at a toll booth by a man who asked if I had a boyfriend and delayed giving me my change because he wanted me to give him my number. Every day, I anticipate similar events and have grown so accustomed to them that I have practically lost all the feelings associated with being objectified.
But I will not allow this to happen anymore; I am calling on all my fellow women to unite with me in taking a stand. These experiences will never fully end for us, but if we begin an open conversation and share our own stories, we can show the world what we’re made of and what we won’t accept. Use the hashtag #NotForYou to give your own account of a time you were catcalled, how it affected you, and how you responded.
