As a young American woman, I have an observation to make about our culture. I am constantly objectified and sexualized by older men who, throughout their lives, have been made to feel as though women exist only for them. Although I choose to surround myself with people who see all genders as equals, being sexually harassed never fails to burst my PC bubble - and living as a young woman in New York City, it certainly isn’t a rarity. In the summertime, I am catcalled almost every time I leave the house.

In the moment, fight-or-flight kicks in, but my decision is simple; despite the violation and all the rage that comes with it, it’s unsafe to engage with catcallers. I want to flip them the bird and speak my mind, but that could put me in danger. Yet, after every incident, I almost regret not responding. By staying silent, I feel I only play into my harassers’ idea of my role in society.

If I could write one letter to all of the men who have catcalled me, I would want to say something like this:

To The Men Whose Names I Do Not Know,

You did not compliment me. You sexually harassed me. I was not flattered by your words. I am not grateful to have caught your attention. You do not make yourself appear attractive, or available, but rather, you frighten the woman you call after. We cannot respond to you, because we are afraid you will assault us. We don’t engage, because all we want, more than for the interaction to be over, is for it to never have happened in the first place. Still, I’d like for you to know that your words were not lost in a void after they left your brutish lips. I still remember them, and they have taught me where I stand with men like you, who see me as less-than.

A few of you deserve special attention.

To a Manhattan taxi driver: It was 2008. While the honking was jarring, the good old fashioned “wink and shoot” was just as loud and clear. Did I really look older than twelve to you? Because I’d love to inform you that I was not. I was a child, and I was scared.

To the drunk, homeless-looking man who stumbled past me one night in May: Why was it not enough to just mumble “Damn, she got them big *ss t*tties” as I walked past you with my father and my boyfriend? As if there wasn’t anything more humiliating you could have said, you followed it with “Got milk?” No two words have ever stung like those did. I am not a cow. I am a person. I felt so violated, right in front of the two men I feel safest around. I began to cry as soon as you passed.

To the short, grey-haired man harassing every woman on the corner of 5th and Bay Ridge Avenue: Which did you see as a sexual invitation? The glasses, the ponytail, the three heavy bags I was carrying, the wide felt scarf wrapped around my torso, or that I was holding hands with my boyfriend? You couldn’t have possibly believed I looked “damn sexy” in that moment. After such a long, strenuous day, I couldn’t help myself but to say “Are you f*cking serious?” and you laughed at me.

There have been many more over the years, but they have all blurred into a single experience of feeling violated, afraid, and angry.

Often times I have blamed myself for your unwanted attention, even though my loved ones assure me that I shouldn’t. I find myself saying things like “I should have known this would happen if I wore shorts, I’m showing too much leg,” or “I’m catcalled every time I wear a white shirt - I just shouldn’t wear them anymore.” I have to remind myself that it isn’t my fault that I’m sexually harassed. It’s not my fault you are a pig. I can’t allow your disgusting behavior to be a deciding factor in what I put on my body. I will not let you control me.

I admit sometimes I get so “in my head” that I find myself unaware of my body. As strange as it sounds, I can forget that I have one. When you catcalled me, you reminded me that I am not a bodiless brain - that you saw me as a brainless body. I think what hurts me the most is that your treatment comes from taking me at face-value. You made me feel as though my personality and my life’s achievements - all the things that make me an individual person - were irrelevant.

To you, I was a pair of legs. Or breasts. Or a pretty face.

You didn’t see me as all the things that make me who I am. You didn’t see me as a person.

I’m not going to ask you, as many might suggest, how you would feel if someone acted as you did towards your own mother, your sister, or your daughter. I don’t feel the need remind you that I have a father, a brother, and a boyfriend. A good person doesn’t need to have a gay friend in order to not be homophobic, nor do they need to have a black friend in order to not be racist. I’m not asking for you to treat me as you treat the women in your life. Rather, I deserve the same amount of respect that you would want for yourself. I deserve the same level of respect that you give to the men you interact with on a daily basis, who you don’t view as sexual objects.

I’m not going to ask how you would feelif a woman catcalled you. If someone who looks like me were to yell sexual vulgarities at you, it wouldn’t have anywhere near the same effect. The comparison just isn’t fair, because you do not feel threatened by women (in fact, from your behavior, it’s quite clear that you feel power over us). You wouldn’t be concerned for your physical safety if I were a few paces behind you on a dimly-lit street. Instead, I’m going to ask you to think about being sexually harassed by a large, muscular gay man. Imagine that man grumbling “Hey there, sexy,” as you pass him on the street, salaciously watching your backside as you walk away.

I think in that scenario, you would feel violated, and uncomfortable, and embarrassed. I think you would want to say something, or do something - but imagine he can easily overpower you, or that he could have a weapon. Then you feel scared, and vulnerable, and helpless.

That is how you made me feel.

Do I think people like you can change? No. Catcalling is a consequence of being raised in a patriarchal society, and being taught that men are more powerful than women. However, I do have hope for the future. Slowly but surely, our society moves towards gender equality. I encourage parents to teach their children to view all people as just that - people, who have thoughts and feelings and stories. Then maybe one day, my daughter won’t ever have write a letter like this one.

Sincerely,

A Human Being