To the guy calling me baby on the street corner…
I don’t know what it is about me [other than the fact that I have all the parts that make me female] that somehow says “You have permission to say whatever you want to me”.
It’s like all women have this giant stamp on our foreheads saying “access granted”.
As if being female gives men the
Newsflash: IT DOESN’T.
A couple weeks ago I stayed after class to talk to my professor and, thanks to the time change, it was quite dark by the time I finally started to walk across campus back to my car. It’s a decent enough walk as long as the weather is good and only takes about 15 minutes or so to get to my car. Because it was after 7, it was a pretty dark walk with only the dim lighting from lamps strategically placed across campus. During my walk I kept checking over my shoulder, careful not to cut corners or drift off too close to bushes or other parts of campus where a person could snatch me. Wait. Snatch me? Why was I even thinking about that? The fact that my brain is so conscious of how I walk back to my car sickens me. Even worse is what happened when I got up to the crosswalk.
When it was time to cross the big 4 lane, I had to wait for
a while for the crosswalk sign. A guy briskly ran to catch up with me, out of
nowhere. At first I wasn’t alarmed because I figured he was trying to make sure
he didn’t miss the walk sign if it appeared. Right up until he started talking
to me...
“Hey baby how’s it going? Where you headed tonight?”
Baby? Did he just call me baby? Do I look like an infant?
“Home.”
“Ahh I see baby. You sure you don’t have other plans tonight?”
Ohmygod is he seriously still talking to me right now?
“Yep.”
[At this point I’m leaning into the post, pressing that crosswalk button over and over again]
“Aw honey I think you could find more exciting things to do.”
“I doubt it.”
“Hey baby how’s it going? Where you headed tonight?”
Baby? Did he just call me baby? Do I look like an infant?
“Home.”
“Ahh I see baby. You sure you don’t have other plans tonight?”
Ohmygod is he seriously still talking to me right now?
“Yep.”
[At this point I’m leaning into the post, pressing that crosswalk button over and over again]
“Aw honey I think you could find more exciting things to do.”
“I doubt it.”
And this is where panic mode starts to kick in. I’m leaning
into the post, holding the button and he leans into my back, closer than any
person should probably stand, and I swear on my life he sniffed my hair. He.
Sniffed. My. HAIR!
All the while I’m standing there, picturing the mace that is still in the front seat of my car from when I dumped my bag out earlier in a hurry.
As soon as the walk sign appeared I walked briskly and jutted down to my car like my pants were on fire. Thankfully, he didn’t follow.
And that’s the thing. Was he dangerous? I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe he just likes the way hair smells and is just overly friendly and wasn’t taught appropriate social cues as a child.
I could probably live with this……if it were an isolated incident….
All the while I’m standing there, picturing the mace that is still in the front seat of my car from when I dumped my bag out earlier in a hurry.
As soon as the walk sign appeared I walked briskly and jutted down to my car like my pants were on fire. Thankfully, he didn’t follow.
And that’s the thing. Was he dangerous? I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe he just likes the way hair smells and is just overly friendly and wasn’t taught appropriate social cues as a child.
I could probably live with this……if it were an isolated incident….
Tonight, after class, I stayed after with my professor
discussing my research project, and then started walking to my car again after
dark. This time a guy walked up behind me at the crosswalk and followed me all
the way to my car, and THAT
conversation was oh so enlightening…
“Hey there sweetheart!”
Oh good. I was worried I’d get to walk in solitude.
[I don’t respond]
“Come on honey don’t be like that”
Seriously? I don’t even know this guy. Why the pet names?
[I continue walking]
“You looking good tonight. I like that jacket.”
[I nod and give a slight smile]
“Aww there we go sugar.”
Oh sweet jesus that wasn’t an invitation!
“Wanna come hang out tonight?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“Nah I think you should.”
“Nope. I’m good.”
And here is where I get to learn a great, fascinating thing about myself!
“Fine bitch. No one wants to hangout with a slut like you anyway.”
Wowwwww. So because I don't want to hangout with some random stranger and I don't feel like being chatty cathy, I'm now both a bitch AND a slut. Well this has been an enlightening evening.
(He walks away)
This is my absolute FAVORITE thing about some of the men in our society. Because somehow they have convinced themselves that we are required to interact with them no matter WHAT they say or HOW they say it! Like because they have a penis, they’re allowed to call us weird pet names and then get mad and call us hateful names if we don’t respond in the “correct” fashion.
Cat calling is one of the most threatening things to a woman. Sure, sometimes it might be cute and flattering and we might even laugh a little bit, but we absolutely do NOT need a man’s validation and we certainly don’t have to respond to a single word they say.
So to the men who have decided to call me “baby”, “sweetheart”, “honey”, “sugar”, “sexy”, or yell out some comment about my ass or my boobs or how I’m walking or smiling or blinking or running away from you, I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT HAVE TO RESPOND TO YOU!!!
You are ruining the very nicknames my own significant other uses and you’re tainting them. I want to rip them from your voicebox and throw them away. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to call out pet names at me like I’m yours. Because, I. Am. Not. YOURS.
I’M NOT FREAKING YOURS! And neither is any other woman who’s out walking late at night.
I shouldn’t have to walk across campus with pepper spray in my pocket, and I shouldn’t have to check around corners and look over my shoulder.
I have been hollered at from street corners, parking lots, in the middle of Walmart, in the mall, at a basketball game, at the pool, at the gym, at the park (WHILE BABYSITTING), at the grocery store, driving down the road in my car, at stoplights, outside my house……the list never ends. I have had funny, cute things hollered at me and I’ve had horrible, vile, degrading things hollered at me.
So to the guy who decides to cat call me, DON’T. Just don’t. It doesn’t make me feel safe. It doesn’t make anyone feel safe.
Do you even know what it’s like to be a woman? How scary it is to know that you’re more than likely weaker than anyone who could possibly attack you? To constantly have to worry about possibly getting raped? To get dressed to go out, conscious of the POSSIBILITY of rape?? Do you even know what that’s like???
1 in 5 women have been sexually assaulted and over 19% of women in college experience sexual assault.
So that means that out of every 5 women walking across campus tonight, one of them has been a victim of sexual assault.
So excuse me for not responding to your comments and wanting to go “hangout” with you and I’m sorry that I have the right to say NO or to NOT RESPOND to anything you say to me. That doesn’t make me a bitch and it certainly doesn’t make me a slut. I am a woman and I’m not owned by you or any other man.
Women are not here for visual pleasure. We are not walking pinups. We don’t need validation and we’re not here for your amusement. Women are HUMAN BEINGS. We are not animals at the zoo. Stop looking. Stop cat calling. Just. STOP.
Safety first, ladies. Be careful.
“Hey there sweetheart!”
Oh good. I was worried I’d get to walk in solitude.
[I don’t respond]
“Come on honey don’t be like that”
Seriously? I don’t even know this guy. Why the pet names?
[I continue walking]
“You looking good tonight. I like that jacket.”
[I nod and give a slight smile]
“Aww there we go sugar.”
Oh sweet jesus that wasn’t an invitation!
“Wanna come hang out tonight?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“Nah I think you should.”
“Nope. I’m good.”
And here is where I get to learn a great, fascinating thing about myself!
“Fine bitch. No one wants to hangout with a slut like you anyway.”
Wowwwww. So because I don't want to hangout with some random stranger and I don't feel like being chatty cathy, I'm now both a bitch AND a slut. Well this has been an enlightening evening.
(He walks away)
This is my absolute FAVORITE thing about some of the men in our society. Because somehow they have convinced themselves that we are required to interact with them no matter WHAT they say or HOW they say it! Like because they have a penis, they’re allowed to call us weird pet names and then get mad and call us hateful names if we don’t respond in the “correct” fashion.
Cat calling is one of the most threatening things to a woman. Sure, sometimes it might be cute and flattering and we might even laugh a little bit, but we absolutely do NOT need a man’s validation and we certainly don’t have to respond to a single word they say.
So to the men who have decided to call me “baby”, “sweetheart”, “honey”, “sugar”, “sexy”, or yell out some comment about my ass or my boobs or how I’m walking or smiling or blinking or running away from you, I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT HAVE TO RESPOND TO YOU!!!
You are ruining the very nicknames my own significant other uses and you’re tainting them. I want to rip them from your voicebox and throw them away. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to call out pet names at me like I’m yours. Because, I. Am. Not. YOURS.
I’M NOT FREAKING YOURS! And neither is any other woman who’s out walking late at night.
I shouldn’t have to walk across campus with pepper spray in my pocket, and I shouldn’t have to check around corners and look over my shoulder.
I have been hollered at from street corners, parking lots, in the middle of Walmart, in the mall, at a basketball game, at the pool, at the gym, at the park (WHILE BABYSITTING), at the grocery store, driving down the road in my car, at stoplights, outside my house……the list never ends. I have had funny, cute things hollered at me and I’ve had horrible, vile, degrading things hollered at me.
So to the guy who decides to cat call me, DON’T. Just don’t. It doesn’t make me feel safe. It doesn’t make anyone feel safe.
Do you even know what it’s like to be a woman? How scary it is to know that you’re more than likely weaker than anyone who could possibly attack you? To constantly have to worry about possibly getting raped? To get dressed to go out, conscious of the POSSIBILITY of rape?? Do you even know what that’s like???
1 in 5 women have been sexually assaulted and over 19% of women in college experience sexual assault.
So that means that out of every 5 women walking across campus tonight, one of them has been a victim of sexual assault.
So excuse me for not responding to your comments and wanting to go “hangout” with you and I’m sorry that I have the right to say NO or to NOT RESPOND to anything you say to me. That doesn’t make me a bitch and it certainly doesn’t make me a slut. I am a woman and I’m not owned by you or any other man.
Women are not here for visual pleasure. We are not walking pinups. We don’t need validation and we’re not here for your amusement. Women are HUMAN BEINGS. We are not animals at the zoo. Stop looking. Stop cat calling. Just. STOP.
Safety first, ladies. Be careful.
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