By now, I’m sure a lot of you have already ready the story of the woman that threatened on the train because she didn’t want to talk to the psycho about whatever book she was reading. If you haven’t read it, here you go.
I’m always curious to know how people feel about catcalling and similar behavior (not like the crazy guy in the article above). Some women think it’s demeaning and hate it, and some women actually like it. I have not, however, heard of a situation where catcalling actually “worked,” as in, the woman turned around and said “hey, you have a fine butt, too! Let’s go grab a beer.” It always struck me as kind of like the dog chasing a car: what are you going to do with it once you got it?
Whenever I read stories like the one above (or ones not nearly as awful as that) and read all the comments about it,I get frustrated because people seem to think that there needs to be a consensus, that everyone needs to agree on how a catcall should make a woman feel, either good or bad. I think that’s ridiculous (and a little offensive). I can see how even a catcall can be intimidating (especially to someone who has been victimized in the past) but also think that the price of living in a society is that you are going to have to hear some unpleasant things. There’s a line that should never be crossed, but it’s hard to say where that line is and it varies by person and situation.
I also always want to share my best story of getting hit on but I don’t want to distract from the online conversations. So, I’m going to share it here. What else is a blog for if not to navel gaze? I was living in New York City and riding the subway. A man with a sketch pad set next to me. Since I’m nosy, I tried to see what he was drawing. I can’t remember what it was. I think he was making a comic of some sort. But then I saw he wrote, as I was watching, “what’s your name, sexy?” in the corner of the page nearest me. Being a socially awkward young adult that was not at all used to male attention, I quickly turned away to stare at my feet and turned bright red. A few minutes later, I was almost at my stop. I put away whatever I was reading and started to stand up. On the corner of his page, he had written “bye, have a nice day.”