“Cat calling” is not “just a compliment.” “Locker room talk” is not “just a thing boys do.” I like my Urban dress. I like the way it fits, the way that it goes perfectly with nearly every pair of shoes I own. I don’t wear it for you. I wear it for me.
“Don’t touch me. I don’t know you. No, not even the whole ‘pat on the shoulder’ thing. Also; no I will NOT hug you, random dude. I don’t want to touch you.”
Because catcalling – all catcalling – shows an entitlement mindset.
“As I shopped, he walked past me and mumbled something. When I didn’t respond, he did it again. I figured he was selling drugs. I left with my porn. He followed me to my car.”
Why do you demand that women be good-looking when you’ve obviously never taken a look in the mirror?
The problem is we don’t like it. The problem is it freaks us out. The problem is we know what he really means when he says, “Keep smiling.”
Was it my ragged four-year-old Chuck Taylor’s that made you exclaim “Hey beautiful!” as I walked by? Or was it my sweater that was two sizes too large that urged you to give me the pet name “Baby Cakes”?
I have a usual reaction to strangers calling out to me on the street and giving me names I haven’t chosen, and don’t want, for myself. I’ve been conditioned to let them off with a heavy sigh and an eye roll.
I just want men to like me for my appearance.