“Smile!” — The Courteous Cat-Caller’s Compliment
I worked in New York City for 7 years and was complimented and insulted in one breath every single morning on my way to a job that paid me less than a man with equal skills to mine. Some will read that sentence and continue, nodding along because that is a perfectly plausible statement in their experience, and others will brush it off as feminist hyperbole depending on which perspective suits them best. Regardless of perspective this is a commonality for women. That is not to say that New York is to blame, this is a cultural trend that we have slowly been desensitized to, taught to walk on the other side of the street, or keep headphones in and avoid eye contact to skip the hassle. We consider our outfits in the morning, trying to pick something that will not attract attention. Yet, bundled up in 30 degree weather, slacks and snow boots (pumps are at work), we are still greeted with kissing noises and crude comments on what is underneath our coats, regardless of our precautions. Dressing as to not “provoke” men is perpetuating a culture of sexual abuse, and it has to stop.
The largest study of its kind has shown that 84% of women, across 22 countries, are experiencing street harassment before the age of 17, and 99% of women as a whole have experienced street harassment in some form. In the US, street harassment led 72% of women to take different transportation to avoid sexual harassment, and 80% in other countries to change their clothes to avoid abuse. (The Telegraph — Cornell University study of 16,607 women)
The fact that “catcalling” is such a common occurrence is disheartening to not only women, but to the abundance of men who are respectful and supportive of women, and who are being represented by this (hopeful) minority. However, as this issue still exists, it is an unfortunate truth that there is a significant group of men who feel that women are expected to be grateful that a man — any man — finds her attractive enough to demean her in public. That in itself may sound preposterous, but it is a much too habitual and brutal truth. Worse even that some women ARE complimented by a whistle or a drive-by commentary on their physical appearance. This is how they have been trained to be valued — by their looks. This is brushed off as “guy talk” or some form of “male bonding,” and we as women are told to get a sense of humor. We have been socialized to accept these behaviors as “compliments,” and if we dare to object to this blatant objectification, we are deemed ungrateful. If we respond with anger, we are body-shamed and treated as an ungrateful, unattractive bitch — indicating that the go-to insult to give a woman is that she is too outspoken and not worthy of respect.
How is it that women grow and birth all of the humans in existence, sacrifice their bodies, health, and sanity at times to give life, yet they are still simply judged as objects whose purpose to be aesthetically pleasing? If this simple question makes me a “bleeding heart liberal” or “radical feminist,” so be it. Feminist has become an extremist, radical, dirty word — because females have been deemed far too “emotional,” or “illogical” to have strong opinions. Example: If a man calls out that he’d like to eat lunch off your ass, and you respond with “Go f#$@ yourself,” you are clearly guilty of making a scene and making something out of nothing. This needs to change.
I too watched in horror as the 2017 unfolded leaving our President-Elect on a throne of much needed change. The country was so desperate for reform, that it divided itself and appointed a person who is the face of inequality in an attempt to invoke change. I went up to the bar with a girlfriend, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, and fear in my heart for my future. That’s when I heard my most distained cat-call of all:
“Smile.”
My access to proper healthcare, equality of pay, human rights, the country’s moral compass, foreign relations and humanity were all at stake, and this stranger’s main concern was that I smile. And not just smile, but smile at and for him, imploring me to change my feelings to suit his needs. I clenched my jaw and took a sip of my wine and responded, “No. I guess I’m just a Nasty Woman.”
