Walking in My Shoes (another retro post)

So after all that's happened recently, I think I should put up another Retro Post for Justice. This one gives a tiny tiny glimpse into my and many other women's everyday lives. No joke, no bullshit - just straight up trying to make you listen. Don't get defensive or butthurt about it, because I'm not putting you on the defensive here. All I'm trying to do is speak my story that gets brushed off by people who think that sexism isn't a problem or their problem any more. I hope I show you that that's not the case by a long shot.

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Here are some things that the average woman can look forward to experiencing in her lifetime (conjectured from a lot of experience and storytime with women I know):

• Catcalls from guys in cars when you wear a miniskirt.


• Catcalls from guys in cars when you wear jeans and a T-shirt.


• Catcalls from guys in cars when you wear anything at all, really, and happen to be walking to the library/grocery store/bus stop/anywhere at all.


• At least one guy at the bar who doesn’t understand “no”. "C'mon, please, it won’t hurt, just a few more drinks, you’d really like me.” No, because I certainly don’t like you now, so why should my opinion change in five minutes?


• Men staring at your boobs and not at your face constantly.


• Unlimited unsolicited comments about the size/shape of your breasts and/or ass from guys. Any guys. They might be your friends, they might not be. And it will be said to your face.


• That “friendly” hand on your ass from your friendly neighborhood creep.


• Some dude who doesn’t understand boundaries and insists on putting his hands all over you when you’re like, “Um, who the hell are you?” Mostly found at clubs, but can also be friends of a friend, someone you’ve barely met, or some dude in a crowded public space.


• Being told you’re a frigid prude with a repressed sexuality because you don’t like unsolicited comments and/or gropage.


• Being told you’re a cocktease because you are “dressed for it” and you don’t want unsolicited comments and/or gropage.


• That really creepy guy who doesn’t understand why you don’t want to let him touch you and freaks you out really badly.


• Telling a police officer that a man is not leaving you alone and you’re a little scared now and being told that he has more important things to deal with than your standards for men.


• Hearing this statement: “I bet if Johnny Depp were the one asking random girls to fuck him in the parking lot of a university campus, those girls who were saying ‘eww’ to the regular guy would jump all over him!” Uh, no, I would still be scared and I would still tell the cops and hope to god they listen to me.


• Getting scared because some guy is getting really angry that you aren’t saying “yes, please grope and fuck me now”.


• Having a man take you out on a date and paying for dinner, then letting you know that you owe him sex because he paid. (Newsflash: I don’t owe you anything, asswipe.)


• Being told by a lot of men (not all, but a lot) that all of the above is “a compliment, jeez, can’t you just take a compliment and move on?”

Ever since I was fourteen, I have known all of this and more. I have been called a fine piece of ass (by people who didn’t know me or who had just been introduced to me), a tease, a slut, a whore, a frigid bitch, and numerous other epithets. At fifteen a friend that I had just really got to know dubbed my breasts “boobles” because they were too small for his taste, and I got that nearly every single day of my sophomore year of high school. I have not yet made a trip to the library that hasn’t had a truck full of thirtysomething year old men honking and whistling at me involved. Guys have called me names and more for saying, “Sorry, but no thanks.” I have been felt up at clubs too often for me to list. And on one memorable occasion, I was pushed into doing something that ended in a paralyzed Dominique frozen next to the window of a car, getting fondled by a skeevy, sketchy guy that scared the crap out of me, and my friends knew about it, and they didn’t do a damn thing to help me. That guy robbed me of my feeling of security. He stole my assumption that if I said no, he would stop. And he took away the idea that if I spoke up, my then-best friend would help me.

I know that my experiences pale in comparison to some, and I know that they also exceed what some others have experienced. This does not make them any less true. I’m not exaggerating any of this. In fact, I’ve downplayed a lot of it.

Since I was a little girl, I’ve learned that I am a sex object. Whether I want to be or not, men will see my body as something they have a right to. Not all men, and I am grateful for that every day. But because of those men that do act like they can do whatever they want with my body and if I argue back I should be put in my place, I assume the worst when in a teetering situation. I will immediately go on my guard when put in these situations because I have seen it happen before, time and time again. So no, I do not hate men. Not at all. But I have to be cautious and careful because I never know which guy isn’t going to understand a polite “no” and keep pushing; I don’t know if the guy that keeps pushing will start getting angry with me; and I have no idea what a man that’s angry at me for denying him something he’s always been taught he had a right to will do.

Now do you understand why I think this hurts more than it helps, and why I think it doesn’t help at all?