One:

Driving home from work, tired and makeup-less, windows open, enjoying the breeze ruffling my french-braided hair. A construction worker fifteen years my senior bends to look in my passenger window and whistles long and loud, lecherously following me with his eyes as I continue down the street.

Two:

At a nightclub with some friends, walking past some tables, happily enjoying the music and trying not to trip in my stilettos. A small group of guys at a table yells "Hey Baby" and proceeds to get up out of their seats and follow us until we reluctantly agree to sit with them for a minute.

Three:

Headed to the parking garage after dropping my friend off at the bus station. Several older, straggly looking men whisper amongst themselves as I pass, in voices just purposefully loud enough for me to hear. "Look at that a** ."Break me off a piece of that." I duck my head and walk faster than i thought possible.

All of these encounters left me feeling like more of a piece of meat than a woman. And that is simply not acceptable.

Being a woman is such a powerful thing. We are equipped with the gift of motherly compassion, of both mental prowess and physical strength, and the ability to use these things in ways that men simply cannot. However, often it seems we become muddled with the male-perpetuated idea that above and apart from all our strengths, women want to be desired. We want to be lusted after, want to stop men dead in their tracks.

Sure, it feels nice when a man (whom you care about and also are attracted to-- key words) thinks you are beautiful or sexy and thinks to remind you of such. Apparently there is a miscommunication at this point, somewhere between being wanted by whom YOU want, and men thinking that you want ALL of them to want you.

Hint-- they're not the same thing.

Whistling at a woman as she walks down the street isn't endearing. It isn't complimentary. And it CERTAINLY isn't a glowing recommendation of your character. With your whistle, you are telling her that her value to you, and to anyone in the vicinity, is defined by the curves of her body, that her womanhood's sole importance lies in her physicality. It would take nearly the same amount of time to approach her in friendly conversation, tell her she looks nice that day in a non-threatening and respectful manner. It's not an impossibility. It's a choice. One that needs to be made more often.

If it was a compliment to be shouted at from passing cars, to be gestured at and called to in an inappropriate manner from a distance, then I wouldn't feel fearful when it happens. It associates desire, something meant to be positive, meant to be special, with apprehension. It is a reminder that while as a gender, women have come incredibly far in American history, as a sex we are still viewed as inferior, as weak, as able to be handled and manipulated in whichever way a man pleases. Women are not creatures who will come when called.

I shouldn't have to feel nervous walking alone, even in broad daylight. I shouldn't have to cower and avoid eye contact with township and city employees as I drive past them, for fear of how they are eyeing me up. (And anyway-- the last time this happened, I was wearing pigtails, which are often associated with little girls and which makes this encounter increasingly disturbing). And I definitely shouldn't feel obligated to give a man my time because I'm worried how he would react upon being rejected.

Don't catcall me. Don't call me out of my name. Don't whistle at me as I pass by. I am not an animal, and just because YOU are a dog doesn't mean that I am one too.