To the Stranger who thinks he can call me "baby..."
I don’t know you. You don’t know me. But you see me on the street and you see your property. You see me and you see your supremacy, granted to you by the presence of sexism, personified. I don’t know why, but I’ve experienced it enough times to know you do.
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I’ve experienced you in the form of black men, white men, rich men, poor men, gangsters, and preppy college scholars. I’ve had to ignore you on my way to work at 9 am, going out for pizza at 7 pm, and coming home from parties at 3 am. I’ve had to sit down and concentrate on mentally reassuring myself that, no I’m not a piece of meat, no I don’t exist for your pleasure, and no, I did not ask for you to make me uncomfortable.
I see you everywhere. And unfortunately, for my own comfort and safety, I have to assume you are every man I encounter until proven otherwise.
My question to you is, "why?"
Why is it that, when you drive by me standing and waiting to cross the street for class, you have to tell me my “ass looks fine as hell,” like there’s nothing wrong with making me uncomfortable? As if there’s nothing wrong with making me go through my mental checklist of whether or not I’m standing too provocatively, or if my pants are too tight, or I’m smiling too much to be able to be left alone? Maybe, just maybe, I’m not human to you after all.
And then, I wonder why you keep driving? Does that line not usually work for you? Women aren’t turned on by your sexual harassment? Maybe you should try humanizing them and see where it gets you.
Why is it that, when I’m walking down the street to the subway stop, you have to point out my cup size to your entire group of friends as if I’m not in earshot? As if the recognition to something so private in a place so public wouldn’t make me self-conscious about my clothing choice, posture, and even my own genes? Is it your attempt to receive validation from your friends that you’re manly enough? What is it that you feel you have to compensate for?
Why is it that you have to let me know you’re “enjoying the view” of me walking the next block over to get sushi with my friends? Is it not enough to stare at me like a steak? You also have to verbally express your view that, no, I’m nothing more than that to you. I am not worth your discrepancy or decency.
I’d like you to know that I’m a daughter. I’m a sister and a niece, a granddaughter and a friend. I’m a student, a singer, and a traveler. I have goals and dreams and opinions that you will never get to hear. I am a person.
When I’m an object to you, you become an obstacle to me.
You become the thing that makes daughters and nieces and sisters afraid to leave their houses at night. You become the reason I won’t go out to a party or bar on my own (as if it makes a difference), and the reason I have to avoid certain streets and sidewalks. Because I know you’ll be there, waiting to make me feel worthless in an attempt to project your own inadequacies on someone who is strong enough to take them.
So, before you tell me that I’m sexy or cute, (or something else I already know) when I clearly do not desire your attention, ask yourself why. Ask yourself if you actually have a right to make me feel inanimate and used with simple words. Ask yourself if you want to be the reason I do.
Sincerely,
The girl who you don’t have a right to call "baby."
