Excuse me.

So I've been writing some things for a blog page I'm going to start soon, and this came up. It's a first draft, and I thought I'd try it out here first. Here goes!

I'd like to take a minute to talk about, let's say, women's issues. Specifically, I mean what it can be like to be in a female body. Let me first say that more often than not, I am surrounded by people who are loving and comfortable to be around. Most of the men in my life see me as a companion and a peer, and I am never uneasy being alone in a room with them.

However, I was browsing Reddit yesterday, and read through a chain of comments about this issue. Women described their experiences, and most of the men were surprised. They hadn't even thought about it. It was an awesome example of men and women relating to each other and trying to understand what the other goes through. So I wanted to post something of my own.

When I was 13, I was at a restaurant with my mom, her partner, and my brother, and a group of older men began to look at me. They were smirking and being sort of awkward, and I had no idea how to interpret it. I told my mom what I observed, and she made a joke about how we were in Utah, which I didn't get, but then she explained - still amused - that Mormons like to marry young girls.



All joking aside, it gave me pause. At first, I thought I might have been.... what, flattered? Not really, but something in that area. Not because those men in particular were giving me attention, but because oh my goodness, maybe I was an adult now! Not a little kid anymore, but a young lady. Am I all grown up? A beautiful princess?! I'm THE LITTLE MERMAID AT LAST. THE GODDESS ARTEMIS WITH DUDES SNEAKING PEAKS WHILE I BATHE BECAUSE I'M SO MAJESTIC.

But then I realized I was thirteen. Why should they look at me? Maybe they were laughing at me. Look at me. Sitting up straighter, preening myself, mussing up my hair, turning my fork slowly in my mouth in an effort to eat beautifully for these strangers. I was hilarious. And they agreed. They didn't think I was beautiful; they thought I was pathetic. And they were laughing at me.

At least, that's what went on in my young mind. That is a lot of pressure for a seventh grader to deal with while she eats dinner. I'm not sure what was actually happening. I don't remember their actions as much as I remember the way I felt: completely exposed. Naked in a room full of people, when all I really wanted that night was to be present with my family. I couldn't do anything without weighing out how it would look to these men. I was uncomfortable until I left. It was awful.

Over eleven years later, I've had a lot of practice dealing with out-of-nowhere, unwelcome, uncomfortable attention. I've had my ups and downs with self-esteem, but I think I've just about got it worked out. I have a good relationship with my body, and I love how strong and fast it is. How far I can push it, and how quickly it recovers. How soft my stomach is after a good meal. How hard it becomes after a difficult workout. The way my legs stretch out to cover inches and then miles, or hold steady when I need them to be strong. I can feel my body move beneath my clothes as I walk, and I love how healthy and complex and adaptable it is. I am proud of the work my body and I do together. It is amazing in more ways than how it can be penetrated. Which is why it is such an insult to me when that is all I become to some people. When, "Hey, I wanna lick you," is the only thing you can come up with. When you think that's all I'm worth.

Even with all of my love for my body, I am still that thirteen year old girl sitting at a table wondering how those men might be laughing at me. Are they laughing at me because I'm a slut? Because they think I'm ugly or pitiful?



It's bullying. Take away the complication of sex and attraction, and take with it the notion that any of this is a compliment. I think that's where some people get confused. So it comes down to this. I'm out in public. I feel good about myself, and I wore something that I feel awesome in. Now a group of strangers is staring at me, covertly pointing, smirking, laughing, nodding, sizing me up. I now feel uncomfortable and unsafe due to the kind of attention I'm getting. These people are bigger than me and outnumber me. I stay close to a group of people I know so that maybe they won't come bother me. They might hurt me, and then laugh at me when I tell them to stop. They might tell me I deserve this. What happens if I decide I agree? I'd feel worthless and helpless. I wouldn't want to risk another bully.

Or what if the stranger seems friendly at first? Let's go completely metaphorical. This kid I just met seems pretty cool. I want this kid to like me, I think, so I try to get to know him/her. But then the kid wants me to do things I'm uncomfortable with. Things that frighten me. I don't want to sneak out of my house, or steal that candy bar, or let him/her brand me with a hot coat hanger. I have to stop being friends with this kid! But I was already nice to him/her. Oh no, I would be such a jerk if I changed my mind, and everyone would hate me. I don't want to do these things, but if I don't, I'm a bad friend. Fickle and hysterical. No one would want to be my friend ever again if I stopped being nice to this kid, no matter how scared I am now.

Do you see? Women walk this tightrope all the time. I'm not saying that every new man I meet, I think "AREYOUARAPIST?!" And there have been plenty of times when a man has actually complimented me that I have smiled and said thank you, and that was it. I didn't feel threatened. And I usually don't until the interaction becomes about what he can get from me, whether or not I'm interested in giving it. The idea that I have to be so careful about what "signals" I'm sending out is so ingrained that I sometimes don't even know I'm doing it. I will say that I am always suspicious of groups of men that point and smirk at me. I worry about how they might try to humiliate me. That is intimidation. It is not flattering. It is not nice. I am not misunderstanding you and overreacting. If I were a man, I'd think you were planning on fighting me.

I'm tired of trying to be outside of my body so that I can look at it "objectively" and preempt the kind of attention that I don't want. I love my body. I want to strut around in it because it is so awesome. Feel free to appreciate that awesomeness, but do so with respect. Not in a way that intimidates me or pressures me to change it to appease you and make me less deserving of debasement.

You love your new car. You worked hard and were able to afford it, and it's perfect for you, and sexy, and you want people to see how awesome it is. Look how cool you are driving it! Now imagine someone comes up to you and says, "Hey, nice car. Let me drive it." You'd say, "No. It's my car, and I don't know you, and you totally aren't insured to drive it." "**** you, you ****ing uptight bitch. ****ing ****, I'll slash your ****ing tires, you worthless bitch. That car is ugly as **** and **** you for driving it." And then you hope to god they don't follow you home and mess up your awesome car.

Are these metaphors working for any of you? I hope so. Those of us who tell certain men to back off are not doing so because we hate when people are nice to us. We are uncomfortable, and we don't trust them yet. Or we'll try to ignore or avoid him so he doesn't cuss us out. Even worse! For most of my single life (and a lot of my time in a relationship, actually), I'd be thinking "Oh no, he's flirting, how to I subtly and politely communicate that I'm not going to **** him tonight?" Exhausting. Maybe you aren't thinking you're going to try to get me home the first night you meet me, but you gotta realize that a lot of men are, and I have to be clear with everyone what my intentions are or else it just gets weird. And maybe you're a really good person. Well that's excellent! Try not to look at us only in relation to your penis, and we'll be more able to see you as more than a walking libido. I am always willing to make a new acquaintance, and have a good conversation. You might have fun too, if you think talking to another person is a good time. But remember, just because we talked, or you bought me a $3 beer, that doesn't mean I owe you anything. Likewise, my having a vagina and flirting with you doesn't mean you owe me anything. Except decency, that is.

My fiance started out with a conversation. I knew he was flirting with me, but he wasn't pushing it. He let me get acclimated and start flirting back before he really put the moves on. My interest and comfort was important to him.

I think that most of you will do this intuitively, and probably don't harass women that you don't know. So I'll just add that if you see harassment happening, let her know that you're on her side. You don't have to white knight it and "defend her honor," but do let your drunk buddy or that asshole grabbing her shirt know that he's not being cool and you've got her back. Don't let her be alone. Don't let anyone be bullied.