Street Harassment: It Angers Me

Open Letter to Every Dude Who Harasses Me on the Street:

Fuck

You

Fuck You for compromising my right to walk down the street in public!  I do not exist for you!  I did not leave my house today so that your sleazy ass would stare at me lasciviously on the street corner and impose some creepy compliment on me, or honk at me from your car, or whistle at me, or call me baby, mami, honey, sweatheart, sweetie, girl, etc.  I am not any of those things to you.  You don’t know me!  What makes you think it’s OK to talk to me at all?  What makes you think this is an appropriate way to interact with anyone?  

What the fuck is the matter with you?  

Have you nothing better to do? 

Fuck You for making me afraid to walk home at night!  Fuck you for following me down a darker-than-is-comfortable sidewalk and whispering, “hey” in my ear.  Do you think that’s sexy?  Am I supposed to be enticed?  I'm Not.  I feel threatened and afraid.  Is that your goal, you sick fuck?  How  dare you make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin!   How dare you taint my experience of the world at a time that has otherwise been peaceful, quiet, beautiful for me to experience?  How dare you infuse that peace and solitude with fear! 

Fuck You for phrasing your harassment as a compliment!  How is it that I’m a “bitch” if I don’t smile and thank you for your creepy invasion of my personal space?  

FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER, I HATE YOU!  

DON’T FUCKING TALK TO ME!!  

I am wearing headphones on the bus!  Does it look like I’m in the mood to engage your creepy ass?? 

NO, IT DOES NOT!  

YOU ARE JUST A FUCKING IDIOT/ SUBHUMAN WHO DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT SOCIAL CUES OR DECENCY OR ME OR ANY WOMAN BECAUSE YOU ARE A SAD, LONELY, PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING!  

You happen to have noticed my tits or my ass or how my skirt swishes, or how helpless I look in the rain, or how good a dancer I am, and, because you are an imbecile who lacks a filter or decorum, you just can't help but announce it to the world.  You know why I look good dancing/ walking/ riding the bus/ doing whatever the fuck it is you’ve caught me doing that you saw fit to interrupt?  It’s because I’m not thinking about you!  I’m enjoying myself.  I’m content in my purposeful mission of obtaining milk, or strolling to the studio, or visiting a friend, or going out to eat.  I like the colors I chose to wear today, and I’m enjoying the feeling of the sun on my shoulder.  Your expression of “approval”, because it’s not rooted in any real desire to make me feel good about myself, is not something I wanted or needed to hear.  I want NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!

But that's just it--this isn't really about me, is it?  It’s about You.  You, deflecting your own insecurity in the presence of a strong, confident woman whom you know would never look at/ speak to/ touch you.  You, trying to make yourself feel powerful by making me uncomfortable.  You, trying to get a thrill out of frightening me.  You, being so arrogant and misguided as to actually think I must want your attention.  Because all women must want your attention.  It's what we're here for:  to be looked at and approved by the likes of you.  Well, I hate to burst that delusional bubble of yours, but 

I Don't Want Your Attention.  

It Is Not Flattering.  

Which is why you have to force it on me. 

I don't need your opinion, which is why I didn't ask for it. 

Nothing about you or your unwelcome attention makes me feel good.  

I feel good about myself because I don't care about people like you.  You're looking in at me, making your sorry effort at getting my attention because we both know you are not worthy of it.  Because you are a coward, you resort to intimidation, thinking it will force me to acquiesce.  And I do acknowledge you in that moment--I quicken my pace and ignore you, or I muster up the courage to shout at you, or I roll my eyes and seethe with rage.  But I will never want to interact with someone like you--I will never actively seek you out; I will never choose to spend time with you.  If this is what you wanted, you wouldn’t shout at me from your car or make animal sounds at me from your stoop.  You would use other, more appealing, respectful methods of approaching me—you’d give me the courtesy of allowing me to make your acquaintance, rather than forcing me into an objectified, subjugated role right off the bat.  I doubt you have any interest whatsoever in being a decent human being though, which is really unfortunate for you.  

I'm angry because you affect me, even though you are a pitiful, repulsive, cowardly nothing.  I want to ignore you, but you’re everywhere!  You’re on my walk to the grocery store; you’re behind the register at the grocery store; you’re on my walk home, in cars, on the sidewalk; you’re at the bus stop; you’re driving the bus; you’re on the bus; you’re lurking in an alley on my walk home, terrifying me into changing my route so as to avoid this situation in the future.  I am inundated by you and your invasive crudity.  And I hate you for it.  Your insecurities are not my problem, yet you pull me into them every time you open your stupid mouth.  It isn't fair.  You don't deserve that power.  

You affect not only me, but the entire structure of our society when you propagate such an outdated, offensive, warped perspective of what masculinity is onto random strangers, in public.  By extension, you further polarize gender performance by enforcing the subjugation of women to your crass posturing.  You're a cog in a system you don't even understand.  It's infuriating!  

I hate you, but more than anything, I pity you.  Fuck you, but mostly, fuck the social structures that sanction your behavior and allow it to happen constantly.  Fuck this world that moves too slowly and clings to stupid and offensive ways because they're familiar.  Fuck those who facilitate the maintenance of such a world.