Walking while XX: A Tally of Street Harassment for the Summer of 2014

Two weeks ago, I decided to keep a tally of all the harassment I receive while walking in public on a daily basis. Ask any woman you know for stories in which she’s verbally and/or physically harangued on the street, and I can guarantee she’ll be able to talk your ears off—this kind of behavior is something she’s likely experienced almost every day from the age of thirteen.

Let that sink in for a moment.

The summer in particular can be exceedingly dreadful for these kinds of situations because a regular day in New York City often feels like the sun is trying to burn your face off with its own magnifying glass. Hotter days mean less articles of clothing. What might be dressing for comfort in our eyes (dresses offer a refreshing breeze, thinner bras mean less boob sweat, shorts mean escaping heatstroke on a 100 degree day, and so on) is always interpreted as wanting for attention in the eyes of society (spoiler alert: it’s not). That means that a typical Monday summer morning in a sundress can often leave you exhausted and crabby by the end of the day, due to the endless stream of dialogue emanating from the mouths of otherwise anonymous men.

[I’m going to pause here for a moment to elaborate that it doesn't actually matter what a woman is wearing on the street; I have been harassed by men while walking home in dingy sweatpants, exhausted and sweaty from rehearsal.  I have also been hit on while wearing a full winter coat and a scarf that covers half of my face. This is a year-round problem that simply becomes more amplified in the summertime, with the logic for it sounding a bit like: "Because body parts."]

Catcalling is rarely ever about the woman it’s directed toward—it’s a power play (but more on that next time). If you’re a female walking any place by yourself or in groups without men, someone is always going to have something to say about your body.

That being said, my tally for verbal harassment this summer (since I started this project) has been astonishingly low. These have been perhaps the quietest two weeks I've experienced in a very long time. It’s been pretty amazing actually. I still get your standard long, unsettling stares on street corners, but those I can handle (by either marching past or staring back until the person looks away awkwardly).

Silence is a beautiful thing, ladies and gentleman. I don’t have to mentally prepare myself for anything (“Are they going to say something?” “Am I in a safe enough situation to verbally defend myself or am I going to have to ignore them?” “How many men are there?” “Is there anyone else around?”), nor do I have to listen to filth.

And with my overture coming to a close, I present you with what has been said to me, at me, or in my direction over the last couple weeks:

June 2^nd, ~9:40am, while walking along an avenue in Manhattan, as I pass a man walking in the same direction: “Damn, I love your ass.” When I don’t respond or register his comment, he repeats it louder to make sure I’ve heard him: “I LOVE YOUR ASS.” (This is what inspired me to keep tally.)

~June 6^th, ~10:00am, while walking in Manhattan, an old man leans out of his car window: “Oh hello, beautiful.”

~June 11^th,~8:30am, while walking to the train, a block away from my house, a man walks past me and says: “You should smile, beautiful. It’s going to be a great day.” These kinds of comments are the worst of all, in my opinion. Now before you have a chance to say anything, (“But Natalie, that seemed nice!”) I’ll tell you why. As a grown, educated, and confident woman, NOTHING is more patronizing and condescending to have a man tell you that you should smile because he finds you attractive. What this says to me is that my face forming any other expression than “happiness” is upsetting to your aesthetic appeal. Women are multi-faceted creatures (Just like you! Who knew?) who don’t need to be commanded to smile on cue for your enjoyment, nor to do they need to be told it’s going to be a beautiful day because they most likely checked the weather just as you did prior to leaving the house. In my case, I literally left my house two minutes ago and am still trying wake up.

~June 11th, ~8:35am, one block later, from a moving vehicle: A man yells something inaudible from a moving van. How do I know it was directed towards me? I am the only person walking around for a twenty foot radius. I’m glad I didn’t hear it.

~June 11/12^th, ~10:00pm, the corner of the train station, walking home, a man says: “Hello sweetie, you lookin’ so sweet and nice.” When I ignore him, he repeats it louder as I turn the corner: “You lookin’ soooo sweet.”

Let’s note two important things:

One, a “quiet” two weeks are still five separate instances of street harassment, and two—if I ignore the comments, they are often repeated louder.

That’s all for now folks.

I’ll be back soon with more tallies and tales from my daily endeavors and walking while female.

Peace, love, and hopefully respect.

-N.