Thoughts From The Receiving End…

It happens all over the world and I have experienced it more times then I care to remember. So why does it still bother me so much? Harmless on the surface but deeply disturbing when you look at it closer, Catcalls and public grabbing are one of the banes of my life. Living in Madagascar has certainly shined a light on these issues for me and brought back some memories from Cambodia but I must stress that I have experienced just as much of this garbage in the UK or Malta as I have in any other country I have lived in.

I am not a particularly magnificent looking person and yet I receive what I consider to be more than my fair share of catcalls and public grabbings (which although many deem to be “annoying but harmless” are actually forms of abuse). I wonder whether the frequency of my experience with these things is actually to do with the fact that because I do not look like Claudia Schiffer, men find me less intimidating and therefore an easy target. Or perhaps men can sense my hostility when they start this crap and then that make me more fun to pick on.

And yet, despite it’s global normalcy, this phenomenon warrants a little explanation in my own psyche. Why does it bother me SO MUCH, in what ways does it make me feel uncomfortable and why is it being done in the first place? I direct these thoughts to any man who has ever uttered a grunt or whistle at some woman’s retreating form or tried to catch a girls’ attention by grabbing her as she walks past…

The first issue is that despite the fact that it you usually have no intention of doing me any more harm that a smack on the ass or a comment on my fuckability, these interactions make me feel unsafe. It might not be your intention, but your brazen ability to objectify and embarrass me in public with no social repercussions, reminds me that I am vulnerable. It reminds me that my confidence in my ability to carry out day-to-day activities safely is misguided and that society is more likely to turn a blind eye to bad behaviour than step in and confront it. Perhaps this feeling of panic that accompanies sexual comments, men following me or the occasional public groping comes from my personal history with men. BUT you don’t know me, or what I have been through, and even if I had no prior experiences drudging up old fears would that give you the right to make me dread the walk to my local corner shop for a loaf of bread?

Secondly, it makes me feel worthless. It reminds me that although I might be a Masters graduate, the director of an international NGO, a confident, well-travelled person who respects myself, I am still, above all those things, an object- a piece meat that you have the right to degrade and diminish. I could be the prime minister or the head of an army and STILL because I am a woman and you are a man it is appropriate for you to judge me on my body and then give credence to this judgement by voicing it in public. Whether you admit it, or even are aware of it, or not- the reason you feel able and warranted to call out or touch me whenever you feel like it, just reinforces the paternalism of contemporary society, even when it is hiding behind a public face of sexual equality. This fact is evidenced by the reality that when you call out to me or smack or stroke me as I am walking past, you do not actually expect or want, anything from me. It is a vocalisation of your power just for the sake of exerting it. You do not actually expect me to turn around and kiss you, or ask you up to my room- so your interjection served no purpose but to publically reinforce the imbalance of power between us.

And somehow, when you do this, people’s reaction is negative not toward you, but me- as though by provoking your outburst of sexual desire and misogyny, I have made them uncomfortable and therefore deserve yet further judgement. This ideology is furthered by the opinion that what I am wearing or the fact that I have a visible ass and breasts means that I am actually inviting this kind of behaviour and therefore have an obligation to take it in good humour. God forbid I have any other reaction than a coy smile or a friendly laugh and shrug! For some reason a reaction of anger, indignance or fear makes people feel more awkward and warrants the response of “God, isn’t she is making a big deal about nothing- what a bitch, can’t take a joke.” In fact just the other day I was grabbed and pulled toward a stranger in a cab and in fear my immediate response was to punch him which made him laugh and repeat the ‘joke’ by grabbing me again so I began to struggle and make a fuss- at which point the taxi driver stopped, looked back and with a wry grin told ME “okay that’s enough, settle down”… making me feel like there was some kind of international conspiracy to normalise the sexual aggression of a stranger toward a woman in public.

And not only do you seem to think it is funny, warranting nothing but a laugh from your mates and a feeling of instant gratification, but I am also constantly being told by other women and community authority figures that you mean no harm and that I should just ignore you and shrug it off. Why is it that even my peers don’t seem to think I have the right to conduct myself in public without the fear of being made to feel unsafe, insignificant and guilty? Did I miss some national convention or committee where we all signed off on this kind of public humiliation?

Perhaps the people that voice these opinions are lucky enough to never have had the experience of joyous catcalls and friendly gropes. I can safely say that most women who have do not find it flattering, funny or warranted. Instead they feel vulnerable, violated and frustrated- and for public record this is how you make me feel.

So if any men are reading this who happen to consider objectifying random women in the street ‘a bit of fun’ or ‘meant to be complimentary’, I beg you to study this photo of my face carefully. Then, if you ever see me walking down the street doing my errands, or if I ever jump into a shared cab next to you, please please do not voice your opinions on my ass, my breasts or call out the ever charming “Aw sex” and if you value your appendages and your ability to have children NEVER EVER TOUCH ME.

PS. I now have a rather large puppy dog who think of me as mamma, and he, much like myself, does not understand your humour, he only understands your actions. So next time you indulge yourself in a little slap and tickle, I am just going to go ahead and let him bite you. You've been warned. 

We are NOT amused!