A Letter To The Guy Who Catcalled Me In Front Of The Harris Teeter

Or, A Day In The Life Of A Female Body Living Under Patriarchy

Dear Potential Rapist,

You watched me approach the store entrance while lighting your cigarette. I made eye contact with you and possibly ventured a smile, something my Southern nature tells me to do when passing by even the strangest of strangers. You clearly took that as an invitation, nodding, raising your eyebrows, and saying something to the effect of, "Hey there you lil' gorgeous thing, what you lookin' for this afternoon? A good time?"

I wanted to turn to you and respond that I was lookin' to buy some groceries so my partner and I can eat tonight. Tell you that my polite nature is not an invitation to harass me. Then I wanted to ask what you thought would come of it. Did you think I would jump into your car with you? Have mad anonymous sex with you because you're clearly just that hot? Or does harassing random women do enough for you? Does it make you feel like a big man, worthy of respect in a society that offers you little based on your race and socio-economic status?

But I said none of these things. Instead I averted my eyes, dropped my gaze, and hurried into the store where my every move would be caught on security camera.

See, I'm a pretty strong person. I generally stand up for myself and others without blinking an eye. I regularly assist women through long labors without hardly sitting down, let alone sleeping. I have held my own in arguments on complex and controversial topics ranging from abortion, queer lib, rape culture, etc. I've even used my body as a human shield between abortion patients and groups of people who very possibly want me dead.

But you forced upon me the kind of vulnerability from which even the strongest of women are so often unable to recover. As much as I would have loved to turn around and tell you what's what, the threat of further verbal - or worse, physical - harassment turned me into little more than a timid schoolgirl, and I was silenced. So if that was indeed your goal, congratulations.

When I exited the store, you were still there.  My heart skipped a beat as you stood up from the bench where you had apparently been sitting, waiting. A thousand different thoughts flew through my head at once: would someone really attack a woman in broad daylight, and if so, would bystanders respond? Do I remember the defensive maneuvers I learned in RAD almost a decade ago? Could I take you myself, or will I need to scream for help? And finally, I wish I was wearing better shoes. 

I then considered my knee-length skirt and form-fitting tank top and wondered if your good-for-nothing defense attorney would be able to argue that I was asking for it. Imagined the people who would question why I made eye contact with you in the first place. Recalled every last email my mom has sent me with tips for avoiding an attack. Wished I hadn't scoffed at them.

I walked across the shopping center faster than usual, covertly using storefront windows to see if you were following me (a trick most of us have learned by necessity). You weren't there, but I only breathed a sigh of relief when I got into my car, closed the door, and immediately locked it like I always do.

In a way, I think I should thank you for not letting me go a day without a stark reminder that rape culture exists. This wasn't the first time this has happened to me, and it won't be the last. Young women aren't taught that these things might happen to them... we're taught that they will. And it's a survival mechanism, a societal bandaid that helps us prepare for and avoid potential attacks without ever really asking why these things happen in the first place.

But let me not pass judgment. It's quite possible you've never truly raped a woman in your life; your predatory activities could very well begin and end with street harassment. But I (and whoever else you've catcalled) don't know that. To us, you and all men are potential rapists, and your decision to make unsolicited comments about my being a "gorgeous little thing" doesn't exactly help your case.

See, you may never have stopped to consider how your actions are perceived. And in many ways, you will never fully understand the impact of them. To you, street harassment may at worst embarrass us, gross us out, or make us roll our eyes while giving you a funny story to tell your guy friends later. You need to know, however, that rape culture exists in a continuum. You do not need to physically rape a woman in order to make her afraid of being raped... we're socialized to view you as a potential rapist, and any action that seeks to sexualize, objectify, or threaten us without our consent may be perceived as a precursor to the worst possible end. 

Something to think about.

Sincerely,
Your Potential Victim