The Culture Surrounding Cat-Calling

I do not enjoy being catcalled, and I don’t imagine that other women enjoy it either. I had an experience one recent afternoon that shook me. I was walking down a residential street, carrying my grocery bag and munching on a can of Pringles, when a truck with two men slowed down beside me. Looking up from my delicious snack, I met the gaze of a young man, maybe in his mid-to-late twenties, who had twisted his body out of the car window to blow a kiss in my direction. My immediate reaction was to give him the finger as the car sped off while he and his friend laughed. And I admit, it was gratifying for the first half of a second until I thought, “They could turn their car around to come back and hurt me.” I feared their reaction to my gesture. I feared the unknown. As unfortunate as that immediate thought was, I want to talk more about why that was the first thing to cross my mind.

 Violence against women is real. 

Think of all the posts on social media, news articles, or reported accounts of women being harmed for saying no. God dammit, the first article I wrote for Coven was about a woman saying no and ultimately being battered to her death for it (Mollie Tibbets Case). The cyclical nature of the abuse women go through for standing on their own and saying I am not on this earth for your (male) pleasure is horrifying.  

Asking “What’s the big deal about catcalling?” is not an innocent question. Men claiming that “it’s just a compliment” is the unwarranted and unsolicited sexualization of my body. Catcalling implies a diminishment of female strength and power. I feel like I’m stripped naked in a menagerie with peering eyes examining all of me without my consent. Women do not find this behavior complimentary.  We do not like it. We don’t want to be blown kisses, or looked up and down, or hollered at while you lick your lips in lust. To us, a catcall incites a lack of agency and fear. We are not on this planet to be objectified.

So why does this message need to be promoted in the first place? Because everyone, but for the purpose of this article specifically men, must have a basic understanding of what respect is and what it looks like. Does respect take shape by not blatantly staring at a woman indicating to her, and everyone else around, that you find her attractive? Does respect take shape by not rolling down your window and yelling a “compliment” at someone who was not even paying attention to you in the first place? Or does respect take shape by recognizing the position of privilege you are in by simply being a man and working towards ways to fight for equal treatment in all facets of life? Whatever ways of showing basic human respect you choose, they need to be more blatantly obvious. In a world full xenophobic, racist, and sexist rhetoric, positive and empowering content needs to be brought to the forefront of our media consumption.

The most frightening aspect of catcalling to me is the prevalence among young women, particularly pre-teen and teenage girls. My case, as a twenty-one-year-old woman, was not unusual but I distinctly recall the trailing eyes of leering men and whispers echoing across sidewalks as a young girl. During my bus ride home this summer I had a man, with sweat beads forming at his balding edges, ask me if I was a teenager. I asked in return, “Does it matter?” to which he responded, “Yes it does.” This kind of interaction is the exact type of predatory behavior that is fear-inducing, especially for younger women. Despite my self-assurance that I would not let him intimidate me, I still felt the need to say goodbye so that he would not follow me off the bus. If I’d encountered this situation as a younger girl, I would not have known what to say. My body would have gone stiff and my mouth dry. Whether he was asking my age as a clarifying question, or my worst fear and assumption, that he lusted after young girls, does not matter. The fact he thought it was socially acceptable to ask my age highlights the fundamental discrepancy in our culture where women are taught to constantly be vigilant of their surroundings. Cisgender heterosexual men, on the other hand, exist mostly without the same fear. 

The male need to express confidence and assert his desire infiltrates our cultural landscape in many ways. Catcalling, for example, operates as a poignant example of a display of toxic masculinity. In my experience, I have never been actively catcalled by a solitary man. He has always been with at least one other person. This realization never ceases to amaze me because there is a sense of security and safety in large numbers. When you have a cohort of support, it becomes easier to engage in riskier, higher stake activities. When the level of anonymity increases, the lack of responsibility and accountability decreases. This psychological mind game affects women as well. I am less likely to stand up for myself if I am outnumbered by a group of men twice my size. But if I have girlfriends who are equally frustrated with the omnipresence of male dominance, I feel much more comfortable (and safer) calling out a man’s bullshit.  Our cultural allowance for men’s acquisition of their desired object teaches young boys that this kind of behavior is acceptable. Therefore, it continuously disseminates from generation to generation. Young girls are taught defense mechanisms rather than boys being taught to change their behavior.   

This article stemmed from a place of frustration and anger. I was tired of explaining over and over again to my male peers why feminism deserves advocacy. I was frustrated that I did not feel heard. I felt invalidated. But, truly, where will that attitude ultimately get me?  I must keep fighting for my voice to be heard; I must keep asserting that my opinions are valid and my presence is valuable. My perspective and my ability to add to a discussion cannot be taken away from me. My intelligence is worth something. I am more than just something to be sexualized and objectified. Women of all backgrounds have gone through more than their share of pain, hurt, and aggravation. It’s almost 2020. The standards for equality and respect should be a little bit higher, don’t you think?

Forever yours and fighting for change,

anna