I am sort of amazed that last week passed without any sketchy encounters that left me with the killing rage and terrible shrinking feeling that often accompany catcalling. Chalk it up to irony. I start this blog and somehow the universe knows, fears patriarchy smashing, and relents...
If only that were how the world worked!
Yesterday, I went to the gym. When I finished my work out, I felt great. Endorphins, sweat, cleared sinuses, the whole deal. As I got dressed to leave the gym, I made sure to put on my sweatshirt inside out. The name and logo of my college are printed on the back of my sweatshirt, and it has been used in the past by catcallers to name me and catch my attention. I may have looked funny wearing my sweatshirt inside out, but these are the sort of things I have learned to do to avoid attention. Hood up, hair up, head down, walk fast.
Usually, my walks home from the gym are quite pleasant. I enjoy the sunlight and the breeze as I walk by kids getting out from school, older men and women sitting on their stoops.
When I turned onto my block, I saw 4 or 5 men standing in front of my house. I started cursing to myself and praying, preparing for a confrontation. This is my gut reaction to groups of men, irrespective of age. I steady myself, I brace for myself, for whatever it is they are about to say.
As I approached, they began to speak all at once and I could not distinguish what they were saying. I heard one man apologize for blocking the entrance to my house. "It's all right," I said, as I walked up the stairs. This same man said, "Hunh?" as if he did not understand so I turned around and repeated, "It's all right."
And then came the transition. Oh, the transition. The shift into the realm of the catcall. What begins as an innocent, "Good morning," or "Hello," that you reciprocate and acknowledge because you like strangers/ neighbors/ people, quickly devolves into: "Where are you going? Can I come? You got a boyfriend? Why do you look so mad? Smile for me, sweetie."
