Winter Time Cat Calls

It's winter time in the city. Everyone's bundled up. My own scarf covers most of my face heating me like a grey knit mammal. My arms lay horizontal at my side propped up by every sweater in my closet. And then--

Damnnn, Girl!

As my hunting hat has rendered my peripheral vision null, it takes an entire body shift to determine the source of the shout. A man on the corner licks his lips as he continues to look me up and down. What would seem like a gaff at my ensemble suddenly becomes much more. While you never really seek out cat calls, there seems to be a time and place for them. Summer comes to mind. I've come to realize that these calls are not just reserved for the bare skin. Like the Amish made due with pictures of ankles so do the pervs of New York with stocking covered legs.

A Graphic Rendering of my Findings Level I

I have noticed, as you might expect, the outfit as a variable influences where the cat call falls on the sliding scale of invasiveness.

Demonstrating Level II on the Invasive Scale

My coat, at knee level, sometimes covers the skirt that rises, (when will they make garters for things that ride up??) which for someone taller might mean a lot of leg action. But I'm a shorty (just not your shorty). There isn't miles of leg, or anything, to reveal. Yet if the black above-the-knee skirt is on, so too is the light in the brothel window. In the sneaker ensemble I recently posted, one guy on the street actually inquired if my butt was going to be busy that evening. On a separate occasion I had the audacity to wear a pair of clog boots with the same skirt, and one man approached me in order to whisper in my ear.

Demonstrating Level III

Forgive me but I have gotten past the age of feeling flattered. I don't know if I was ever really at that age, but I now most certainly reside on the corner of grossed out and enraged.
Dear Sir: Honestly, I don't require your opinion to feel good about myself, nor am I soliciting it. I don't need another person to keep me warm, I have plenty of layers in case you hadn't noticed. Oh, and please don't act like I'm a terrible person for rejecting your 'compliment.'
I find it funny that those who frequently talk about protecting women, the heroes of their own narratives, are often the perpetrators of the problem. Maybe women would not feel they needed protecting if cat callers understood that their 'complimenting' is actually quite objectifying.

There are enough reminders that we, as women, are sexual objects. I don't need the dew from your breath to make the message realer.

The momentum that is building seems to be taken seriously only by other women. You can't argue that men's sexual nature is uncontrollable, and in the same breath argue that these 'compliments' are non-sexualized niceties. Despite what society has proclaimed, women are not that stupid. After being looked at for this long we know the difference between a look, and a peeling-your-clothes-off-up-and-down-and-all-over-the-street LOOK.

The fact that victim blaming still exists is unconscionable. Yet even I partook in it. I found myself surprised by winter time cat calls because I couldn't imagine how, dressed as the abominable snowman, I might possibly be tempting the penis gallery. I found myself texting friends "seems like people think red heads are easier," in an attempt to make light of the situation and, in some ways, try to explain it.

The sad fact of the matter is that we are all players in the cycle. I am at a loss for solutions to break it, but I think it starts with rejecting the ways in which we depict female bodies. Capitalism tells us everything is for sale; the beer, the t-shirt, and the buxom blonde. The only way I see we can reject this is to create our own images, in our own respective mediums. Multi-dimensional representations of women create a challenge for those who seek to objectify. It is harder to claim ownership of something you cannot fully understand. Progress can come from simply supporting the work of others who are trying to take these steps. In some ways this post was inspired by a few feminist fashion blogs I recently discovered. Like the brilliant musings on à l’allure garçonnière. An activist, who is moderating a much needed discussion on the intersections of fashion and feminism, and the ways in which they perpetually misunderstand each other. For now I will leave this post as my first hack at my own advice. It is an attempt to contribute to the argument.

Concluding With a Level IV 'Close-Up'

I was going to end with an apology for the potential repetitiveness. But I actually think it is necessary. You are not being dramatic if you feel violated by someone looking/cat calling at you. You have a right to be treated like a human whose sum is far greater than your sexual desirability. So let's make it an issue. Because it should not be a story we have to hear over and over again.

This is a space to share. This conversation is no where near over.


***This post was made possible by my wonderful editor Otis Axel.