It doesn't really matter what you're wearing. I was a young married woman, waiting for my husband to pick me up after work for the long trip home. Standing on the sidewalk on a side street at the rear of the building of the insurance company in mid-town where I worked, wearing appropriate business attire, a man in a suit walked up to me and said, "How much?" I heard what he said, but couldn't comprehend it. So I said, "Pardon?" and he asked.again, "What do you charge"? I stared at him, speechless, then retreated into the back entrance of the building until I saw our car pulling up. We had to arrange a different, and far less convenient pick-up point at the front of the building following the incident, and while it was a long time ago and many, many other things have happened since then, I remember it vividly.
Ugh, I'm so sorry that happened. It's such a violation, isn't it? All you wanted to do was to stand and wait for your husband. I feel such a violent rage when I hear stories like this, like mine. I want to physically harm the pricks who treated us that way. And yes, indeed, it has nothing to do with what we had on - but back when I was fifteen, the patriarchy had taught me that it had everything to do with me and how I looked. Such hogwash. Thanks for sharing your story.
I thought about the other important part of your story. In Grade 3, I went to three different schools - all in the space of 10 months. In hindsight, I guess I could say it was my parent's fault, but unlike your Mom, it was more poor planning than malice. We moved to a new neighborhood, taking me out of our local school just after the beginning of the school year. The school in our new neighborhood wasn't quite finished, so the kids were all bussed out of the district to various schools that could accommodate a few here or there. And then to the new school for the balance of the school year. Being what is now called neurodivergent, (I was non-verbal), it was a terrifying experience filled with taunts and bullying and an honest to goodness broken nose from being slammed from behind onto the ice by a fifth grader in a school far from my home, for simply being "weird".
Oh no, this is heartbreaking and soul crushing. What a terrible and terrifying to experience, especially as a neurodivergent child. I’m so sorry that happened to you. 🙏🏻🙏🏻
In hindsight, getting in the car and going home with my husband each evening was far more dangerous than being accosted by a random stranger. But that's a whole other discussion.
It’s amazing that we all accept feeling unsafe in the world as just “the way things are” because, of course, that’s the way things are, and we learn the lesson young. My heart hurt for your 11-year old self, and I send her and every version of you, giant hugs. And thank you for the shout-out 🤍🤍
I feel sick to my stomach that this happened to you, against a backdrop of such criticism at home. Gosh if we could time travel and undo these tragic scenes 💔
When I was 14 I was walking with some friends and was groped by a group of older boys. Soon after a policeman and policewoman walked past and I went over and told them what happened, they looked me up and down and laughed at me.
I won’t say what I was wearing, because it doesn’t matter. X
Jesus, Sarina, if a policeWOMAN laughed at you over this... I'm not sure where that leaves us. I'm so sorry that happened to you and that they (especially she) didn't listen or care. But the laughing - that really makes my blood boil. And you're right - what you had on is irrelevant!
Thank you, N Jay, even though I'm also sorry that we all share this awful common experience. You NAILED it with the programmed shame and the shame of the toxic cycle. So spot on. It's horrifying. xo
All of this is traumatizing. The leering, the moving, the lack of a safe place to share this with anyone else at the time. I was traumatized by annual moves, and my dad had no choice--we had to move because it was his job. I cannot begin to imagine the trauma of being forced to change schools every year as a punishment.
So true! Moving often can be so traumatic for a child. My husband grew up military and has residual childhood trauma from being uprooted every two years of his life. I'm sorry you suffered that too, Leanne. xo
I so get this, Kate. But as I get older, instead of wanting to run, I find myself feeling violent - as if I could fight off a man. It’s crazy, but I think it’s the bottled-up rage. And now it’s more on behalf of younger women, especially young girls. When I see the leer on them, I feel murderous!
The male leer. Yes. Every single woman has felt it.
Jameela Jamil has recently posted two podcasts about men’s abuse to women and other men. It’s out of control
Thank you, Teyani. I will check out that podcast.
This one and also one a couple episodes before on hypermasculinity
She’s awesome
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/i-weigh-with-jameela-jamil/id1498855031?i=1000670491808
Thank you! I saved it and will listen to it and the others!
It doesn't really matter what you're wearing. I was a young married woman, waiting for my husband to pick me up after work for the long trip home. Standing on the sidewalk on a side street at the rear of the building of the insurance company in mid-town where I worked, wearing appropriate business attire, a man in a suit walked up to me and said, "How much?" I heard what he said, but couldn't comprehend it. So I said, "Pardon?" and he asked.again, "What do you charge"? I stared at him, speechless, then retreated into the back entrance of the building until I saw our car pulling up. We had to arrange a different, and far less convenient pick-up point at the front of the building following the incident, and while it was a long time ago and many, many other things have happened since then, I remember it vividly.
Ugh, I'm so sorry that happened. It's such a violation, isn't it? All you wanted to do was to stand and wait for your husband. I feel such a violent rage when I hear stories like this, like mine. I want to physically harm the pricks who treated us that way. And yes, indeed, it has nothing to do with what we had on - but back when I was fifteen, the patriarchy had taught me that it had everything to do with me and how I looked. Such hogwash. Thanks for sharing your story.
I thought about the other important part of your story. In Grade 3, I went to three different schools - all in the space of 10 months. In hindsight, I guess I could say it was my parent's fault, but unlike your Mom, it was more poor planning than malice. We moved to a new neighborhood, taking me out of our local school just after the beginning of the school year. The school in our new neighborhood wasn't quite finished, so the kids were all bussed out of the district to various schools that could accommodate a few here or there. And then to the new school for the balance of the school year. Being what is now called neurodivergent, (I was non-verbal), it was a terrifying experience filled with taunts and bullying and an honest to goodness broken nose from being slammed from behind onto the ice by a fifth grader in a school far from my home, for simply being "weird".
Oh no, this is heartbreaking and soul crushing. What a terrible and terrifying to experience, especially as a neurodivergent child. I’m so sorry that happened to you. 🙏🏻🙏🏻
In hindsight, getting in the car and going home with my husband each evening was far more dangerous than being accosted by a random stranger. But that's a whole other discussion.
Yikes. I imagine it is. Hugs to you. 🙏🏻
It’s amazing that we all accept feeling unsafe in the world as just “the way things are” because, of course, that’s the way things are, and we learn the lesson young. My heart hurt for your 11-year old self, and I send her and every version of you, giant hugs. And thank you for the shout-out 🤍🤍
Thanks, Ally. And thanks for your moving piece that got me thinking about this. xoxo
Wish we didn’t all have stories to share, but grateful there’s some comfort in solidarity 🤍🤍🤍
The leer - yes that’s it.
I feel sick to my stomach that this happened to you, against a backdrop of such criticism at home. Gosh if we could time travel and undo these tragic scenes 💔
When I was 14 I was walking with some friends and was groped by a group of older boys. Soon after a policeman and policewoman walked past and I went over and told them what happened, they looked me up and down and laughed at me.
I won’t say what I was wearing, because it doesn’t matter. X
Jesus, Sarina, if a policeWOMAN laughed at you over this... I'm not sure where that leaves us. I'm so sorry that happened to you and that they (especially she) didn't listen or care. But the laughing - that really makes my blood boil. And you're right - what you had on is irrelevant!
Right? Patriarchy at its proudest, getting a woman to laugh at another woman’s violation 💔
Exactly.
This!!! Yes! You definitely have captured my experience with your words.
I'm still battling the shame that was heavily programmed to my core, but the real shame is that this toxic cycle continues.
Thank you for your words and wisdom! 🙏🫶
Thank you, N Jay, even though I'm also sorry that we all share this awful common experience. You NAILED it with the programmed shame and the shame of the toxic cycle. So spot on. It's horrifying. xo
All of this is traumatizing. The leering, the moving, the lack of a safe place to share this with anyone else at the time. I was traumatized by annual moves, and my dad had no choice--we had to move because it was his job. I cannot begin to imagine the trauma of being forced to change schools every year as a punishment.
So true! Moving often can be so traumatic for a child. My husband grew up military and has residual childhood trauma from being uprooted every two years of his life. I'm sorry you suffered that too, Leanne. xo
The joys of being a woman. /s
Being middle aged lends a degree of invisibility, yet I still find myself avoiding strange men’s eyes. Even now, it makes me want to run.
I so get this, Kate. But as I get older, instead of wanting to run, I find myself feeling violent - as if I could fight off a man. It’s crazy, but I think it’s the bottled-up rage. And now it’s more on behalf of younger women, especially young girls. When I see the leer on them, I feel murderous!
👍👍
Male leer is far more accurate. Thank you for sharing this piece 🤍
Thank you, Caroline. I’m equally pleased and grieved that it resonates.