“Please don’t catcall me,” says women everywhere

Everywhere women go, they are always forced to endure on the spot objectification and degradation of their bodies by men.

Everywhere women go, they are always forced to endure on the spot objectification and degradation of their bodies by men.

All women, at one point in their lives, will be catcalled.

The twisted thing about catcalling is that men do it because they think they’re complimenting women. What they fail to realise is that catcalling is a form of sexual harassment, and women everywhere doesn’t want to be subjected to it.

In her Scary Mummy story, mum Christine Burke puts up a good argument why she doesn’t want to be in its receiving end.

“It’s a familiar scene played out near construction sites all across the country: a strong, confident woman walks by a group of workers only to hear a litany of whistles, catcalls, and comments about her appearance.”

She is then left to make a decision, ignore it or confront the men doing it.

The irony of the situation, Christine says, is that the moment a woman decides to stand up to these men and call their bluff, they will immediately clam up and stop.

Christine admits that she’s received some catcalls sent her way, not to brag, but to emphasise how catcalls confound her.

“I have never understood the merit behind a man yelling compliments at a woman he’s never met,” she says. “I don’t know if it’s because I don’t hang out with men who hoot like an owl when an independent woman walks within their view but I always wonder what these men are expecting to accomplish exactly with their childish attempt at attention.”

Do these men believe that if they whistle at a random woman on the street she will be overcome with passion and sleep with them?

Do they think that if they hoot at and offer raunchy comments to a girl they fancy she will be grateful for it?

It doesn’t work that way.

“I don’t need to hear validation in the form of a whistle from some random man on the street who thinks my legs ‘look fine, mama,’ says Christine. “Yes, I know how great my legs look, thank you very much.”

She then recalls an incident while she was walking down the streets of New York City. She was with her nine-year-old, and was horrified when several men winked and licked their lips as she walked passed.

“Everywhere women go, we are besieged with comments about our appearance. Whether it’s a whistle because a man likes the cleavage a woman is displaying or a jerk with a disparaging remark about the junk in a mum’s trunk, women are forced to endure on the spot objectification and degradation of their bodies.”

Furthermore, in a world where women have to fight for their rights and privileges, they only feel threatened and scared whenever they’re being jeered at by men they don’t know. It seems to them that their dignity is being devalued and that they do not deserve respect.

That is not a compliment; that’s abuse.

“One of these days, I really will call a catcaller’s bluff,” Christine says. “And, when I do, I’m going to press my pendulous mum funbags right next to his sweaty work clothes and I’m going to whisper in his ear:

“’You know what really makes me horny, sweet cheeks? The thought of you emptying my dishwasher and folding my laundry. Come on, let’s go, hot stuff, my toilets aren’t going to clean themselves.’

“That’s MY version of talking dirty, gentlemen.”

 

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