So, I was cat called the other day! It is always fun.
What was I wearing, you ask? Why, Just a sweaty, smelly, baggy work out T-shirt and a old gym tracks, with my sweaty hair matted to my head in a sad excuse of a bun. Attractive, I know! Where were you, you ask, was it at night in an abandoned alley, near a Tasmac shop? No, it was bright, hot summer day, 8:30 in the morning, in a busy street adjacent to Nelson Manickam road, which is very close to my home, and I was returning from my gym. Was I asking for it? No, certainly not. Is it still my fault? Must be.
And it bothered me quite some days now. Don’t mistake me. It was not the first time I was cat called. I am not bragging, it is not some thing to brag about. I am just stating that I have grown used to it. I have developed a thicker skin, learned to ignore and walk faster, as most girls do. But this particular time bothered me because, I was not ready this time. I didn’t think my outfit that day would attract any attention. So, I didn’t put on my mental shield, if you can call it that.
That made me realize that, I was subconsciously blaming myself for being cat called, all this time. Me, a girl brought up in a modern environment, both morally and physically, was blaming myself all these years, for some douche bag objectifying me. Maybe the Kurta was too tight, maybe the full- sleeved, high neck top was too slutty, why did I wear this top in this part of the town. Do you know how many times I have changed my out fit depending on the street I am going to walk in? So, I don’t know what the saddest part is, me blaming myself for being cat called or the guy who needed to whistle at some random girl on the street to make his life more interesting?
But this time, I realized it doesn’t matter to you. It doesn’t matter if she is attractive or not. It doesn’t matter if she is wearing a revealing top or a Burka. It doesn’t matter if she is 8 or 80. She is just a piece of meat. As long as she has a pair of boobs and a piece of ass, right? If that is the case, don’t you have a sister or a mom at home? Oh, did I strike a nerve there? Was I too vulgar and ‘unlady-like’? Then why doesn’t it occur to you that we are somebody’s sister and daughter, too. Actually I am just curious! Why do you do it? Do you think she is going to turn back and declare her eternal love for you? Or is it just a way to show us your macho-ism and to prove to yourself how much of a “man” you are. Honestly, I am just trying to understand your side of the story now.
Do you think it makes us feel special? Like a princess, who is adored by a charming prince? If that is the case, I am here to tell you, NO. Definitely not. It is humiliating to feel that it may turn into something from which I can’t protect myself. I feel cheap. Vulnerable and scared. Trust me, it is not a fun feeling. It happens to us, even if we are strong, fit and brave. I remember an incident, when I was 10 or 12, my dad made me change a sleeveless top, because he was taking me out in a bus. It made me so angry that time because he made me change my pretty top, and later because he made ME change it, instead of scolding the guy, who would, he thought, will tease me. But now I understand his position that day. And I will do the same thing, if I didn’t know any better. I would rather have my daughter angry at me for a few days than having her loose the confidence and think that it was her top that attracted unwanted attention.
It just boggles my mind, because, I can’t ever imagine a gentle men doing this. I can’t imagine my father or my brother, whistling at a girl or making that awful ‘kissy’ noises. Not because she is a “girl”, because she is a fellow human being, not a dog. I will not do this to a man either, not even if he is six packed, well toned, bare chested man. Even if I don’t know him, I respect him as a human and will not treat him as a piece of meat. That is not normal!
So, next time you think of cat calling a girl, know that she will not be silent all the time. She may have a fist that can connect well with your jaw.
Cheers! *Rises kappi tumbler* 🙂