“You
are drawing quite a lot of attention to yourself.” A voice hissed from the side
of the skyway. I glanced in the direction of the words and saw an older man in
his seventies or so with a creepy glint in his eye. I picked up my pace and continued
walking toward my credit union. My mind reeled. Before the rude and unwanted interruption, I was serenely enjoying an escape from work without the lunch
crowd. It was only 10:30 in the morning and the skyway was nearly vacant. The
man, up until the moment he spoke, had been completely unassuming. I perhaps
would have even thought to myself, if I noticed him, a gentleman. Or no label
at all. Because, what is a gentleman, after all? But instead of just being two
humans passing in the skyway, he now became a creep in my mind.
Unfortunately,
only after several years of his voice haunting me was I able to admit I was
disgusted and disappointed. My initial feeling was creeped out, followed by
panic. But not because I thought this guy would “get” me. Instead I thought, “Oh
god, why I am drawing attention to myself?” and the only conclusion I could
come to was because of what I was wearing. How else does one draw attention to
oneself while walking through the skyway unless you are say… playing a guitar,
or have incredible B.O., or are running like Phoebe through the hallways of the
business folks? I was just walking to the bank. Minding my own business.
Upon
my return to the office, I told my friend about it. We laugh about it. And use
it as a line every now and then. Because we are goofballs. But the truth is, it
is scary. I still think about it when I wear the skirt I was wearing. Or the
boots I was wearing. Or the combination of them together again. His voice, his
words, crawl over my skin and slither along the back of my neck. And that is
the unfortunate thing.
I
didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I just was wearing what I thought was
a nice outfit, appropriate for a fall day in the office. I did not think, “Well,
let’s put on this skirt and see what kind of attention I get.” I don’t want
that kind of attention. If my girl friends tell me they like my outfit, that is
ok. Even my guy friends can say, in a normal tone, “Hey Coley, cool dress!” And
I will tell my guy friends, I love that tie! Or that color shirt looks really
awesome on you. But not “Nice pants.” While leering at his backside and
projecting a tone that indicates I love the way the pants hug his curves. Ew. Right?
Women get that a lot.
Comments
from strangers? They don’t feel good. No, that’s not true. I love when a female
admires my dress. Because it is not sexual. It is an acknowledgment of style
and class. And I reciprocate when I appreciate an outfit or dress, because it
is like receiving a warm fuzzy. But a male stranger commenting on my
appearance? No, thank you. It makes me uncomfortable.
Sure,
it could be an innocent remark, but it is all in the delivery and when paired
with a sinister oogle it strips any innocence and leaves a person feeling
violated and uncomfortable.
Next
time you choose to comment on someone’s appearance think of how it sounds. Is
it a warm-fuzzy, friendly “cool kicks!” or is it an objectifying, sexualized
remark? Who does this benefit?
Bottom line is: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. ~Thumper
