"You know, you'd be a lot prettier if you smiled more." "Hey babe, wanna fu*k me," and when ignored , "You're a flat-assed bitch." A couple of the comments made by complete strangers while I was walking down the sidewalk. The trauma of being a female in public has never quite left me, even though I acquired a drop-dead stare down.
"You know, you'd be a lot prettier if you smiled more." "Hey babe, wanna fu*k me," and when ignored , "You're a flat-assed bitch." A couple of the comments made by complete strangers while I was walking down the sidewalk. The trauma of being a female in public has never quite left me, even though I acquired a drop-dead stare down.
It is traumatic to be female and out in public without someone walking with you. In 1991, I had a short haircut. My hairdresser suggested that I let him have his way with my hair, and I liked it, so I kept it for a while. I didn’t have a car back then, and I had a dentist appointment that was close enough to walk to, so I was walking. I was wearing jeans and a jean jacket like a lot of people my age did back then. So I’m walking along, and this car full of young men, probably a couple years younger than I was, slowed down to jeer at me because they thought I was a lesbian. One of them offered to rape me so I would know what it was like to be with a man. I was pretty grateful to be on a busy street in broad daylight, let me tell you.
"You know, you'd be a lot prettier if you smiled more." "Hey babe, wanna fu*k me," and when ignored , "You're a flat-assed bitch." A couple of the comments made by complete strangers while I was walking down the sidewalk. The trauma of being a female in public has never quite left me, even though I acquired a drop-dead stare down.
It is traumatic to be female and out in public without someone walking with you. In 1991, I had a short haircut. My hairdresser suggested that I let him have his way with my hair, and I liked it, so I kept it for a while. I didn’t have a car back then, and I had a dentist appointment that was close enough to walk to, so I was walking. I was wearing jeans and a jean jacket like a lot of people my age did back then. So I’m walking along, and this car full of young men, probably a couple years younger than I was, slowed down to jeer at me because they thought I was a lesbian. One of them offered to rape me so I would know what it was like to be with a man. I was pretty grateful to be on a busy street in broad daylight, let me tell you.
Yep. You're a lesbian or you're frigid - commonplace responses from strange men whose ugly invitations to fu*ck them were rejected.
They hassled me because of the way I looked. Short hair, jeans and jean jacket…I looked too “butch” for them to ignore me.