What would you do?

It always starts the same.

"I was walking along, minding my own business when, BAM, I was getting catcalled."

But really, let's start by calling it what it actually is: Sexual harassment. I catcall when I see a stray kitten about to walk across a busy street.

When a human being is receiving unwanted sexual attention-- it is sexual harassment.

And the other day, I was walking along, minding my own business...

It was a pretty typical Tuesday-- we get in large orders of products on Tuesdays so I was checking in boxes, verifying dates and restocking the department. It's not a lot of fun, but these are actually a lot of fun sometimes because these are days when I get to interact with customers a little more. Walking past a few customers, saying hello, helping them navigate the store when...

BAM.

It's that look I know all too well. A cross between hunger and something I don't quite understand. It's not desire, or sexual, but possessive or owning, a look that I can't really describe. But when I see it, I know, I'm about to be catcalled-- excuse me-- sexually harassed. It always starts with the staring as I walk away, a low hum of 'appreciation' as I walk by. "Mm, mm, mm." As if I am not a human being, but a thing to be observed. I've heard this sound over dinner. I've made this sound over dinner.

But then it escalates. I'm forced to walk past this person again.

I'm being catcalled.

"Damn girl!" They call out across the store. I can feel the heat creeping over my face. Holy shit, this is happening. I'm at work. My co-workers hear it for sure. I'm embarrassed. I'm at work. Someone just catcalled me from across the store. And I'm embarrassed?! I walk quickly to the back of the store, hidden from that hungry gaze and loud mouth. I feel this knot in the pit of my stomach, the product of years of handling these situations. Flash backs of walks down the street at 16, people slowing down their cars and whistling out of windows as they drove by. People constantly asking me how old I was, as if learning that my body was more mature than my age was something that I would enjoy knowing others gained pleasure from. And now here I am, at work, in a trucker hat and pinstriped apron, being catcalled, yet again.

I didn't ask for this. And the fury that I felt at being so helpless to stop it from happening is what has delayed this post for so long. I talked to my manager later that day and asked what to do if this situation should arise again. And now that I know the protocol, I know that I have some power in these situations at work.

However.

What am I supposed to do when I'm walking down the street? Or leaving the gas station? Or out on the town with a friend? As women, we are taught how to avoid being victims. Don't look them in the eyes. Don't antagonized them. Don't confront them. Just keep walking. Get away.

Is it easier to objectify a passive object, or more difficult? What if the object is active? I think the short answer to any of these scenarios is no. And yet we are asked to treat our objectification objectively. To see catcalling as another way of saying something. Saying what?? Look at me? See me? Treat me like a person, even as I am treating you like a Barbie doll. See my humanity behind my hungry gaze and my aggressive and sexual words. See that I am just young and stupid, or old and entitled. See that I am just reaching out in the only way that I know how. Have compassion and understanding for my reasons for objectifying you.

Learn about me, but know that I already know everything that I need to know about you.

It's disgusting. Infuriating. And unacceptable.

But what if I weren't treated as an object at all, what if I wasn't treated as an image of 'woman' that has been reduced and digested by society a thousand times over? What if I were recognized as a woman with a mind and a heart and emotions, and not as a body for pleasure or possession?

To change this for the better, so that other human beings won't have to suffer under this dehumanizing gaze, what would you do?