Catcalling vs. magic: How to talk to a stranger

It was Sunday morning and I was sitting on the bus on my way to work. By work I mean I was getting paid to hand out fliers. I was frustrated about pretty much everything. I hated the stupid t-shirt I was wearing for this job. I hated the fact that I was working on a Sunday, the day that was literally created for relaxation. I resented that at 24, this was my reality. I was trying to get an “in” with an organization I thought maybe I’d like to work for, but I wasn’t really sure of that or of anything else in my life. Stewing in my own self-pity, I looked over at the woman sitting nearby. You know that feeling of instantly hating a stranger because they seem to have everything you want? I immediately resented her. She looked like she was about my age. To me, she clearly had it all together. She was writing in a journal with perfect, beautiful handwriting as a bag of cookies rested in her lap. She’s probably on her way to volunteer with the elderly on her free Sunday before working at her perfect job tomorrow. Even in my head I knew that I sounded like a jealous little sister, envying her perfection and trying to belittle it. I finally looked away after I realized I had been staring at her for far longer than is societally appropriate. I was starting to feel a little bit psychotic.

The bus slammed to a halt as I looked at the floor. I felt her get up next to me and was suddenly startled when I felt something lightly touch my shoulder. It was her hand. She looked down at me earnestly and said, “I hope someone tells you everyday how beautiful you are.” My mouth opened and as I stared at her some sort of sound resembling thank you came out as she floated off the bus.

My mind reeled. This isn’t the first time that a stranger has commented on my appearance. As any woman knows, catcalls are a phenomenon that we are forced to grapple with daily. Do I ignore it? Am I in danger? Do I say thank you? Am I narcissistic for feeling flattered? The more and more it happens to us all, the less we ask that last question and the more and more offensive and hurtful it feels. I remember a man my father’s age in spandex shorts on a bicycle whizzing by me, walking in an oversized trench coat (literally the least sexy, most body-covering and bulky item of clothing that I own) yelling “DAMN girl you look good.” My eyes bulged out of my head at the absurdity. The shouts, stares, and gestures make me feel shitty every single time. Making up fictional boyfriends or plans, having a “bitch face” to evade men, taking certain routes to home or work to avoid hotbeds of objectification. These methods are all too common to most women, and thankfully are being highlighted more and more as women’s rights begins to settle in its new place among our other issues of (in)equality.

With this recent surge of anti-catcalling empowerment has come the backlash from the grumps who still maintain their traditional values of sugar coating sexual harassment to the men who just don’t understand the seriousness of the issue. The comments like, “Well, it is complimentary” I always find either incredibly patronizing or incredibly naïve. It’s the pegging of women as acting overly sensitive and the flat out ignorance of catcalling as a real and present problem of sexual harassment. This was especially apparent to me with the circulation of the video of Shoshana B. Roberts walking around New York City for ten hours and being subjected to hundreds of catcalls. I immediately internally applauded Shoshana but was quickly reminded that not everyone feels the same way I do. I read about online rape threats made to Roberts and was horrified to see backlash on my own Facebook feed. “I can’t tell a woman she’s beautiful? If you’re attractive you should expect it.”

I have news for you, gramps and bros! There IS such a thing as flattering a stranger, if that is what you feel so compelled to do. I’ll use my fairy bus-mother as an example. She was clearly not catcalling me. Nor, do I think, was she even really making a passing comment on my appearance. Somehow, she looked past my skin and saw all the self-doubt and fear that I had bottled up inside me. I was tired as hell from carrying all that around with me everywhere I went. By saying what she did, she expressed her hope that I have someone who loves me, sees me for me, and appreciates me. As it turns out, I didn’t feel like I had anyone at that moment. I was in a floundering casual relationship in which I felt invisible, my family was falling apart due to the recent divorce of my parents, and I was feeling distant from everyone I knew. Was I that obvious? Somehow she knew, and had hope for me. I never saw her again but her comment was so profound for it’s timing that I have thought about that moment and felt comforted over and over again ever since.

Of course I recognize the fact that it was not a man who made this comment to me. But genuine is genuine, and I think were I not so hardened to strange men’s comments, I would see the sincerity in this interaction if it had been from a man. So, go ahead, let those beautiful moments between strangers happen. They are magical and can be life saving. But please, please stop belittling those connections by inundating half the population with shallow comments about their outer shells. Stop shouting at us to smile, stop telling us we look good, stop asking where we’re going. That’s not magic. All anyone wants is to be seen past their skin. Start seeing and change will come.