What in the world makes men believe that approaching a group of women by saying, “God told me to come over here and tell you all how sexy you are…”? Like seriously…how in the HELL does that even make sense? You believe in God, eh? So God is a perverted man who can’t handle seeing three young women in shorts? That makes sense. Patriarchal society tends to think that hitting on females at any time, in any place, and using any excuse to do this, is acceptable. Well, it isn’t.
Sure, random compliments can be nice. Sometimes, especially if one is having a bad day, hearing “you’re pretty”, or “damn, that girl is foiiiinnnneee”, may put a smile on your face…but on the day-to-day basis…STOP. I’m walking down the street with my little sister and her best friend and countless men approached us (usually they were homeless-esque, druggie-esque, and disgusting-esque). Why in the world do you think that it is acceptable to go hit on girls who are OBVIOUSLY a lot younger than you, who are having a good time, and feel awkward when you ask, “damn girls, what you are fine ladies doing tonight? Can I join?”…NO you may absolutely not. Please walk 20 ft in front of us. Please do not take a picture of our asses. Please do not look at me since you obviously can’t keep your mind out of the gutter and your dick in your pants. Get a fuckin’ life.
Obviously, this rant is coming from somewhere…so this is where:
Last night, I went on a long walk with my little sister and her good friend. We were all wearing shorts but not skanky shorts. We all are beautiful – but we also don’t try too hard. We don’t wear makeup. We don’t dress to get attention from men. We’re just ourselves. We are comfortable in our bodies. And yes, we are all pretty damn beautiful. However, none of this gives a random guy the right to blatantly and disgustingly hit on us at every crosss-treet and corner.
After our adventure to East Hall, a little struggle going down a big hill, covered in foliage, in the dark…and a quick fence hopping…we ended up at Forth Coast. This awesome coffee shop has been around for YEARS and serves as a 24-hour hangout that most Vine neighborhooders and downtown folks frequently use as a gathering place, a work station, or just to enjoy some of the best espresso in Kalamazoo (not to mention having a damn good restaurant upstairs)
We ordered a few teas and decided to split a blueberry muffin all while reviewing our Vine videos and enjoying conversation about menstrual cycles, leg imperfections, and boobs. Not even 5 minutes after sitting down, we were approached by a young-ish man wearing headphones who literally came over and said, “God told me to come over here and tell you all how sexy you are…” and proceeded to ask us if we believed in God. All three of us are hippy/witchy women and no, we don’t believe that Jesus died to save our sins. We don’t believe that God is a man (although men find that this argument is ridiculous and one day, we will see the truth). We don’t believe that people “talk” to God. We don’t believe that we need to be saved so we go to heaven. We DO believe in karma, positive thought, Mother Earth, joy, and love. None of those things come along with some guy hitting on you in the name of the Lord. That is just fucked up.
Well, since we are all pretty outspoken – we shared our beliefs with him and asked him to please leave so we could go back to enjoying our trio adventure. Unfortunately, after spending 6+ years in the downtown area, I have experienced this a handful of times.
Do we, as women, feel it is necessary to dress in armor to avoid unwanted advances? Can’t men just realize that yes, women have boobs, and asses, and legs, and smiles, and nice hair…but that doesn’t give them an open invitation to solicit their undying love of the female body. Across the world, stories of sexual assault and rape are being documented and discussed. Fashion designers are starting to realize that modest clothes protect women…but shouldn’t women be able to wear shorts in the summertime without fear? I think so.
Here are a few really interesting articles: