Quit being a pussy about catcalls.

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Anyone else see this video about a chick walking around New York for 10 hours?

Getting cat called?

For whatever dumb reason, this played out under-cover video thing has stood out from the others enough to make every friend and their mother, mother’s mother, and fairy godmother share this shiz on my Facebook feed. Some of them have even asked me to comment. And I can’t, really. I mean, there’s nothing that stands out about it other than if she did the 10 hours straight. ‘cause like, that’s impressive. And then maybe they were just cheering her on.

You know, like when Forrest Gump started running?

And people started randomly joining him?

Like encouraging him and being motivated? By jogging beside him in silence?

After friend 12,005 shared this video, I finally broke down and watched the stupid thing.

And… I still don’t see the point.

The point in filming it or the point they’re trying to make.

As a human woman, I get catcalled sometimes. I just got catcalled in the Wawa fifteen minutes ago (I assume it’s ’cause I just got done running and look like I’ve been simultaneously drowned and electrocuted so I seem like someone who’d be easy to pick up). But you know what I did? I smiled nicely and left the store. I can’t change what other people do – just like I can’t change that summer changes into not-summer. Or the fact that George Clooney is now married.

What I can change is my reaction, though. For a good, long time my reaction would be to stick my nose up in the air and ignore the human being on the other end of the ridiculous words being shouted at or nicely issued to me alike. Now, I kind of want to know what motivates people to say the things they do. You can’t tell me it’s just the hope of sex every single time. I mean, biologically, yes. That might be a subconscious motivation. But I’m sure not every one of these people are singularly motivated by that when they scurry by and issue a “have a beautiful day!”. At least some of these (and probably a majority that got edited out because it didn’t serve their point), are just attempts to make a human connection. Even if it’s poorly executed. Some of them (those dudes sitting together, for instance) are just trying to impress their friends. Some just want validation, saying “Am I too ugly?” – and yeah – why should women be the only ones called beautiful? When I say, “You too!” to that compliment and go on my merry way, it may throw them off. But it’s nicer than saying to fcck off with a bitchface and pretending you’re not even members of the same species.

What I’d almost rather do is a similar video with a chick who responds to everything.

Nicely, but non-flirty, maybe like this:

Dude: “Ay, mami!”
Chick: “Hey, papi! Have a good day, my friend!”

Dude: “Smile, baby!”
Chick: “But what if I’m sad?”

Dude: “Damn!”
Chick: (runs over to his side with concerned look on her face)
“What?
What?!
What are we looking at?
What happened?”

On a street at night, I wouldn’t advise it, no.

But in the light of day, it’s not like someone’s gonna club you over the head and drag you back to their cave with everyone watching. So, why not reply? What’s the harm? When I feel weird about responding, it’s because it means I might have to interact with a stranger, they might use that as an in to get closer and speak with me, maybe even ask me out, and then I have to find a nice way to say no. But why not work on finding nice ways to say no? It’s annoying to be nice, but it can sometimes have the benefit of putting me in a good mood. So why not use catcallers for practice? People might say, “but then what if they get the wrong idea and follow me home?” Mmhmm. Yeah, and why take a chance with any interaction in life then? Are the chances really any different than when you take a chance and go on a miscellany of dates with more handsome and clean shaven men? Only to learn several years later that the one who was in law school with a bright future in politics was a necrophiliac serial murderer?

I’m not saying to go through life doe eyed and dumb.

I carry my mace and cover my ass and scan my surroundings for evil everywhere I go. But it doesn’t stop me from trying to dredge up a modicum of empathy when I can. So the next time a dude comes up and says something, try to say something uninviting but nice back if you can. Unless he’s covered in blood, maybe. And should they ask for your number or a date, maybe you can try what I did a few weeks ago – force a smile (not because it’s a woman’s duty to look pretty and smile but just as a show of general kindness), and say, “I really appreciate your kind gesture, but I can’t. Thank you so much though for saying hello. So many men just try to hit on me – but not you. If nothing else good happens in my life today, at least I encountered you – a stranger who wanted nothing more from me than basic human connection of saying ‘hi’…”

I mean, when I tried it, the dude paused, laughed, said ‘okay’, and drove off.

But being a clown is better than being a pussy. Or needlessly being cruel.

I realize I’m defying femme club rules by having written this.

But I’m okay with that. ‘cause when we can, we should all avoid being assholes.

Regardless of what organs sit anterior to your actual asshole.

It’s not rocket science, beautiful-sexxyyymami-hot-asssss.