It's just the curse of being a girl

I have to confess, I haven't posted nearly as much as I would like to because I've been busy. Dealing with job hunting, roommate issues, getting ready for school, and working a part-time temp job in the meantime, but I felt like writing now because of something that happened today.

I had my MFA orientation this morning, and it went splendidly. Afterwards, I had to head to the Post Office for a money order. As I exited near the corner of Nostrand Avenue and Avenue J, I heard kissy noises fired in my direction, followed by a "Hey, sexy!"

Slightly shaken, mostly angry, I turned to find the source of the offending noises, a squat little troll sitting in the passenger seat of a dark-colored, sedan-type car. He continued with the kissy noises as I looked at him for half a moment. Then, appropriately, I flipped him the bird and started walking towards the Metro station.

He was clearly Not Happy that I had rejected his generous "compliments" in such a flippant manner. The troll taunted me as I continued walking: "You can shove that up your ass, sunshine!" and the like. This is what we females are supposed to consider "just a compliment"?

Oh, and did I mention that he was actually following me in his car as this happened?

I have to admit: I was a little bit afraid because in that instant, I didn't know what this dude was going to do. I continued down Nostrand Avenue towards the train stop, trembling with rage, my mouth filling with saliva, ready to hock a loogey in this guy's direction if he came within spitting distance of me. Eventually, he got stuck at a red light and I escaped into a crowd. Relief.

I understand that catcalls are an unfortunate aspect of being female and living in a city, but still, it angers me that women must accept second-class status, particularly with regard to personal safety. We shouldn't have to shrug off some douchebag's backasswards idea of a compliment, we shouldn't have to carry pepper spray or look over our shoulders every few steps.

Perhaps my actions could have provoked this Neanderthal to violence. I'm lucky that didn't happen, but I don't regret my actions, either. If you can, I encourage every woman finding herself in a similar predicament to do the same thing I did. Respond. Let the offender know that you do not appreciate his harassment, that you are not some passive object existing only for his viewing pleasure. Flipping the bird is certainly not the most creative response to a catcaller, but catcallers, by their very nature, are uncreative beings.

If I have to give the self-described pickup artists credit for anything, it's for having at least a little more creativity than their wolf-whistling counterparts.