My misguided misandry
I've been guilty of a little misandry lately.
My dislike of men occurred slowly, cementing over a series of incidents during my time in London.
Several months ago a group of men on the tube leered at me so crudely that I got off five stops early to wait for the next train.
Walking home from the bus stop two teenagers followed closely behind me, hissing at me. One of them said he'd like to show me a good time all night.
A man on the bus sat across from me, staring at me so intently that I moved seats. When he got off at the same stop as me, I rang a friend and told her very loudly that I'd be home in five minutes.
At Tesco a man told me, 'smile princess, the world isn't ending'. I almost threw a jar of tomato sauce at his smug head.
I don't hate the men around me. I totally love them. My two male flatmates are both hilarious geniuses. All of my male friends are lovely and funny and respectful and all-round excellent individuals.
But I'm exhausted and frustrated by the men in London (and indeed all over the world) who feel it's appropriate to make women feel uncomfortable in a public space. I'm tired of always being cautious, of always carrying my phone in one hand, and my keys between my fingers in the other. My body doesn't become public property the minute I step out the door. I know some men would think otherwise, that by me writing this I'm being precious. I know that these men would tell me to 'lighten up', that they're simply showing their appreciation.
But there's a way to do that without making women feel uncomfortable and at times frightened.
Today I went to buy some groceries at the corner store. As I was paying at the register, the man said, 'you are beautiful'. I said thank you, and gathered my shopping very quickly, assuming he was going to follow up by saying something involving my mouth and his nether regions. But instead he said, 'my father told me that whenever I see something beautiful, I should tell them that. Even if it's just the sun, or a nice meal. We're all God's creations and we're all lucky to have the opportunity to see beauty every day.'
Well I damned near burst into tears right then and there.
I had totally forgotten that not all strangers are pigs.
So thank you random shopkeeper for giving me a little reprieve from my misguided misandry. Today you've restored my faith in mankind.
My dislike of men occurred slowly, cementing over a series of incidents during my time in London.
Several months ago a group of men on the tube leered at me so crudely that I got off five stops early to wait for the next train.
Walking home from the bus stop two teenagers followed closely behind me, hissing at me. One of them said he'd like to show me a good time all night.
A man on the bus sat across from me, staring at me so intently that I moved seats. When he got off at the same stop as me, I rang a friend and told her very loudly that I'd be home in five minutes.
At Tesco a man told me, 'smile princess, the world isn't ending'. I almost threw a jar of tomato sauce at his smug head.
I don't hate the men around me. I totally love them. My two male flatmates are both hilarious geniuses. All of my male friends are lovely and funny and respectful and all-round excellent individuals.
But I'm exhausted and frustrated by the men in London (and indeed all over the world) who feel it's appropriate to make women feel uncomfortable in a public space. I'm tired of always being cautious, of always carrying my phone in one hand, and my keys between my fingers in the other. My body doesn't become public property the minute I step out the door. I know some men would think otherwise, that by me writing this I'm being precious. I know that these men would tell me to 'lighten up', that they're simply showing their appreciation.
But there's a way to do that without making women feel uncomfortable and at times frightened.
Today I went to buy some groceries at the corner store. As I was paying at the register, the man said, 'you are beautiful'. I said thank you, and gathered my shopping very quickly, assuming he was going to follow up by saying something involving my mouth and his nether regions. But instead he said, 'my father told me that whenever I see something beautiful, I should tell them that. Even if it's just the sun, or a nice meal. We're all God's creations and we're all lucky to have the opportunity to see beauty every day.'
Well I damned near burst into tears right then and there.
I had totally forgotten that not all strangers are pigs.
So thank you random shopkeeper for giving me a little reprieve from my misguided misandry. Today you've restored my faith in mankind.
I guess what I'm saying is that while I'll always be infuriated by the douchecanoes that harass women regularly, I know that there are some gems out there - undoing all the damage, making it a better place for women. And to these men I say, thank you, you are beautiful.
And now for some video goodness - Tatyana Fazlalizadeh is a Brooklyn-based artist who put posters up all around Brooklyn with compelling images of women and anti-harassment slogans such as, 'My name is not baby', and 'Women are not seeking your validation'. Powerful stuff.
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