If you look closely at my face, you can see that I’m just barely concealing a scowl underneath. Why is that? What about this perfectly idyllic little town could make me burn with rage?
The answer: old white dudes.
When I’m out taking pictures, I’m very used to people taking second glances or even staring for a minute. I know it’s got to be strange to see someone twirling around and mugging at a camera by herself. But this time was different.
I had been at it for about fifteen minutes when this knot of older “gentlemen” started openly gaping at me. And then came the wolf whistles, and finally, out came their phones to take pictures of me. (Ironic, huh?)
I was really uncomfortable, and before I scurried off to a different spot, I told them, “I wish you guys would stop. You’re really creeping me out.” They laughed–an ugly, leering kind of laugh.
Well, I trooped on for a while longer, and they all got in a car and drove slowly past my new spot, growling and making other weird noises. Even though I was posing and the shutter was going off, I still flipped ’em the bird. And I said some things that I don’t think they expected to hear from a teensy blonde teetering in high heels.
I felt so defeated. What else could I do? I couldn’t beat them up. I couldn’t scare them into being decent human beings. I couldn’t get them to respect me. My only comfort is hoping that we’re raising the next generation of children to be respectful of one another and that these crotchety MFers will die off soon enough.
I could go on, but since most of you are also women, I’m pretty sure I’d be preaching to the choir. I just had to get this off my chest.