As a feminist, I cannot stand catcalling. It makes a woman feel objectified, threatened, and maybe a little wet if the guy was hot and she felt fat that day and needed a reminder she was still fuckable.
Every woman’s had this experience: you’re walking down the street, just minding your own business, when some dickbag yells “nice ass” at you out his window. It totally makes you feel unsafe. Until you notice that you got catcalled from a Lexus, and that the dickbag kinda looks like Ryan Gosling/Reynolds/Seacrest, and you weren’t wearing any makeup that day so it’s actually pretty feminist that he deemed you pretty. And since you’ve been self-conscious of how small your ass is based on society’s expectation of a slim waist but still a huge donk, it’s even more feminist of him to follow you for two blocks just to let you know that your ass is so nice he “could stick his entire face in it.” His entire, well-groomed face.
But ladies, don’t forget: catcalling is less about attraction than it is power. Catcalling is a not-so-subtle way for men to remind us that we’re nothing more than prey with tits. Literally. That’s what he called me from his Lexus. Ugh, now I’m a little turned on.
Anyway, it’s time we stop letting men get away with this. It’s up to us to start the conversations with catcallers, maybe by speed-walking behind their Lexus for another block and writing our phone number on his window in lipstick. Men, take it from me, women do not want to be catcalled…just called. Seriously. Call me.