Two steaks walk into a grille. One orders
textured vegetable protein. The other
orders a rack of ribs. The first steak
says, “How can you eat that? It comes
from where you come from.” The second
steak says, “This place serves pork ribs.”
The second steak offers the first a rib.
The first steak says, “I don’t eat pork.”
The second steak asks, “Why not?”
The first steak says, “Ethical reasons.”
And then it gets pretty quiet. The steaks
don’t know how to talk to each other
about this. Their friendship suffers.
Also yesterday, a guy was talking to me outside the T. He was oldish, had a stoner-y air to him. He said "Hi" and nodded his head a lot. I said hello back, and he said I had nice hair, and I said thanks, and then he said I was really cute, and I said thanks and walked away, and as I was walking away he said I had a "nice ass."
So that made me feel pretty sick inside. I started looking at my own sexuality through a lens I would never have asked for. I correctly predicted that sound clip popping into my head the next time I was in the shower, also predicted it popping into my head and stopping me the next time I masturbated (yet untested, won't let you know about it).
I think it sometimes must be very difficult to be a woman. I feel that having the experience of being catcalled might have brought me at least a little closer to genuine sympathy to that experience.