Flirt versus Leer

As some of you may recall, I wrote a post where I was somewhat excited to live in an area where my type of physique is considered attractive. Now it didn't mean that I thought that sexually objectifying women was fine, cause it's not. And it also didn't mean that sometimes it crossed an unexplainable line that made me feel, well, harassed. Lately, that line as been crossed so much that I'm constantly pissed walking down the street or going to my staff cafeteria. Seriously, at a library, I'm getting bullshit like, "You're so beautiful, oh you're married, he won't mind," or "Are you German?" (what does that even mean?) or "You must be a Capricorn because of all the earth tones you're wearing" (for the record, I'm a Pisces). Now, these sound fairly harmless, but when accompanied by that little something creepy--slowing down a car, standing too close, following me to my office--it takes on that "other" quality that makes me feel icky instead of, well, secretly flattered.

And then, this week, it totally hit me. The "line" is totally in the meaning behind the eyes. Sure, street harassment is a sign of rape culture, but sometimes the person doing it just seems like what I'm calling, "The Flirt." "The Flirt" is where the man will cajole me and smile or charm or say silly things like "Do you have an apple because you make eating that one look so good" until I finally give him my number, take his, smile, or just say hello. Or I walk away without any contact. But I do feel like I can walk away.

The other, which I'm now calling "The Leer," is the complete opposite. He turns my stomach, makes me feel trapped (even if the person is in a car 20 feet away), makes me feel unsafe, and, to put it mildly, makes me feel like an receptacle for his penis. These are the multiplying moments where I feel like I might not have the choice to walk away. Unlike "the Flirt" who would just beg for my number, "the Leer" would assault me if given half a chance.

Let's just say that sort of attention from men doesn't make me feel pretty. In fact, it doesn't make any woman feel pretty. Or, for that matter, safe.