I just turned 18, and this story is from a few months ago. I was sitting in the park with a male friend of mine, on a warm spring day. I was wearing a tight mini skirt and a t shirt. I got up and walked across the lawn to the park bathrooms. There were two men sitting on a concrete ledge outside the bathrooms – the man closest to me had grey hair and leathery, sun damaged skin, and his friend was young, maybe in his early twenties, good looking. As I walked past the older guy, he called after me, “Hey there, what’s your name? Spare a cigarette? Hey, who do you think is cuter, me or my friend?” I ignored them and went into the bathroom.
When I came back out, I walked past them quickly, hoping they had taken my silence for an answer and moved on. Instead, the same guy called out to me again, “Hey, come sit with us for a minute!” I kept walking away. “You’ve got nice legs! Thanks for wearing that skirt today and giving me something to look at!” I could hear them both laughing, and I walked even faster.
When I got back to the spot where my friend was waiting for me, I sat down and immediately told him what happened, and described how I wished I had flipped the guys off or yelled back at them, and complained about how this sort of thing happens to me almost every day. He laughed and said, “You do have nice legs though, I like to look at them too…”
I know that the way I dress influences the type and amount of comments I receive when I’m walking around my city alone. I dress however I want to regardless. I like the way I look and I refuse to change the way I present myself out of fear.
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