It's Not Bragging, It's Resisting! (A Memo)

By Anči

Psst, guys! Complaining about cat-calling ISN'T tantamount to bragging about how "attractive" I am.
 (cause of all things I have to be proud of, why would my alleged fuckability-- which by the way is entirely dependent on the whims of a handful of sexist creeps-- make the cut? Duh.)

Not to mention, that I have no problem talking about how hot I am, without the aggressive promptings of a balding passer-by.  Don't believe me?  Here goes:  I'm a sexy bitch, with rosy apple cheeks, and the breasts of a young boy. (see? Easy.)

So yeah, I don't eagerly wait around for a bro to whistle at me in order to "finally" get the "opportunity" to let y'all know about how flyyyy I must be.  I can do that much more effectively, by.. simply posting a selfie, or straight up saying "daaamn I look good."

mexican magic

 But that brings me to something I've struggled with for a long time-- the momentary self-consciousness that arises whenever I choose to draw attention to predatory behavior. Sure, it never lasts long enough to deter me from speaking out, but it does give me pause. Because, regardless of how confident I am in my own convictions,  I still painfully aware of how needlessly vigilant society can be about keeping our lady egos in check. And I'm also aware that any feminine display of self-importance is instantly regarded with a kind of hostility rarely afforded to comparably confident men..
Of course the irony here is, that being catcalled has NEVER actually made me feel confident-- if anything, it's only served to strengthen the tedious constraints invoked in this aforementioned brand of know-your-place backlash. Get it? Catcalling puts us in our place,  while speaking out elevates us. Hence, speaking out must also be turned into a punishable offense. (anything to silence the uppity bitches right?  Like, "be grateful men want to fuck you, and stop pretending to be offended.")
And because I sense that some people still aren't buying what I'm selling, i'll put it in very plain vulgar terms:

The thing I deal with, when I talk about being cat-called is a strange man-- usually  middle aged, fat, and sweaty-- going out of his way TO LET ME KNOW not only that he would like to fuck me, but that he derives pleasure from my visible anxiety and discomfort at his unwelcome presence. (Sexy stuff, right? Makes a girl feel like a million bucks... NOT.)

Can I get this made into a shirt?

 Because getting approval from gross-looking, Panera middle-managers named Chet does NOTHING for a self-respecting broad like me, maybe it's time y'all stop flipping my harassment narratives into one of forced-self empowerment. (cause like I said, I only have to post a selfie to feel smug and sexy.)

And that's not to diss (both) women who do (inexplicably) happen to thrive on street-side creep attention.
Like, if that kind of dynamic conjures up feelings of pride and confidence in you-- then, you're very lucky because you happen to live in a world that's tailor-made for your ego. But if you're anything like me, or pretty much any other living woman, you'll quickly recognize this phenomenon for the intimidation shit-show it really is... and hopefully, turn that anger into feminism.

Stop Telling Women to Smile!

By Anči

I'd love to see someone tell this this lady to smile.

Just want to alert you all to a fantastic street art project called "Stop Telling Women to Smile" which aims to challenge one of the most predictable male-responses to contact with an unamused woman. That's right. We've all been on the receiving end of an unsolicited appeal to "smile." (Particularly those of us afflicted with resting bitch face syndrome.)

the original bitch face.

For some reason society has deemed it unacceptable for women to express anything other than  unbridled enthusiasm, when encroaching on a dude's line of vision. Reasons for this presumably include the inevitable disintegration of every bro-ego in the offending dame's proximity.... resulting in a "white male tantrum"-- the likes of which recently caused a government shutdown.
If you think about it though, it makes sense. If babes are going to take up space, it should be for the benefit of the surrounding boners: whether we're at school, at work, or at lunch.

You're right, this does feel more natural

 Actually scratch that. It makes no sense. In fact, it's that kind of attitude which often amounts to gendered-abuses like street harassment. (most "benevolently" manifested through dude nation's  cross-continental crusade to limit womanity's range of facial expressions to a generous:  happy, sympathetic, and horny. )

These public displays of male entitlement would be infuriating enough, without invoking the olde Patriarchal edict to "smile while female." For those of you not in the know, I am referring to the international "smiling dude-cree" supported and enforced by the babe-police. (otherwise known as "random-creeps-on-the-street.") Because apparently it's not enough that we're systematically surveyed for signs of sluttiness? (alliteration!) Or that the sanctity of our uteruses is routinely challenged, in an endless string of political plays? (See what I did there? Re-appropriating anti-choice language is my feminist super power)

Thankfully though, women like Tatyana Fazlalizadeh exist, to pioneer kickass campaigns like "Stop Telling Women to Smile." If it weren't for her, I'd probably be working on that other blog post i've been putting off. More importantly, womanity would be one movement-builder short of a teeming cooperative. (Just kidding. There's already more of us than the Manosphere can handle.)


That's all for now. Be sure to check out Tatyana's site, and spread the word.