Stand Up, Be Counted, Slut Walk
This past weekend, I popped my protest cherry by marching alongside women of all ages, races and religions at London’s Slut Walk. It’s an event and subject I feel strongly about and the day itself made me even more passionate about it. There were women in that 5000+ strong crowd who had been victims of rape themselves, there were men who marched along to show their support. It felt good to crowd the streets of London, make the traffic stop and and draw attention to the heinous culture of victim blaming that goes on world wide.
As we stormed the London streets on Saturday, a defining moment for me was when we walked past a group of builders. They downed tools and just stared at us, open mouthed. No cat calls, no wolf whistles, no smarmy comments – they read the signs, they shut up. I’m sure for many women there it was the first time we’ve managed to walk past a building site and not had our anatomy dissected by men who are often older than us, probably with daughters our age.
This is what I think gets misunderstood. There’s a difference between someone paying you a compliment and someone wolf whistling or saying ‘nice tits’. I have had men say to me in the street ‘you look nice today’ and been bowled over by the fact they seem to have manners. It’s such a rarity. The majority of the time, I get hissed at, whistled at (you know, like you would an animal), told I have nice tits, nice legs, told I should wear my skirt a little shorter, told how nice my ass looks. When your first comment to me is sexual, how am I to know you’ll just leave it at a comment? What may be an innocent comment to you, I have no choice but to take a a possible threat.
I know plenty of women who say if they don’t get whistled at when they pass a building site, it’s a bad day. I think it’s a shame that your self esteem is so low that you need vulgar men to comment on your tits to feel like you’re worth a damn. That attitude contributes to a culture that degrades women. Learn to value yourself rather than looking to others for reassurance.
I’m tired of being told to be safe, be careful, watch my back, don’t come home too late, cover up, as I’m sure so many other women are too. I’ve had it my whole life. Alternatively, I don’t often hear young boys being lectured on how to treat women. So, until that day comes, I’ll still take my iPod off if I’m walking home alone at night so I can hear if someone’s behind me. I’ll still cross the street. I’ll still box, partly because yes, I want to keep fit, but also because I want to know, should the worst ever happen, that I might be able to handle myself. I’ll still call someone when I’m in a cab, just in case the driver gets any funny ideas. I’ll still send the ‘I’m home safe’ text, because someone will always worry.
Every woman has these things she must do, these ideas she feels keep her safe, because we know, deep down, that if we are ever assaulted, it’s our behaviour that’s put under the microscope, our sexual history that’s dissected, our attire that’s seen as consent. And with a 6.5% conviction rate on rape cases in this country and more than 95% of rapes going unreported, can we really afford to think any other way?
It’s time for change.
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Tags: London Slut Walk, rape, Slut Walk
