Sometimes I Hate Being a Woman

*This article was originally posted on Medium.

January 18, 2022

I was walking out of an appointment when a car pulled up in front of me.

The driver rolled down their window, and I noticed it was a man.

I thought maybe he needs directions or is a Lyft driver.

He spoke fast, and I didn't catch what he was saying.

I immediately replied, "Sorry, what?"

He replied, "Are you Mexican?"

And just like that, my confusion was cleared up in an instant.

I immediately knew where this was going because I've been in this situation one too many times.

I stood there with a blunt look on my brown face and said, "No."

He proceeded to comment on how pretty I was in Spanglish, blew kisses at me, and then drove away.

Mind you; it's been a few months since someone has done that to me. I was reminded of the downside to the female experience a little early this year.

When I got to my car, I couldn't wrap my head around what had just happened. I started critiquing my outfit.

Is it my curves, workout clothes, or hair?

It was 27 degrees outside that day; it wasn't like I was wearing revealing clothing. I was wearing a red jacket, leggings, and a face mask. It seemed like all I did to deserve those comments was look and dress like a woman.

May 11, 2021

It was almost the beginning of summer, and I was working as an activity aide in a nursing home.

It was the early afternoon, and I finished gathering some residents into the dining hall to play bingo.

As I was setting up tables, greeting everyone, and passing out treats, a male voice started calling 'princess' over and over again.

At first, I thought it was someone who had just walked in. In my mind, I didn't assume they were trying to get my attention.

He finally said my name out loud.

I turned, and I noticed it was someone I knew very well.

I immediately frowned because I didn't understand why he would decide to call me that.

Jokingly, I replied, "Princess? Who are you calling Princess?"

He smiled, laughed, and replied, "I'm calling you Princess. You're beautiful, that's why."

I played it off, deflected my attention elsewhere, and proceeded to go along with bingo.

In reality, I was bothered by it. I thought to myself, -

Why would he say that?

He's never said anything like that to me before.

Should I have told him to not call me that?

Or am I just reading into it too much?

I let that one instance slide, and every time I met with him to do activities, he would give me comments on my looks and hair all the time. After a while, I started to think that maybe calling him out on it the first time wasn't such a bad idea.

October 2017

At this time, I was living and going to school in California.

I had just finished my last class of the day.

I remember it was really hot, and I decided to sit in the shade.

I was waiting for one of my family members to come to pick me up.

I pulled out a snack and began to eat. I decided to call my boyfriend who had just gotten home from work.

From around the corner, I could see the elote man passing by.

He stopped and took a seat in front of me.

At first, I thought of buying something, but I remembered I didn't have any cash.

He wiped his face with a wet rag and drank some water.

He was older, maybe in his mid-forties.

He moved from sitting in front of me to next to me on the bench.

I scooted over because it felt awkward.

I'm still on the phone with my boyfriend, and there was a bench across from me that was perfectly fine for sitting.

He kept asking me what I was doing and who I was talking to.

When he proceeded to invade my personal space, I stopped talking and unplugged my headphones so my boyfriend could hear the conversation.

He was giving me comments in Spanish. Telling me how beautiful I was, how pretty my legs were, and kept asking me what I was doing later.

I grabbed my bag to move and walk away.

While I was still seated, he immediately stood up in front of me and put his hand on the wall behind me.

He leaned in and asked me what was wrong with me, and why wasn't I saying anything back to him.

He looked down at my lap and saw my boyfriend's face staring at him.

He took his hand off the wall and rushed his cart away.

My boyfriend was telling me to go to campus police and report him. He was upset at the time because this was when we were long-distance. As much as I felt helpless, so did my boyfriend.

Even though I could see my boyfriend's frustration, I was stuck processing the situation in my mind.

At that moment, I felt helpless, weak, and scared.

This was the first time a man had ever gotten in my face and aggressively verbally harassed me in this way.

I decided to only write about these three instances.

Looking back on these memories makes me feel frustrated, irritated, and angry. I decided to write about this because these experiences deserve to be heard. Whether it be in person, on social media, or even online playing video games; I've experienced things like this my whole life. This experience keeps repeating itself, and honestly, it needs to stop.

Whether it be the false sense of entitlement or lack of human decency - either way, I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of experiencing it, reading about it, and knowing that this behavior is still happening today. I'm tired of people who feel like they can just come up to you, harass you, badger you with nonsense, and think they can get away with it. What hurts me the most is knowing that this doesn't just happen to me, it happens to people of all ages.

The worst part about something like this is that somehow, we always assume it's because of something we did ourselves. In my experience, I felt like I gave them a reason to do it. I thought maybe it was because of my hairstyle, clothes, or features that justified why these things happened to me.

But the truth is, it doesn't matter what you look like, what you're wearing, or who you're with. As long as you look or sound like a female, it gives certain people permission to harass and give unsolicited sexualized comments.

If you're someone who has experienced any form of harassment, don't hesitate to speak out.

I held onto these feelings for a long time, and to be honest, I'm not sure why. In some way, I felt insecure and ashamed. I didn't want to let others know that this happened to me before. When these things first happened, I didn't want to make it seem like they affected me in the way that they did. I hid it because I didn't want others to grow concerned or feel sorry for me. In reality, sometimes I have nightmares about my worst experience. Deep down, I still fear that my first experience can repeat itself.

There are resources out there to educate others about different types of harassment. Movements are formed when we decide to stand up and do something about it. This isn't something we should feel the need to be ashamed of or keep locked away. These experiences need to be told and heard.

To my readers, if you decided to click on this article and read it all the way through , thank you. Thank you for giving this your attention, and I appreciate you supporting my work. Peace and love.