09 5 / 2013
My Catholic high school did not require uniforms, but it did enforce a rule - girls couldn’t wear shorts or skirts shorter than 2 inches above the knee. Which, if you are a girl, you know is literally impossible to find in stores. Most of us decided either to break the rule and risk getting sent home or wear jeans even on the hottest days of fall and summer.
Senior year I finally decided, fuck it. There were only a few weeks of school left and I was tired of wearing jeans. I wore a short denim skirt with opaque tights underneath to school. During 8th period, the dean pulled me out of class to “talk” about my clothes. He said, "I am too embarrassed to even look at you right now." He didn’t send me home to change (obviously, there were only like 20 minutes of the school day left!).
I think the dean was right to be embarrassed. He should have been ashamed that he and the other adults at my high school sexualized young girls in short skirts.
I should also point out that this is far from the most ridiculous dress code crackdown that happened at my school. Once my (very tall) friend leaned over to put something in her locker and her shirt came up a bit, showing part of the small of her back. (I note that she was tall because it was hard for her to find shirts long enough to cover her torso). Anyway, the dean happened to walk by at that moment and he gave her 10 hours of community service.
18 5 / 2012
Tonight was the second time in like a month a guy on the street has said that to me. What, did all the local creeps have a meeting and decide that’s their new line?
And yeah, “hello beautiful” is better than “hey baby,” or whatever. But both times, the circumstances were weird. The first time, the guy was like a foot away from me on the sidewalk as I was walking by… like it was startling how close to me he was. The second time I was walking alone to my car in the dark, which was even creepier.
22 3 / 2012
I was walking back from the Y. I was sweaty and was wearing gym shorts, tennis shoes, and a large t-shirt.
I purposefully avoided eye contact with the man standing on the side of the road using a piece of construction equiptment. I felt him staring at me. I was almost past him when he said, “Hello, beautiful.”
I don’t care that he said it politely. I don’t care that it was supposed to be a ‘compliment.’ I am not walking down the street so that you can appreciate the way I look. I didn’t ask you what you think of me. I’m just walking home from my fucking Zumba class.