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Everyday sexism and harassment of others

 Have you ever met a woman who has never, not once in her life, had to deal with sexism? If you have, I congratulate you. I've never met one. Sexism, as the definitions below show, is when a person is treated a certain way or discriminated against based on their gender. The term is often used to refer to discrimination or prejudice against/about women, however can be applied to men equally.

Every woman will have a different view of what words, actions or behaviour she sees as sexist. Two women, two people, might see an action or event differently, based on their life's experiences and their own frame of reference. What one might see or experience as sexism might just be a joke to another, might be a throw-away comment, or might be something that barely registers. 

SEXISM:
"Prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, 
typically against women, on the basis of 
sex: 'sexism in language is an offensive 
reminder of the way the culture sees women'
The definition of sexism according to Oxford Dictionary

As a woman in my late thirties, I'm starting to get to a point in my life where catcalling, wolf-whistles and 'psssst' sounds as I walk past are starting to ease up. They're not gone, but I am happy, very happy, that these things don't happen as often as they used to. It makes me feel safer. Less of a target. Less at risk. Still not safe, still not 'not a target' or 'not at risk'. I'm not sure we'll ever get to that point in my lifetime. But in this case 'less' is definitely an improvement, as far as I'm concerned.

My first full-time job was at a supermarket. On the weekends, there were four of us who covered my department. Myself, and three guys about the same age as me. As I worked more hours and had more experience, I was in charge on the weekends when the regular staff wasn't there. One time, a new general manager came to ask a question. 
The manager went to the tallest of the boys first. Boy number one sent the manager to me. 
The manager then went to boy number two, the slightly less tall one. Boy number two sent the manager to me as well. 
Then, the manager went to boy number three, the shortest of them. Only when boy number three sent this manager to me, did he actually come to me. 
Perhaps I didn't look important enough? Perhaps I didn't look old enough to know what I was doing? Perhaps being shorter than the guys made me look younger?
And, just perhaps, the very male manager automatically assumed that because I was a girl, shorter than the others there, that I couldn't possibly be the one to ask? Now frankly that last excuse works if I had only one colleague. But not when this manager went to all *three* of my male colleagues, who all told him to come to me. Sexism? You bet your ass that it was. 

Feeling afraid when walking around my home town after 8pm, being cautious no matter where I go, noticing the people around me not to see if there's anyone I know and want to say hi to, but to assess if they might be a threat... Quite honestly, that sucks. Going through life knowing that some random stranger might want to attack you, harass you, feel you up without your permission, grab you between the legs because they can get away with it while you're walking down a crowded street and won't be able to tell who grabbed you... That sucks too. And that last one, yeah, the first time that happened to me was when I was thirteen or fourteen, following my mother as we were weaving through a crowd trying to get from one store to another in a crowded street.

Being touched without consent in what my mother used to euphemistically call 'your private place' is a form of sexual assault. As far as types of sexual assault go, I guess I can call it 'pretty mild'. It wasn't prolonged contact. No-one held me down or threatened physical violence. There was certainly no penetration. While I definitely felt violated, it was a random act by an opportunist. Yet, this experience has stayed with me my entire life. Even today, more than twenty years later, I get angry when I remember it. Still feel violated and outraged. This one quick grab by a random stranger as he walked along a crowded street, something he might not even remember anymore, is something that has impacted my life more than he will ever know. 

In the years since this first assault by a stranger, a lot worse has happened and been done to me. I've been threatened with a knife while being fondled. Have been jumped on the street. Have had my behind touched more times than I can count or even remember by strangers in crowded streets or on public transport. I've even been date-raped while thankfully very out-of-it and unable to put up a fight or comprehend the horror of what was happening. Even now, that last experience is mostly a hazy memory. I can remember it as something that happened, yet there is no horror attached to the memory.

None of what happened is 'okay'. None of what happen is 'right'. I didn't ask for it. I didn't invite assault. I wasn't given the chance to say NO. And if, in 2022, there is still anyone out there who thinks that perhaps I 'asked for it', let me be clear: I did not and still do not dress to attract men or to look attractive. I wear no make-up. Wear jeans, hoodies and sneakers most days. I wear muted colours. Never ever show cleavage. Even in summer, I wear long skirts or jeans. I don't go around smiling at strangers. Don't go to bars on my own. I don't make eye-contact with people I don't know if there's no reason to. I have earphones in, even if I'm not listening to music, just to discourage contact. Whenever I leave the house I make sure that I carry a bag and walk fast, as if I've got places to be and things to do, even when randomly going for a walk to enjoy the sunshine or catch a breeze in the middle of summer.

Why, in 2022, do I still feel the need to explain that I'm not 'asking for it' and never have? Why do we still live in a world where one group of people seems to think that it is 'okay' or 'fine' or 'acceptable' to treat another group of people as playthings, as sexual objects, as less than them? It wasn't 'okay' that some random stranger grabbed a little girl between the legs in a crowded street. It wasn't 'fine' to be threatened with a knife by someone bigger and larger than I was as they fondled me. And even though it may seem like it has less of an impact than rape or assault, even the supposedly small things like cat-calling, wolf-whistling and strange sounds from men as they walk past really, really are not 'acceptable'. I am a person. I have a brain. I've got a good job that I am bloody awesome at that has absolutely nothing to do with my looks or my exterior and *everything* to do with my brains, my grit, my determination and even my people-skills. I am a daughter, a grand-daughter, a sister, a niece, a cousin, a coach, a manager, a neighbour, a colleague, a friend, a partner... I am so much more than just my exterior. And yet, as the few examples above have shown, none of the men involved in the above examples saw me as a person. Not really. They saw the outside, with no regard for the person on the inside. And that, dear readers, is what needs to change if we truly want to be equals, if we truly want all women to feel safe. If you want a better world for the girls and the women in your life, if you want them to feel safe when walking down the street... Start with yourself and the men you know. Start by looking at people as people and not as objects. I'm not asking you to close your eyes and never look at a woman again, or to somehow throw out your hormones. But I am asking you to look beyond just the visual, just the outside. Because whatever you do to another, imagine how it feels when a stranger does that to your mother, to your sister, to your niece, to your daughter. Would you want her to experience whatever you're doing to another? If the answer is no... Then frankly, you have your answer. 
 

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