I got my daily dose of street harassment yesterday.
At 4.5 months pregnant, I’m still in the stomach phase of ‘I look like I ate too much.’ (Cohiba’s like: Yeah – if you ate a baby.) I was walking back to work from an afternoon coffee jaunt and these two young guys passed me. One of them yelled, “How far along are you?”
First of all: Thank God I really am pregnant, because it sucks when people assume that anyway.
Second: Who the hell are you and what on earth makes it your business?
Third: Shut the fuck up.
So right now, I have to either ignore it or verbally respond to it, but I have to do something. Ignoring it frequently invites louder calls and possibly threats. So I have to respond to it, but I don’t wanna. I didn’t ask for this interaction, but I’m forced into it.
Having written before about street harassment and having had a threatening encounter with someone after confronting his harassment, I wasn’t so quick to jump off onto the defensive, though I love getting on my feminist high horse. So I chose the second option, to tell him it was none of his business. But I called it “his beeswax,” and I said it with a smile to “soften” it. He said something else, and I said, “Well, how far along are YOU?” He laughed at that and was gone. It was over.
I know this isn’t that big of a deal in the big grand scheme of life, but it’s easy to become inured to things like this, and I think it’s important not to just blow it off like nothing.