Short skirt, fishnets, platform boots: I’m on my way to the subway station. My ears are plugged with Madonna, to block out the cat calls and whistling from strange men on the street. A construction worker is convinced that my bright eyeshadow and red hair are some sort of an invitation, and is deeply offended when his advances are ignored. He yells insults my way. I keep walking.As I get on the train, I ask myself: when was the last time I threw lustful looks, winked, or yelled “HEY SEXY!!!” at an attractive male? The 32nd of Neverwary? It’s not because I’m a woman and not allowed such things; it’s simply because it would be uncivilized. I live in America, a country that’s often laughed at for being sexually repressed. From what I hear, things are even worse in Europe and Japan: Parisian men run amok, grabbing butt cheeks and boobs left and right; in Japan, segregated subway cars are used to prevent perverts from groping women during the rush hour (sometimes I wish we had that, too). It seems, no matter how liberated or repressed sexually, men all over the planet can’t seem to stop acting like wild gorillas.
