Swimsuit Issue – Sonic Youth

I’m just here for dictation – I don’t wanna be a sensation
bein’ on Sixty Minutes – was it worth your fifteen minutes?

don’t touch my breast – I’m just working at my desk
don’t put me to the test – I’m just doing my best

shopping at MaxFields – power for you to wield
dreams of going to the Grammies – `till you poked me with your whammy

you spined the disc – now you’re moving your wrist
I’m just from Encino – why are you so meano

I’m just here for dictation – and not your summer vacation
you really like to shmooze – well now you’re on the news

I’m from Sherman Oaks – just a wheel with spokes
but I ain’t giving you headace – in a Sunset bungalow

Roshumba, Judith, Paulina, Cathy, Vendella, Naomi,
Ashley, Angie, Stacey, Gail
ice women
ice women
ice women

‘Sexual harassment’. The phrase conjures up images of a dreary 1970s office block with  lascivious boss in a bri nylon suit, Benny Hill sketches and seems a distinctly old school feminist complaint. However as a young twenty-something woman who is supposed to be reaping the benefits of equal opportunities and anti discrimination laws I am still surprised at how regularly I can be made to feel uncomfortable by a lecherous comment or wandering hand. However what angers me more is the creeping acceptance of it all. If you object you are ‘frigid’ or ‘uptight’ and it’s just a ‘compliment’ , moreover many women seem to begrudgingly accept it as something that isn’t pleasant but ‘just happens’. Over the past few months, even years, I have begun to think, why should we accept this?
One particularly acute incident stands out, during the four weeks or so of summer we had me and my friend decided on a picnic in a local park. We were repeatedly harassed by a man who turned nasty, calling us ‘bastard bitches’ when we declined his advances. All this happened in bright sunlight while we were enjoying a picnic in a safe local park where schoolchildren, dog walkers and joggers ran past. I’ve complained to various male friends about incidents like this, the time I felt a hand grab my behind whilst walking down the street and turned round to be winked at by a young man, the numerous times I have had to psychically push men away from me in clubs. It doesn’t happen a lot they insist, it’s not really a problem, I’m just being an ‘awkward feminist’. Whilst there may not be a vast pandemic of lechery, it happens enough to make me uncomfortable and the majority of women I know have had similar experiences. It is the creeping acceptance that angers me most. The insistence that it’s ‘just a bit of fun’ or my favourite ‘it’s a compliment’, guaranteed to have me foaming at the mouth in tooth grinding fury. The fact is most women when they are out on the town have had to ‘rescue’ a friend from an unwanted ‘admirer’ who just won’t take no for an answer, we’ve had to endure lewd comments pointing out the bloody obvious (mostly reminding us that we posses breasts) as we go about our daily lives whether we are dressed up to the nines for a night out or relaxing in jeans and a t shirt.  The thing that sends me into unparalleled fits of rage however is the attitude of some men that we should be grateful for these insults. I don’t know any women who see being harassed as a compliment. The phrase ‘harassment’ seems to have gone out of fashion, people don’t use it. Perhaps it is seen as too severe. I see being told my breasts are wobbling or having my arse grabbed by a stranger as harassment. I makes me feel uncomfortable, sometimes unsafe and it’s unneeded.
Just today I was informed by a group of men sitting at the end of my street that I ‘was wobbling quite a bit’ and had to endure a chorus of wolf whistles as I trudged off to t the local supermarket in jeans and a t-shirt.
I don’t care how people try to justify it; This IS harassment and this is NOT acceptable.