The "infamous" skirt

This is not going to be lyrical.
This is not going to be poetic.

This IS going to be blunt.

And to be honest I don't care if you disagree or don't like what I have to say.
Because someone has to say something.


To the gentleman in the hallway,
I wear skirts, almost everyday. I wear them because I like the way they make me feel. I do not on any grounds wear them for attention. I absolutely do not wear them for anyone's pleasure but my own. I do not wear them so your eyes can travel up and down my body. I do not wear them so you can leer at me and tell me "Hey I like your skirt" followed by the noticeably softer comment of "and your legs." My dear gentleman, you may think this is okay. My dear reader, you may also think this okay. I mean, he's complimenting me right? Just trying to be nice to a girl passing in the hallway. Our culture will have you believe that this behavior is absolutely, on all levels, alright and okay and everybody is just dandy. But let me let you in on a secret, THIS IS ON NO GROUNDS OKAY. I am a human being. I have dreams, wants, wishes, thoughts, and desires (one being that comments like his go left unsaid). I am NOT an object. Don't you dare objectify me. Don't you dare look at my body and project your desires onto me. You have no right to make me feel embarrassed and uncomfortable in my own skin. I should not have to sit in front of my mirror adjusting my skirt wondering if I should maybe change into some jeans. That skirt (one of my favorites) should not sit untouched in the back of my closet for several days because I don't want to attract any unwanted attention. I should not have heard the words "well maybe if you wore something less revealing you wouldn't hear anything." The problem is not the length of my skirt but the respect I'm being given. Next time you choose to compliment me, or any girl, leave the compliment at "Hey I like your skirt" and leave the rest unsaid.

To the gentlemen in the car, 

You know what? I'm pissed. Sure, I'm used to the occasional once over and the occasional comment (I'm all too aware of how nice the male population considers my legs). These looks and comments are usually met with a sugary sweet smile and a slight shake of my head. But all of you, each and every one of you sitting in that car, have managed to piss me off. Let me tell you, it is extremely hard to piss me off. I shake things off and let them go. I condescendingly smile at the boy who grins at me and then degrades me in the next moment. I pity him for his lack of control and respect. But you have not earned any pity but anger. I cannot even express how angry I am. Swinging open my car door I tossed my bag into the backseat. I flipped around to the shouted "hey" in my direction. Their car was at a standstill and I was leaning against my car door. "Hey!" I shouted back. I didn't mean to unknowingly encourage them, I was just happy. "I really like your skirt," said one. Reading nothing into it I smiled "thank you." I dismissed it as a simple compliment and started opening the drivers door. As soon as I turned my back I heard another one call out "I would like your skirt and you better in my bed." It took several seconds for the comment to sink in. I turned sharply just in time to watch them laugh and drive off. I slammed my door in frustration and gave a little huff. My thoughts raced. My teeth ground. I couldn't believe their nerve. I was insulted, humiliated, angry, and disgusted. I wanted to hide in my room and never come out. You may think I'm overreacting but you obviously don't know what it feels like to be totally objectified and laughed at. The image of him touching me, the thought of me ever entering his room let alone his bed, would not leave my mind. I felt totally unsafe in my own skin. My thoughts themselves were unsafe for me to reside in. If he felt comfortable enough to say that in front of so many people let's imagine what he would be comfortable doing if our altercation happened to be on a dark night in a secluded place? That is rape culture. That is the culture we live in. My own thoughts, the world I live in is unsafe. Isn't that terrifying?

To everyone else,
Don't tell me I'm overreacting. Don't tell me I should be flattered. Don't tell me boys will be boys.

Because I'm not.

Let's teach boys to be boys in a way that doesn't objectify my body.

The way I dress and the way I act is my choice, don't let them take it away from me. Don't let them blame their choice on mine.

Infamously,
The Girl With The Skirt