We are all shaped by our early experiences – both within our families and in the larger world. I was recently reminded of this in a conversation with some friends. The subject of catcalling came up and I realized something about myself.
Growing up, the kids in my neighborhood and I ran pretty free. There’s a sense of safety in small towns, in knowing everyone you meet is related to a friend or neighbor or a schoolmate. It brings with it a sense of community accountability, where because everyone is known it feels like everyone is safe. As many of you already know, that’s not necessarily true. Most victims know their attacker. But it’s relevant to this story.
I can remember being catcalled regularly, from as young as 8 years old. That sense of safety from knowing everyone is connected in my memories to the experience of being catcalled. I knew the men who catcalled me. They were brothers/cousins/dads of friends from school. They were seasonal farmers on local farms. They were men who, even if I didn’t know where I knew them from, were familiar and therefore felt safe.
As I got older and began to explore more of the world, catcalling continued to feel safe and familiar. In Italy, I simply smiled and walked on when men called out lewd comments I could sort of understand. When I lived in France, my friends quickly taught me how to say, “Va te faire foutre.” My gentle smile and dismissal wasn’t safe in France, and they made sure pretty quick that I adjusted my response accordingly. As I think about it now, it’s led many friends from other cultures to step into an older sibling/protective role. Because the truth is, I generally feel safe around inappropriate men.
Part of that comes from feeling very able to call someone out on their behavior and knowing I have the right and abilities to keep myself safe. When I was ten years old, I reported a friend’s sexual abuse to the police. When I was sixteen, I read a teacher the riot act when I learned about his misogynistic comments directed at a friend. I have, and will always be, a strong advocate against inequity and violence. And feeling safe in the world allows me the courage to speak up when these things happen.
It also comes from having been around a lot of inappropriate men. I remember waiting tables and serving coffee to a classmate’s dad, knowing their family history of sexual abuse. He’d flirt with me and I’d fill his coffee cup to the brim with scalding coffee so he would burn himself with his first sip. He thought I was being cute, every time. I also remember numerous occasions where older men would make inappropriate jokes or innuendoes in my presence. Being able to volley back at them, calling them out on it through humor, made me a hit. It was my self defense mechanism, allowing me to say something that let them know I wasn’t an easy target, without escalating the situation.
As I grew up, I was frequently asked to deal with the difficult uncle at weddings, gently deter the creepy dude at parties, etc. It’s never placed me in a situation that became unsafe. It’s probably placed in some situations that could have, but I’ve been lucky. And I’ve had my share of experiences with sexual harassment and assault, just not because I’m comfortable around inappropriate men.
I don’t regret feeling safe in the world. It’s a gift. It allows me to step into new spaces with a trust that allows me to be more present and open. But I was unaware of how inured I’d become to comments that objectify women in a pretty dehumanizing way. And that definitely makes me stop and think.
We all have blind spots. I knew I was comfortable with inappropriate men. I see it as a strength, although I do sometimes get tired of being asked to utilize this particular skill to increase the comfort of others. What I didn’t realize was how it had numbed me to the experience of being objectified.
How many times have I not stood up for myself because of this numbness?
How many times have I said something, or dismissed something, that hurt someone else because I didn’t realize this blind spot?
How has it impacted difficult conversations with people I love because I didn’t realize my own “no” until it had been violated and I was hurt?
We all have blind spots. And they tend to show up in our most intimate relationships. Doesn’t everything? If you and your partner have a difficult conversation that seems to keep circling around again and again, perhaps one or more blind spots are at play.