Turning the Tables

I could taste the sunscreen I had dedicatedly smeared on my face that morning as the sweat streamed down from my forehead.

“Keep going, keep going, keep going,” was the only mantra I had as I pushed myself to run a little faster, my younger sister right on my heels. Finally, the stitch in my side forced me to slow down, and so, panting slightly, I ended my sprint, and turned it into a brisk walk. Courtney did the same, and we began to converse again as we passed by a tree and the road came into view.

I see plenty of cars go by all the time on my runs, and so I didn’t think anything of it when one car came around the bend. But apparently, girls walking in their own backyard is something these boys didn’t see every day. The car slowed down, which is odd because the speed limit is 55, and there’s not another main turn for another mile or so. I stopped walking and so did Courtney when the boys rolled all the windows down. Almost at a full stop now, the driver shouted out the window at us.

“Guess what season it is?”

The rest of the boys were egging him on, howling, as he didn’t even bother to wait for a reply and said, “Ass eating season!”

I hoped to put an end to the raucous laughter with a single finger in the air, but they paid it no mind and peeled out, voices still echoing around us. I can only assume that the fact that I was wearing leggings on that brisk spring day was the reason a car full of jerks decided to inform me that I was mistaken about the season we were in.

Sadly, this is not the first time something like this has happened. I have had guys blatantly take pictures of me as I walk. I have had my ass groped in public like it was nothing—like the fact that I was wearing skinny jeans was an invitation to have my ass smacked, grabbed, etc. by strangers. I listened to two boys talk about my ass and how they wanted to invite me to a party so they could “tap that” behind me as I walked to my dorm; and then he had the balls to ask me for my snapchat two seconds later. And the crazy part is, for the longest time, I didn’t know how to respond to these things. I’m not a confrontational person, and when things like this happen, I usually pretend that they didn’t, and walk away without saying so much as a word.

I don’t know when but one day I decided that if I ever saw a group of male runners, I would give them a taste of their own medicine. Of course, I didn’t really expect to ever run into such a group so I was just coming up with scenarios in my head about how I would be super vulgar and say something like, “Wow, those gym shorts make your dick look HUGE!” and then they would all feel mildly uncomfortable and I would laugh evilly before speeding away in my brand new Volvo (this was a fantasy after all so yes I gave myself a sweet new car).

Imagine my surprise when one day, as I was driving home from school, I came across at least ten college guys running shirtless on the side of the road. My windows were already down and I was going slow for the upcoming curve in the road, but my heart was in my throat and my palms were sweaty as I gripped the wheel. Would I actually enact my plan or would I be silent yet again?

Before I consciously had the choice, I found my hand sliding to the middle of the steering wheel, and suddenly I was blaring the horn. They all turned to look at me as I rolled slowly beside them. It was too late to stop now. Unfortunately, all my planned backhanded, vulgar comments went out the window, literally, and instead, heat rushing to my face, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “Hey! You’re all cute!” and then I peeled away in my slightly dinged up Ford Focus.

This was not exactly how I pictured my epic comeback playing out; I was much nicer than they had ever been to me, but it is the beginning of a change in mindset. I don’t need to silently accept being sexualized. I have the right and the responsibility to stand up for myself, because if I don’t stand up for myself then who else will?