And while the others slept and slept,
in front of her mirror she wept and wept.
A sudden spark, a wondrous idea!
She’ll carve away, away from her peers.
So on she stood, careful not to fall,
to the little box where she hid it all.
Through search and search, low and high,
she found what she needed: a little sharp guy.
A puncture here, a puncture there,
to the skin of her breast which remained bare.
After much study, care, and design,
she looked at the mirror and let out a sigh.
This wasn’t appropriate -no- it was wrong.
But nothing could help her…
…no poem, no song.
A catcall is entirely about reminding you that you are not yours. The purity myth is entirely about reminding you that you are not yours. The fetishization of female purity in a world where catcalls are an acceptable form of communication telegraphs one thing very clearly:
“Women, stop sexualizing yourselves—that’s our job, and you’re taking all the fun out of it.”
The sexualization of women is only appealing if it’s nonconsensual. Otherwise it’s “sluttiness,” and sluttiness is agency and agency is threatening."
“Female ‘Purity’ is Bullshit”, by Lindy West