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I was walking to work yesterday from the 9 bus stop (@ 24th and Broadway), and I could see these two young guys ahead - laughing and yelling at a 77 to Montgomery Park stop, that I knew I had to walk past.

Internal monologue was as follows: Oh God, Iapos;m going to be catcalled. Cross the street, Hayley. God, it would be so out of my way though, and Iapos;ve been walking and crossing streets all day. Why should paranoia force me to do everything the hard way? Why do I even assume that these men are going to give me a hard time? Thatapos;s just your racial prejudice, Hayley. Just keep walking.

Yeah... So for about half a block I was stared at - unambiguously - and as soon as they were a few paces behind me, I hear this, "Damn... Youapos;ve got no booty, baby. No booty"

I canapos;t tell you how much I wanted to turn around and just be like... "How could you possibly think that itapos;s socially acceptable for you to speak to me that way? My body is not public property to be commented on by fuckers like you." Of course, I didnapos;t feel like being gang raped, so I kept walking. But aaaaahhhhh Just assholes mouthing off... Then why does it have the power to make me feel so victimized? Being scrutinized... Assessed like that... I canapos;t even walk down a damn busy street in broad daylight. It makes me so angry that my day had to be that much worse.

And what do you mean, "no booty"?

I guess it means no steatopygia. It means Iapos;m not black. How dare I, a fair-haired, caucasian girl with my northern European ass, walk by HIS bus stop in NE Portland. How dare I exist.

I also think itapos;s quite ridiculous that someone who wears his pants around his knees thinks he has the right make fun of anyone. Whatever.
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