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Jul 2016
On a scale of 1-10, 1 being the lowest and 10 being the highest:
1. How cute did my **** look as I walked home from school?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
2. How old must a girl be before you catcall her?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
3. How many miles is a girl allowed to travel from her home before she is a target?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
4. In this deadly hot summer, how many layers must a girl wear to protect herself from your cries?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
5. How many times has this method of courtship ever been effective?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
6. How many boys does a girl need in order to protect her from you?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
7. How many times has someone catcalled your mother, your sister, your daughter?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
8. If unable to answer Question 7, how many times have they come home crying, holding their clothes tight to shield themselves?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
9. How many letters are in my name?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I'm sorry. That last question was unfair.
You would never know my name because,
despite all the curses and jeering,
you never once asked for it.

My name is @@@@@@.
I am not your "baby."
I am not your "**."
I am not your "****."
I am me, and I belong to no one.

10. How likely are you to allow me to not be anything else?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
*Please note that this poem is not an attack on the entire male gender, or even sexually mature adult males.
This is a poem in defense against the many men and boys who casually fling ****** assaults out their car windows. This is a poem created to make us think about how common this problem of casual objectification is, and how far we have really come as a developed society if it still exists. If this poem seems like a whine about my insecurities, note who this poem is addressed to. This is for them, not for me. To these men, I am nothing more than a target, a source for cheap laughs. No matter how confident I can be, how safe I feel in my own skin, I cannot change their very different impression of me in the instant they drive past.
I want to challenge their perception where I can, and I want this poem to reflect the process back at them while using the very common rating system that people use to judge shallow physical beauty.
Amelia of Ames
Written by
Amelia of Ames  Land of Dreams
(Land of Dreams)   
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