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.