It was 65 degrees in Syracuse today. It was a perfect spring day with clear blue skies, almost no humidity, and barely a breeze. The perfect weather for a run.

I decided my move would be to wear a light long sleeve shirt and shorts. I prefer running in shorts to leggings whenever I can, and also my pastey winter legs could use a little sunshine. 

As soon as a pulled on the new pair of black bike shorts, I knew what I was signing up for. But I put them on anyways and laced up my sneakers. “Because,” I said to myself, “I should be able to wear whatever I want.”

As soon as I stepped out of our apartment building I saw two men sitting on the park benches smoking. I pulled out my phone, turned on my headphones, and did my best to ignore them. 

But I knew exactly what was about to happen.

“Hey, girl. You goin’ for a little jog?”

If you are woman, you know exactly the tone of voice this guy used. Like he really didn’t care at all about my workout. 

I did not look up. I said nothing. I rolled my eyes, I turned the corner, I started running, and I prayed that they would not be there when I got back.

If you are a woman, I don’t need to tell you that this happens all the time. Like most women, I am uninvitingly approached or sexually harassed by men on a regular basis.  

Last fall I was hiking in the Adirondacks with two friends. My friend Tayler and I were lacing up our hiking boots in the parking lot while her boyfriend used the bathroom. We were both bundled up in leggings, fleeces, and vests.

A guy and two women were walking towards the trailhead. I wasn’t paying much attention, until I heard the guy say as he walked by, “Damn, lots of hotties hitting the trails today.” The two women he was with laughed uncomfortably but said nothing.

I stopped what I was doing and turned around. “Really?” I said. Tayler’s boyfriend also happened to be walking back to the car at that moment and was just about ready to deck the guy before we convinced him it wasn’t worth it. 

Just a few months ago I walked to the bakery a few blocks from our apartment to get some cookies. It was a week day, probably about 2 in the afternoon. It was drizzling a little so I was wearing a long rain coat over a pair of jeans. 

I was 2 blocks from our apartment when I saw two guys walking towards me. I thought about crossing to the opposite side of the street but then decided I was overacting. 

I had just passed the guys when I heard them stop and turn to follow me. 

“Hey cutie, you got a boyfriend?” 

I mumbled, “yes”, hoping this would deter him, and picked up the pace. It did not. 

“I bet he doesn’t treat you like I could.” 

I walked even faster, noticing that the light at the intersection up ahead was about to change and I would be forced to stop walking. I pulled out my phone and called my friend Jordyn, who I had just been talking to and said very loudly, “Hi, I’m being harassed by some guy on the street. Will you please stay on the phone with me?”

At this point, a man on the other side of the street looked over and noticed something was not right. Apparently, the guy following me also saw that, because he quickly took off in another direction. 

These are the things I think about when I walk out the door by myself. I think about them when I pick out what I’m going to wear on a run, to walk the dog, or go anywhere else.

I know my experiences are not unique.

I also know that as a white woman, they’re pretty mild compared to what some other people deal with. After all that has gone on in the last week, and months, I can’t even imagine the kind of emotional armor the Asian and BIPOC community has to put on every time they walk out the door. 

I was reading something the other day that said one of the things men can do to help women feel safer is cross to the opposite side of the street if they see a woman walking alone. 

“That seems excessive,” I thought at first. 

But you know what? Having to think about what sort situation I’m setting myself up for by wearing a pair of running shorts is also excessive. I feel fairly certain if I was a male walking out of my building this afternoon in a pair of shorts, no one would have said a word to me.

So, yea. I would feel better if you were on the other side of the street. 

And for those who still don’t seem to get it, because there seems to be a lot of you. Unless I invite you to comment on my appearance, my plans, my relationship, or anything else, do not.  

My shorts are not an invitation.

My leggings are not an invitation.

My dog is not an invitation.

The fact that I am alone is not an invitation. 

My gender is not an invitation.

My race is not an invitation.

Do you want to know why women are “so angry”? 

Because we are tired. And we are scared. And we are sick of being treated like everyone else has a right to our bodies except us.