city livin' sexual harassment

Quick re-cap:

1. MTA gets set to launch an anti-sexual harassment subway campaign
2. Woman writes an op-ed piece regarding the upcoming ads
3. Douchebag, while entitled to his opinion, informs the woman of it in this delightfully offensive, sexist stupid ass letter:

Dear Courtney,

I read your opinions about the MTA raising awareness about sexual misconduct on the subways and found it very naive and written from a very white-middle-class-women-studies-privaleged perspective. You are correct that women have been dealing with this kind of stuff from guys for years, but what about how women dress in the subways? Today (after reading your opinion) while on the subway, I saw a woman sit near me with a very low cut shirt and very large tits...she looked hot! I totally stared at her tits any chance I could get...which is probably why she wore the shirt right? I also see scores of women with those cotton summer dresses on and just a thong underneath, so you see their asses bobbling around under the skirt. That sounds like blaming the victim right? Well when you leave almost nothing to the imagination, it doesn't take much for it to run wild. This is not to say you whip your cock out at any moment or press your boner on any tart that wears a hot outfit, but where they "asking for it"? I know you are probably fuming by now, but from the looks of your picture you probably don't get sexually harrassed much, so maybe you are jealous of all of the hot-ass bitches with the big titties, shaved snatches and round asses that get some action underground.

hells to the motherfuckin' yeah!!!!

ChanceNoble (snhca@exit3.com)
Typos and misspellings, of course, are his.

I was initially going to email this asshat but I decided he really isn't worth the personal attention and instead, I'll just respond in my own little piece of the internet.

A. Not all women get dressed in the morning thinking, “okay, what will draw the most attention from the most men?” You know why some women wear low cut shirts? Because they like how their tits look in them. Because they like the style. Because they like the color. Because they like the fit. Because it’s hot and they don’t want to wear a turtleneck in the middle of August. Because it makes them feel good. It’s hard enough having bodaciously bigger tatas because they’re just plain gonna be stared at, no matter what’s covering them. But to be made to feel like they have to be covered so as not to allow some stranger to assume their size automatically means their owner is a huge, always willing slut is ridiculous.

B. I don’t understand thongs, I don’t. I think they’re uncomfortable and I’m guessing they’re fairly problematic for women prone to unpleasant girlie infections. But that’s just me. I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass what women wear as underwear or if they wear underwear at all, for that matter. But a thong and a summer dress isn’t “leaving almost nothing to the imagination,” it’s “wearing what one is comfortable in.” This drives me batty because really, either way….we’re fucked. If we wear the thongs with a summer dress, we’re big, skanky whores. If we wear granny panties with the summer dress, we’re probably uptight prudes who like only the missionary position. Should we really not be allowed to make our own decisions when it comes to covering our asses?

C. And my personal favorite…”from the looks of your picture you probably don’t get sexually harassed much.” Sexual harassment isn’t a compliment. It isn’t a nice way for a guy to say, “hey, I find you visually appealing and I’d like to get to know you better.” It’s a way to objectify women, break them down into body parts, publicly humiliate them, and reinforce the misconception that we exist solely for men’s enjoyment. Not too long ago, I stayed after work and had a few drinks for a co-worker’s birthday, accidentally forgot there was a Cubs game that night and took the bus home that goes right by Wrigley Field. Thanks to several beers, I was about to pee my freaking pants and decided to get off the bus right at Wrigley Field, run into the McDonald’s across the street, and then hop back on the bus. So after I peed, I walked to the corner, waited for the bus, and proceeded to people watch the yuppie tools in the bar across from me. A few minutes later, a group of guys walked by; 2 of whom were probably about my age and 3 who were maybe in their late 30s, early 40s. They walked directly in front of me to a limo that was waiting for them and one made me the oh so polite offer of, “hey baby, how about you come with us instead of the bus (accompanied by grabbing what I can only assume was his tiny, little, insecure, 5-minute lasting cock)? I’ll be a better ride, I promise!” And you know what? I’m not 5’9”, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a size 6 figure. I’m 5’5” with brown hair and a size 16 figure. I’m by no means hideous but I’m not attractive according to society-accepted and supported standards. And get your surprise face out…I was still physically “assaulted” before I was really old enough to fully comprehend it (I use quotes simply because I’ve never really put a definition on it that I’m comfortable with). And I remember exactly where I was, what I was doing, and even what I was wearing. And it wasn’t a thong, a push-up bra, and fishnets. It was jeans and a long sleeve shirt that in no way accentuated the girlie gifts that are my tits. Neither sexual harassment nor sexual assault is set aside for perfectly pretty girls. It’s set aside for every girl who someone wants to make feel…less than.

D. Contrary to what society and the media tends to throw in our faces the majority of the time, not all of us feel the need to have huge tits and naughty bits that look like they belong to a pre-pubescent girl. Life is not a porn set and not all of us walk out into the world everyday lookin’ to “get some underground action.” Because, ya know, that would equate to our wanting full-on consensual underground sex. For those who’d like to fuck in a dark corner of the subway, have right the hell at it. I hope it’s phenomenal for both (or all) of those involved. But groping and / or rubbing up against and / or strokin’ one off on your way to work in the morning and / or telling us you’d like to tap that or hit that or whatever other phrase equates to “hows about we fuck?”…that’s not full-on consensual sex. It’s sexual harassment. Most of us prefer iPods or books while going about our day on public transportation. We’re on our way to work or the park or the store or wherever we may be headed, just like you are. Those harsh fluorescent lights aren’t going to turn into flattering spotlights, you’re not gonna hear the “bow chica bow bow” music start up over the speakers, and the F train or the 6 or the Red Line isn’t going to suddenly morph into the set of Subway Sluts #23. The day is going to proceed just as it was. And mothers and sisters and aunts and friends and lovers are going to continue to go about their business, expecting nothing less than the respect and courtesy given to the fathers and brothers and uncles and friends and lovers sitting next to them.