I crossed the street in search of my campus' Panda Express
and a car rightfully yeilded.
As I passed, the car drove closer and slowed
and a young man, though older than myself, poked his head from the back window.
The man yelled, "Hey, can I have your number?"
Quickly, strongfully, I yelled "NO" and continued.
The boy laughed and the car drove away.
Throughout the entire walk my heart pounded and I mouthed the word "no" a million times.
What a great answer.
Then it hit me:
It was all a joke and they were laughing at my seriousness.
Why would any stranger want to contact me?
What are they saying about me now?
Who will they tell and wil I ever see them again?
So, to this I conclude that the worst part of cat-calling is not the degredation of the Feminist.
The worst of it is actually inside the mind of the self-concious and the self-hated.
That's where all of the world's horrors reside.