I hardly even know where to begin. It’s easy enough to talk about the “stuff” going on in my life — getting our kitten next week (reader poll: Should We Name Our Cat?: a) Gilda b) Greta c) Simone), moving to Oakland at the end of July, starting my summer practicum in a few weeks, seriously considering staying for a PhD but also looking seriously at other PhD programs elsewhere, my part-time library job, which I actually love, family goings-on, the stuff I’ve been reading and obsessing about… and I’m sure I’ll write about more of that stuff here in the coming weeks. It’s summer, after all, and I’m not in class. I’m not intending to let this place die.
But today I want to write, again, about my hair. I wrote about it here already, last fall, when I was starting the project of growing it out. Now it’s nine months later and I’ve got a just-below-chin-length bob and just-above-brow-level bangs. I get my hair colored, too; it’s a sort of auburn with golden streaks right now. It’s funny, when I had quite short hair I never felt unfeminine and as I started identifying more as femme in the past four years or so I always was adamant that I wasn’t femme despite the short hair but rather that the hair was an integral part of my femininity. And certainly this in no way reflects on short-haired femmes in general, but for me — wow, I had no idea how much having longer hair would affect my sense of myself.
I feel so much stronger, so much fiercer, so much more solid in my body. I feel so much more myself, sexier, more flippant. It’s hard to know, actually, how much of that is related to just the hair and how much is related to other things (like this education, my graduate program, which is hardening me and breaking me all at once), but I have felt it as being integrally related to my hair. I don’t feel more feminine, per se, but I feel do feel more femme — like the way I want femme to feel for me. This sounds funny, but I feel more visible — not more visibly queer (in fact I think it’s the opposite), but more apparent to the world. And that doesn’t mean that I’m more apparent to other people but that I’m more apparent to myself. I’m showing up differently, somehow.
Though there is the thing about being more apparent to other people and that’s what I really wanted to write about. The longer my hair has gotten the more I’ve been a target of street harassment. Again, this is not a generalization of women-with-long-hair-get-more-street-harassment, not at all, but that has been my experience, and as I’ve felt more powerful in how I show up and walk around in my body, as I have felt sexier, I have also been getting a lot more desperately unwanted attention. And I don’t know what to do about this because I hate it, that isn’t strong enough, I don’t just hate it I loathe it, it makes me shake with rage.
I don’t quite know how to manage it. When ML and I were talking about moving to Oakland, one of the things she brought up was safety — is that neighborhood safer than, equivalent to, or not as safe as the Mission? And to be honest I can’t take those questions seriously because I never feel safe, ever. Ever. I’m always on my guard, no matter where I am, no matter who’s around. I’ve learned first hand, multiple times, that safety, for women, is an illusion and I feel like debating the nature of the safety of neighborhoods is the privilege of people who do feel safe in places. That probably sounds crass, and intellectually I know it probably is, but what I’m not saying is that we should throw ourselves in the path of danger or, through ignorance, subject ourselves to more of it. (Though even that sentence is victim-blaming, do you see it?) So I try to engage those issues seriously and with care but I end up generally getting really impatient and feeling like it’s all a farse, because honestly whether one neighborhood “seems” safer than another feels so arbitrary and so fictive. Also, racist. But at the same time, I don’t want to be flippant.
And still every week I get yelled at, whistled at, followed, groped, cat-called, in every neighborhood and no matter where I am. I feel less safe with the longer hair, feel somehow more vulnerable as I also feel stronger. Perhaps it’s that as I’ve felt more like me, I’ve felt less like I’m hiding — in short hair and in my body in general — and as I’m hiding less I feel more vulnerable. I don’t know, maybe that’s not it, maybe I’m entirely off base. But I need to figure out a way to respond, for my own sanity… And my hair grows longer.
I also just have to say that there is an adorable, tiny kitten playing on my lap trying to get my attention right now. So I’m going to go dote on her :)
I relate to this post so much. In fact, just this weekend I was walking, in daylight, to meet up with some friends. I was walking alone. One man followed me, yelling for a couple blocks. Men on a porch yelled and tried to get me to come over. I noticed a lot full of large shipping trucks and no people and thought about how easy it would be for someone to pull me into one and attack me and no one would even notice.
And I’m not a generally paranoid person. At all. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. But that day, I felt so unsafe in my own neighborhood. A neighborhood that is pretty good, all things considered. During the day. I began to wish I’d worn a less low-cut top or longer shorts. And then I got angry at myself for even thinking that the yells and harassment was my fault or related to my outfit. I hated that I was victim-blaming myself for my adorable outfit that I’d felt amazing in minutes before, before I left the house.
I had meant to write a post about it, and will probably use this comment as a jumping off point and link back here, because it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one that feels this way.
Yes, totally – especially the victim-blaming we catch ourselves in… :(
+1 Greta
I’ve never really seen a woman get street harassed. It boggles me that people do that…
I recommend self-defense/martial arts lessons. It’s fun, it’s empowering and you meet cool people. Band-aid: MP3 player?
Sadly, you are not alone with street harassment. I just searched online and found:
http://www.stopstreetharassment.org/2011/06/street-harassment-film-nominated-for-best-documentary/
Power to one’s hair! So much so that I can’t wait to rewatch the play Da Kink in my Hair this August.
Take care and here’s a mouse and a fish for Greta, I mean the kitteh:
I think Greta was my favorite, but ML had a friend named Greta and couldn’t agree to it ultimately! So, Gilda it is, and now that she’s been here a week and change, I can’t imagine it any differently.
I do listen to music occasionally on my walks about town but in general I actually like the sounds of the world and prefer that to earbuds. I may just take self-defense classes one of these days, despite my general annoyance with them as a way to “prevent” rape. (Teeters dangerously close to rendering women responsible for our *own* safety without demanding that men actually um, treat us with respect.) Still, to refuse to take self-defense out of that reactive position would be silly.
Gosh. Thanks- this is such a familiar experience for me to read about- for lots of us to read about, based on the others commenting.
I have very similar feelings about safety and safe neighborhoods- as a person endangered and oppressed by sexism, I also really don’t feel as if I’m ever safe. No matter the neighborhood, the companion, the right combination of mace, brandished car keys, and self defense classes- I can’t ultimately prevent someone from attempting to harm me. My reaction to this downer of a reality has been to really, really focus on my self care: When I am in the mood to wear red lipstick and the mini-est skirt, i get all gussied up- because it makes me feel good. Similarly, when I throw on jeans and hop on my bike, I do it because I love biking. When I get catcalled, I bring myself back to these things- the things I like about my body, how I’m presenting it, and what I’m doing with it. This helps me because it challenges the catcallers assumption that their reaction to me is welcome, by recentering on my definition of me.
Another favorite tactic- I have a high, feminine voice. And when people realllllly bug me (like the person who slowed down to make kissy faces out a car window at me) I like to shout things like “suck my dick”. The confusion- totes fun for me. “Stop harrassing women” is another good one. Are these “safe” or perfect solutions? Uh uh.
And since these things (self care and feisty retorts) aren’t ending catcalls, I’m also a big believer in related, proactive work. In terms of organized efforts, the Stop Street Harassment campaign is bomb. In everyday life, I make a point of talking to anyone who hits on me while I’m riding the bus about the latest feminist action I attended or article I read. And I encourage my friends (especially male identified friends) not to hesitate to interrupt sexism themselves.
Queer femmes make the world safer by being it. You’ve got this shit ;)
Awesome. All of this. Every word <3
street harassment is one of my major pet peeves and it’s maddening that it goes on everywhere everyday. i usually carry mace now to feel a little more secure and like to walk with high heels that can be turned into weapons. what’s surprising is, i’ve found i’m more of a target when my hair is SHORT. this one guy followed me this weekend and said, “do you know why i love women with short hair? because it’s easy to get to their necks.” blech.
That’s so interesting – yeah I do wonder whether the increased harassment is because I’m carrying myself differently now that I feel stronger and more me, rather than that my hair is actually longer.
“so easy to get to their necks” ugh!!!
I’m sorry–did you say as safe as the Misson? Maybe the Mission District has changed in the 14 years since I lived in SF, but back then it was not what I would define as a “safe” neighborhood
I’m sorry that you have to put up with that bullshit. The wonderful thing about gaining 100lb was the dramatic reduction in street harassment–but even before that I used to dress in layers to make myself look less attractive. Neither seems like a good solution-esp. the gaining weight one.
Identifying as a queer femme has definitely given me a feeling of freedom and security to express myself through feminine dress that I never had before–I realize now that a lot of my clothing choices before were more about rebuffing attantion than attracting it.
Maybe if long hair makes you feel vulnerable you could wear a hat? Although I’m sure you’d be super-cute in a hat, too! Good luck!
As far as cat names go, which one matches the cat’s personality?
I think the Mission has changed in the past 14 years, but I also wouldn’t exactly characterize it as “safe.” That’s part of why I feel so silly about the debate between here and Oakland — I really think the feeling of “safety” here is largely a feeling of familiarity and belonging.
“I realize now that a lot of my clothing choices before were more about rebuffing attantion than attracting it.” <– YUP. Me too. And now that I wear what I want most of the time rather than what will adequately hide me, I do feel like more of a target but I also feel stronger.
I have the opposite problem– I grew up right on the edge of a medium-sized town in rural Wisconsin. No one ever came down our street besides our neighbors and delivery trucks. There were woods and cornfields closer to our house than streets with actual sidewalks. I don’t have that sense of being in an unsafe area at all. And it’s only recently that I’ve realized this isn’t normal. The even smaller town where I go to college is also bewilderingly safe. I’ve never been harrassed, not even late on Saturday night outside a bar, although I know that some people have had racist slurs yelled at them. I only know this because it was in the school newspaper. I really don’t know what to think of the situation. Hell, even *in* the bars, nobody ever talked to me except people I knew. Nobody groped me. I’ve never not felt safe– at midnight out by the river with two other people and no streetlights, at 5pm alone on main street with a violin in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other, at noon with another woman, walking back from a performance in formal clothes and extremely impractical high heels. …I guess my girlfriend is right to be worried about me living with her in a big city.
That’s amazing. I think you’ll be ok in the city, though, as long as you have your wits about you. I just hope you don’t get too bitter :(
I relate very strongly to both your feelings about long hair and about street harassment. I don’t really have anything to add — or any answers — but I just wanted to say “me too!”
solidarity :)