‘Hey! You look like a superhero! Can you fly?” I have endured many years of street harassment, but this was a unique opening gambit. In this stranger’s defence, I was dressed in Wonder Woman’s colours that day, and the world is in dire need of saving. If nothing else, it certainly beats the creepster who whisper-yelled, “You look like you smelled good” at me a few weeks back. Welcome to summer, when the conditions are even more favourable for men who like to be nuisances.
I have shared so many of these interactions with friends. Each retelling becomes a determined act of neutralisation, a way to laugh about the absurdity of what accompanies having our specific bodies, to remove the sting.
There are multiple ways to deal with it; we zip through a mental Rolodex before settling on the “correct” tactic for the individual situation. In recent years, I have found myself favouring the old classic of jamming on my headphones and briskly picking up my pace. A friend prefers to leer and gesture crudely right back. Another likes to laugh in their faces. Results vary, and that is the real tax of summer. Not knowing what those responses will elicit is a small pebble in your pocket – and a new stone is added every time it happens.
Summer is still young, though, and I am not yet weighed down with this season’s burden. For now, I am delighting in the feeling of the sun on my legs, sitting on rooftops and balconies, and the carefree glory of all-day beach trips. Those are the times when I feel most like a superhero.
