Dear men of the world,

Stop catcalling women. Let us walk down the street. Let us finish our workout in peace. Let us enjoy our run. Stop honking your horns. Stop whistling. Stop acting like predators. Stop being predators.

STOP. Just let us run.

I have complained about the catcalls and inappropriate behavior of the male race before. Usually it is met by an eye-roll or two. So many insist that,

“Deep down, women actually love that shit.”

Yes. Outrageous as it seems, I have been told that we actually love this unsolicited attention. I have had a conversation with a group of men, during which my girlfriends and I pleaded with them to never, ever harass a woman jogger again. We promised these men that no, deep down, women do not love being catcalled. We actually all have a festering, deep-seeded rage that threatens to boil up to the surface every single time it happens. I personally have fantasized about taking a substantial tree branch to a catcaller’s rusted pick-up truck, and busting the ever-living crap out of it. I would be lying if I said I have never had to stop myself from walking up to a guy and round-housing him right in the neck. One man, a good friend actually, asked me,

“If you don’t like the attention when you workout, why don’t you just cover up? Wear baggier pants and stuff?”

That pisses me right the hell off. Why do I have to cover up on an 80-degree day, while men can run around wearing nothing but a pair of athletic shorts and Nike’s? They get to feel safe. Nobody yells at them out car windows and makes them feel self-conscious about their bodies. The chances of them getting grabbed off a path and raped in the bushes are quite low. They don’t have to focus on making eye contact with every passer-by to lower their chances of being attacked. They don’t have to secretly turn off the music in their earbuds when they pass a stranger to make sure they can hear if somebody decides to approach from behind. They don’t need to worry about sticking to busy streets so that there are plenty of eye witnesses and help available in the event that their personal space is violated. I wonder what that is like? To just throw on your shorts and go? Focus 100% on your workout? Not have a tiny jar of mace in your waistband? I can’t even fathom that freedom.

I got ready for a run today. I threw on a sports bra, tank top and a pair of fitness capri leggings. I tossed my hair into a ponytail, slipped on my running shoes, popped in my earbuds and took off. I didn’t look in a mirror. I didn’t consider my appearance, because why in the hell would what I look like matter in that moment? I had no make up on and put zero effort into how I looked. My thoughts focused solely on the practicality of my run, yet it’s my fault that I got catcalled because my clothing was tight? Here’s the thing: Baggy clothes make it hard to run. Cotton sweats hold in heat and get bogged down with sweat. Why in the hell do women need to think twice about what they wear during a workout?

Reasons I wear tight clothes to workout:

1. Moisture-wicking fabric keeps me cool as I sweat LIKE ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING.
2. My sports bra holds my boobs up. It has one legit job and it doesn’t fail me, provided it fits properly. Proper fit for a sports bra requires it to be tight to the skin.
3. The leggings are like a second skin, moving with my body and allowing me full range of motion.
4. These leggings, unlike bulky sweatpants, also reduce thigh friction. The thigh friction struggle IS REAL. Am I right, ladies? Nobody wants to end an hour of running with raw thigh skin. Nobody.
5. Leggings designed for running also have a pouch that securely holds a cell phone in the waistband, so I can take it along for my run without it being cumbersome to hold or knocking around loosely in a pocket.
6. Bright colors and reflective material on the clothes keep me safe by allowing me to be spotted from a distance by the bikers and drivers that share the sidewalks, streets and paths with runners.

And that is just to name a few! Workout and running clothes have practical purposes. In fact, my workout clothes cover more of my body than some other everyday outfits I have seen people wearing out in public. I am fully covered when I workout, from chest to knee. I am not wearing these clothes to be sexually suggestive. In fact, looking sexy is the absolute LAST thing on my mind when I am running. I’m mostly focused on my time, form, distance, trying not to sound like a freight train while gasping for oxygen, and most importantly, the amount of extra food I’ll be able to eat after burning off these 300 calories.

Until, that is, some asshole decides to hang his stupid head out a car window and start the inevitable bullshit that every woman alive is all too familiar with.

“Hey blondie! Who you runnin’ from!?”

“Damn girl! Look at that body! Keepin’ it tight!”

“Owwww owwwww!”

Orrrrr there’s always the traditional whistle and horn honk, if they are passing by without time to articulate one of the oh-so-eloquent sentences above.

One of my girlfriends was running, and had to stop at a cross walk. She was innocently stretching her calves while waiting for the traffic signal to change. (This is a completely normal behavior while running, may I add. Nothing sexually suggestive about calf stretches.) This was when a guy stuck his arm out the car window and snapped a picture of her. He followed that up by screaming, “DAMN, GIRL! SPANK BANK!” before the light changed and he drove off. So now there is a picture of her, in a vulnerable position, taken without her permission, on a stranger’s phone. If you don’t know what a spank bank is, I’ll let you google that on your own time. Are you offended for her? Because I certainly am.

Now I cannot speak entirely for her, but I can tell you that the minute anything like that happens to me, my mind snaps back from whatever enjoyable, relaxing place it has gone during my run. My thoughts are then focused purely on my personal safety. I now know those men noted my presence. They know what I look like, what I am wearing and what road I am running down. They went out of their way to target me and call out. If they took the time to call out, how many other men noted my presence and didn’t call out? Did any of them take a picture? What if they did? How do you think that makes me, or any other woman in that position, feel? I’ll tell you what, we certainly are NOT flattered. We definitely are NOT secretly loving it.

WE EFFING HATE IT.

This is why I cannot run the same routes day-to-day and week-to-week. This is why I have to make sure my husband knows my routes and how long I should be gone. This is why I wear a GPS tracker on my runs. This is why I carry mace in my waistband. Women runners are told to ALWAYS change our routes and times of our runs. Don’t be predictable. It makes you a target. Somebody could note the route you are running and the time of day, and they might return to that spot at that time tomorrow, or a week from now. They could watch you for a day or two, and then you are prey. You are no longer simply training for your half marathon or 5k. Now you are a victim. Some will call you paranoid, but if you don’t do all this? If you think you can just leave your house wearing a sports bra and leggings for a run, and God-forbid, something terrible happens?

On some level, society will view that as your own fault. You will have to carry some of the blame for what a man has done to you. YOU wore the tight clothes. YOU forgot the mace. YOU took the same route at the same time every Saturday morning. How could YOU be so stupid? You silly girl. You made yourself vulnerable, and YOU let the bad guy catch you.

So, men in my life, I need you to understand all of this. I need you to look at how you are able to walk around, every day, feeling safe and secure. I need you to realize that all the women you know do not have that same freedom and security. Take a minute and think about it. I need you to help us get there some day. I don’t want to produce another generation of boys that think this behavior is acceptable. I don’t want my little girls to know what it feels like to be catcalled. I don’t want them to EVER have to look at their own clothing, body, appearance, routine or actions and think that it must have been their own fault that they were sexually harassed. I don’t want our generation of adults to shrug it off as “boys being boys” and “that girl was asking for it”.

Please start with setting the example. I need you to stop catcalling women. Stop thinking it’s okay for other men to catcall women. Stop telling us to cover ourselves up. Stop taking pictures of us without our permission. Stop leering at our bodies. Stop insisting that we love being sexually harassed.

Stop rape culture.

Just let us run.

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