Catcalling is a daily reality for women runners – most men don’t grasp the extent of it
If it happens to me twice, then it’s a good day. Twice is, on average, how many times I’m catcalled while I’m out for a run. Sometimes it’s as high as seven; rarely is it ever zero. When this first began to happen, I’d ignore it. Turn the volume up on my music. Keep my head down. But as I got older, and the catcalling persisted, I started to react more viscerally: shouting back, telling them to “f*** off”, generally trying to confront them. Then I’d run off again as quickly as possible, trying to get my body to stop shaking.
How dare these lewd men shout out obscenities while I go about my daily exercise, I’d think. What do they even want from me, anyway? A conversation about how my day is going? The pride of knowing they’ve humiliated me? Do they
