Creepers Gonna Creep

I finally got to run outside yesterday! Fresh air! Sunshine! Breeze! No more hamster-wheel feelings on the treadmill!

It was glorious, other than the one thing that happens to all of us females when we run (or heck, when we stroll) outside at one point or another in our lives: stupid cat calls.

Somehow, at some point, a horrible tradition began somewhere that made it socially okay to yell taunting things at girls who are walking or running in your general vicinity. It happened all the time in Spain, Pilsen, and it happens here too. We live right next to the Illinois Prairie Path, in a little suburb west of Chicago. Anywhere you go, it seems, people think it's okay for this to happen.

I hate the mind games that this makes me play in planning my response. How should I play this? No eye contact? Make mean eye contact? Pretend they're not there? Cross to the other side of the street to avoid people as I run in a never-ending game of Stranger-Danger-Frogger? Am I wearing the wrong thing? Should I respond with a snarky rebuttal, or completely ignore it to show that I'm not playing into their stupid power play?

When I'm running, I'm constantly looking out for the situation where I'm alone with another runner/walker/bystander (thanks dad, for the years of training on Situational Awareness!) who happens to be male, and run the mental gymnastics routine of questions listed above on how to respond to the situation.

In this case, I ran past a little restaurant, where two men were smoking outside, and instead of crossing the street to the other side, I decided I wouldn't give in to that obvious gesture that often causes even more descriptive things yelled at a street's distance. One of the old dudes whistled and called out, "Hey there! Want some company?" as I ran past, and started to take a few steps chasing me as a joke. I know this last part happened not because I saw it, but because I heard his keys jingling in rhythm with my steps for a few seconds in my direction as I kept my eyes fixed firmly on my own feet. Don't give them the reaction they want, I kept thinking to myself, so it took all of my willpower to not increase my pace or turn back to address them.

I started thinking: Are my shorts too short? Did I provoke it by running right in front of them? Nope. Stop Anna. Wrong Questions. I had on shorts and a t-shirt, but that is besides the point. The questions should be more along the lines of Why is this okay? and What do we have to do to stop it from happening? 

I asked Brian once if he had ever worried about being attacked in his life. He said he hadn't. I asked him if he had ever taken precautions not to draw attention to himself out in public. He hadn't. I asked if he had ever walked to his car in a parking lot, or been at home alone, or taken a jog on a Saturday afternoon, and have to confront the fear in his head about being assaulted. He said he hasn't. He is understanding of my crazy thoughts, feels badly that it is that way, but like me, is at a loss of how to change things. I hate the amount of mental energy I spend on being aware of these things. It's not fair that women have to jump through mental hoops to be so proactive for the sake of their own safety, instead of spending their time running thinking about productive things like work, friendships, spirituality, and how Jennifer Lawrence would totally want to be your best friend if she just got the chance to know you.

I've decided to do three things in response:

1. Call it out when it happens (hence this post), and tell smart people like you to do the same. Tell people that you think this is ridiculous so we can start changing the attitudes out there in the ether.

2. Look at insecurity and fear that causes people to act like this. Laugh at it through things like the video below, recognizing the pathetic motivators behind it.

3. Take a note from Taylor Swift, and just keep on going when the Creepers gonna creep, creep, creep. I'm just gonna jog, jog, jog. No need to give in to the fear and banish myself to the tread mills forever. I'll be out there again next weekend. You should join me.