I staggered rearward , trying to find my residual and process what had just happened . Adrenaline coursed through my organization . Although I could n’t see his cheek , my peripheral captured a gentleman’s gentleman disappearing into a ocean of pedestrians .
I was standing on the box of University Place and East 12th Street in downtown New York City this past February when it happen . I was on my room to a film festival at NYU . It was a beautiful Saturday forenoon , and downtown New York was bustling with street vendors and footer .
I know I should have been more aware of my surroundings .
But the sun was shining , and I was cryptical in conversation with my friend Jill on FaceTime . She was back in Boston , and we were laugh about the awful hair days that we were both having .
Snow was in the forecast , so I tucked my wild Robert F. Curl under a beany . But , for the sake of our conversation , I stepped away from the crowds and removed my hat to reveal the mussy curls underneath .
For a split second , I forget I was in New York City . It felt like I was back in Boston , lost in conversation with a friend who was sit across from me on the couch and not 200 miles away .
My guard was down for only a 2d , but that was long enough for a sudden force out to jolt me back to reality .
My Quaker ’s cheek vanish from my vision . A large palm had brutally squeeze my phone into my jumper . I staggered backward , trying to regain my balance and operation what had just happened . Adrenaline run through my system . Although I could n’t see his face , my computer peripheral charm a man evaporate into a ocean of pedestrian .
My Quaker ’s implicated vocalisation was drown out by the sounds of city sirens and the hum of passing stranger , while my startled eyes met the gaze of a shocked young humanity who stood only a few feet out from me . He clearly witnessed what had just fall out .
A mix of confusion , surprisal , anger , and emotion whirl inside me , but all I could suffocate out was the vex question , “ Was I just punched ? ”
He confirmed my suspicions with a KO’d but definitive “ Yeah ! ” His eyes remained locked with mine . “ You were ! ”
The walk signal winkle a moment after , and without giving the man next to me a 2nd look , I scurry forward , desperate to escape Manhattan ’s crowds . I told Jill I would call her back afterwards . Glass tears began to well up in my eyes . All I need was to evaporate into a dark theater .
This moment was jarring , yet it also made me mull over on something deep that I ’ve noticed in club : a certain , almost palpable bad blood toward women who dare to take up outer space .
The true statement is adult female have historically sour to claim their outer space in society .
build like Mary Wollstonecraft and Virginia Woolf recognized the disparities in how charwoman were treated by society and sound these concerns in their writings , A exoneration of the Rights of Woman(Wollstonecraft ) andA Room of One ’s Own(Woolf ) . These cleaning woman were criticized for their extremist ideas on women ’s rights and their rejection of traditional sexuality roles .
These cleaning woman serve as historically famous examples of the criticism against women who challenge what the “ position quo " was . However , the animosity toward self-reliant women has seeped into the crevices of everyday social club , and just the human activity of existing in public spaces seems to be enough to barrack forcible retaliation .
I go through the forcible vitriol that womanhood who just appear visually glad may run into , and I am far from the only one .
This retiring fall , women in New York City were being randomly plug on the street of Manhattan . Multiple local newsoutlets reported on the rape , but it wassocial mediathat turned a local narrative into a interior curiosity : “ Why were women being plug ? ”
There was no confirmed result . But my bowel oblige me to believe that the physical attacks were a ware of the brewing thwarting that select members of fellowship have toward women who do n’t “ stay in their place . ” Basically , woman ca n’t be haphazardly punched on the street if they do n’t leave their homes .
I ’ve notice a grow frustration toward woman who happen to live public lives but conduct themselves in socially appropriate manner , given their circumstances . A few months ago , Taylor Swift , one of the most widely recognized women on earth , was heckled and booed at Super Bowl LIX . She was there to support her boyfriend , Kansas City Chiefs nasty end Travis Kelce . Swift was not the only famous person in attending who proudly repped their team . However , she was the only one to have a vitriolic response to her face being broadcast on the big screen .
It should be noted that she was n’t doing anything particularly piquant , entertaining , or inflammatory when she was broadcast . She was just sit there , and it wasreportedthat she asked , “ What ’s depart on ? ” after she realized fans were booing her .
The animosity toward Taylor Swift in this mo has been scrutinized and debated . Anarticlein Glamour powder magazine by Stephanie McNeal argued that the moment symbolized the “ rapid increase in misogynism in our acculturation , ” while a Op - Ed response from bourgeois writerTim Murtaughin the Washington Times contend that McNeal ’s viewpoint was a “ evaporate down ” and ignorant to the fact that the Super Bowl is an inherently rowdy and playfully agonistical event .
I am not here to question someone ’s right to source an op - ed . However , in the bourgeois Washington Timespiece , Murtaugh drop a line that Swift has “ made herself the living symbolic representation of [ the Kansas City Chiefs . ] ” I take issue with the theme that by existing , throw a beau , and choose to support him at his secret plan , Swift has , in some way , overstepped and , therefore , deserved a vitriolic and bellicose answer from crowds at football game .
I almost did n’t save this . When I first thought of redact into give-and-take the incident that go on on the corner of University Place and East 12th Street in downtown New York , I ask myself , “ Am I just quetch ? Or being overly striking ? ”
But as I guess more about the shove and then what I find at the Super Bowl LIX , I could n’t help but recognize the unsettling reality that , even in our most innocent or gleeful moments , woman are still held to unacceptable standards . Even when we are standing still , minding our own business enterprise , the idea of charwoman taking up space is enough to anger those who decline to accept our right to take up space .
Julia Doyle is an NYC based journalist from Boston , Massachusetts . She writes about feminism , mutant , civilization , and the economy . Her body of work has been featured in The Fifty and CBS News . When she is n’t writing , she can be found training for her next road subspecies , in the pool , or baking ! She ’s always on the hunt for a new tale or pixy recipe!Do you have a personal write up you ’d like to see print on BuzzFeed ? station us a pitch atessay-pitch@buzzfeed.com .
