Sarah, 25, from London, who is married with no children, says: 'I always used to think wolf whistling was a bit of harmless fun – a compliment even. As a shy teenager, getting a bit of attention from a passing guy was a real confidence boost; a friendly acknowledgement that the time I'd spent getting ready to leave the house wasn't going unappreciated and total strangers thought I looked good.
But the more it happened, and the more intimidating the situations became, the more uncomfortable these 'harmless compliments' made me feel. I can remember it happening once when I was on my own, taking my usual shortcut home, and suddenly feeling vulnerable in a way that I never had before, when men had whistled at me in more public spaces. Rather than a cheeky signal of appreciation, it actually felt quite sinister and frightening, and made me acutely aware that I was alone with a man much bigger and stronger than me.
Since then the tone of wolf whistling seems to have changed for me. I feel self-conscious and anxious around strange men, worried that they're silently judging me even when they don't whistle or leer at me. When I lived in Paris, being harassed by strange men on the street became part of my weekly routine, and what I'd once thought of as just a flirty bit of whistling became associated with much nastier, scarier things.
First it would be a wolf whistle, then it would be clicking their tongue or making kissy noises in my face, or an unwanted attempt to strike up a conversation, despite me having headphones in or my head buried in a book. If I didn't respond, or at least smile back pleasantly, next would come the abuse – shouting at me, telling me I was ugly anyway (that's obviously why he was so upset that I wouldn't give him my phone number) or following me home. It was no longer harmless, flirty fun – it was petrifying.
I stopped going out on my own after dark unless I had to, I started carrying my keys in my hand, ready to attack any hypothetical stranger that tried to grab me, and several times I ran home from the station, convinced that the man who hadn't left me alone on the train was now following me back to my flat. And I was one of the lucky ones – friends were groped, or had men expose themselves to them on public transport. Like Poppy Smart, I found that the sustained harassment made my anxiety increasingly difficult to live with.
Men regularly seemed to know that the intimidation gave them a certain power over me
The way some of these situations escalated made me realise how much wolf whistling is rooted in the same kind of everyday sexism as the more frightening harassment I experienced. Men saw me as part of the landscape – a piece of meat, or public property – and felt entitled to pass judgement on my appearance, whether positive or negative (or both, sometimes even within a matter of seconds!) Not only that, but they felt entitled to my attention in return – if I didn't want to speak to them, I was being rude.
Men regularly seemed to know that the intimidation gave them a certain power over me. They'd whistle at me while I was alone and they were with a group of lads, and then laugh about it amongst themselves, while I walked away with my gaze fixed firmly on the ground in front of me. It couldn't feel more different from the warm, confident feeling I get from my husband telling me I look lovely when I'm dressed up for dinner, my grandad greeting me as "gorgeous", or my friends mock wolf-whistling when I show up for a night out looking especially fantastic in my latest H&M purchase.
These days, wolf whistling makes me angry more than anything else. The Everyday Sexism Project has highlighted just how many men feel entitled to whistle not only at women, but even at young girls in their school uniforms. Whilst I genuinely believe that plenty of men who whistle at strange women in the street do so with perfectly innocent intentions – hoping to raise a smile or make her feel good about herself – so few seem aware of how overwhelming, uncomfortable and intimidating it can be, or of how regular and frustrating an occurrence street harassment is in our everyday lives.
Frankly, regardless of whether they're 'just being nice' or they're a creep gearing up for a grope, there's still something horribly sexist and patronising about men whistling at women they don't know. Women don't go out in public for the benefit or approval of random men, and plenty of us don't want or need it. '
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