I was 16 years old the first time I was catcalled. I was wearing a new pair of high-waisted shorts and was walking through town with one of my female friends, when a car full of teenage boys drove by, yelling and honking and gesturing crudely at us. Neither of us knew how to react, so we just stared back at them, processing what had happened. We were frozen in place by surprise, and by the time either of us had recovered from the shock, the car was long gone.

Growing up, I assumed that I would be the type of womxn that wouldn’t take crap from anyone—especially from men. I thought that I would be the womxn that yells back at catcallers, but when the time came to prove myself, I choked.

After that day, I became self-conscious in a way that I had never previously been. Every outfit I wore went through a careful analysis of all the possible ways that a man could objectify me. Those high-waisted shorts were shoved into the back of my closet, unofficially labeled as harassment-worthy. Sixteen is already an age full of insecurities, and being made to feel like a slab of meat was icing on the self-loathing cake.

Nearly five years later, I understand that wearing different shorts wouldn’t have stopped those boys from harassing me and my friend—nor would yelling back have taught them a lesson. I’ve had enough experience with street harassment to know that it’s never my fault for being harassed. And yet, the feelings of shame, anger, and fear don’t go away. I’m always left wondering: Did I do the right thing by keeping my head down? Should I have yelled back at him?, or if I had yelled back: Was I assertive enough to make him get the message? No reaction ever feels like the right reaction, and my self-criticism only ever works to fuel my anxiety and rage.

These feelings and experiences are certainly not unique to me.

According to a study published by Stop Street Harassment, a nonprofit organization dedicated to issues surrounding sexual harassment, 81 percent of womxn have experienced sexual harassment in their lifetime, and of that, 66 percent of these instances are street harassment.

In my lived experience, I know more womxn who have been catcalled at some point in their lives than those who haven’t. During my sophomore year, I took a college-sponsored self-defense class, and the instructors asked everyone why they were taking the class. Every single womxn in the room answered, “Because I want to feel safe in public.” To me, this proves that even womxn that haven’t experienced sexual harassment personally are aware of the constant threat it poses, and are constantly looking for ways to protect themselves against it.

As you might guess, living under the constant threat of harassment is not good for womxn’s mental health. A study from Cornell University shows a direct link between street harassment and intense feelings of anger, depression, fear, and low self-esteem. Over half of the respondents also reported changing their clothing, refusing to attend a social event, choosing a different transportation option, or feeling distracted at school or work due to harassment. Several of my femme friends—including myself—have designated “invisibility” outfits that help us avoid men’s unwanted attention. Unfortunately, these security blankets don’t eliminate the chance of catcalling—and when it happens, it can be even more jarring.

In a world riddled with such traumatic experiences, it can be hard for womxn to feel like they have agency; however, there are ways that womxn have reclaimed their voices in the face of harassment.

Some womxn find power in confronting the catcallers when they feel safe enough to do so. Others find comfort in sharing their stories and building communities—both online and in-person—with other womxn and male allies. Personally, I’ve found solstice in creating art. After a particularly frustrating catcalling incident, I realized that I have too much pent-up anger and fear because of catcalling, and so I started drawing the event, depicting the way that I wish I had reacted. The act of reframing harassment on my terms has been cathartic and has allowed me to let go of some of my residual shame and anger associated with various catcalling instances.

There’s no right or wrong way to handle street harassment, but my hope is that, until the day comes when catcalling is no longer the norm, womxn can find comfort in finding creative ways to bark back.

Barking Back: An Ode To Catcallers