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My Name is Not “Gorgeous Tits”

I was walking back to my apartment after spending a late night out with my friends. A friend of mine who was visiting me wanted to head back in earlier, so I gave her my keys. As I call my friend to let me in, I noticed that there was a third man outside of the apartment door hanging out with the two door men that are usually there every weekend. The third man stares at my chest and says, “Nice tits.”

In less than a second, I feel my blood rushing to my face and anger pulse throughout my entire body while I continue to look towards the door. I feel my mouth fill up with venom; desperate to spew hurtful language towards him to make him regret ever having the nerve to even look in my direction. But my mind stops me. I am forced to remind myself that I am outside alone at 3:45 am waiting to be let into my single bedroom apartment and that this man is here with his friends, my doormen. All I am able to mutter out is an “ok” as I recognize the potential danger from making this man angry.

The doormen laugh as they apologize for their friend’s comment, seemingly trying to blow it off as a joke as a result of my visible discomfort. I continue to stare straight at the doorway while I wait for my friend. The man smiles at me and speaks again, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I meant GORGEOUS tits.” My doormen laugh and roll their eyes as I stand there being ogled at by a man old enough to be my grandfather. I am paralyzed in my own personal limbo; stuck between my fear of potential danger and my anger, whispering to me not to give this man the satisfaction of a fake smile. I utter out another “ok” as my friend finally approaches the door.

I texted my landlord the next day to inform him about the situation from the night before. He responds by saying the incident should not have happened and that it was not okay, he then reassures me that he will look into this and get back to me. Although the lingering fear that I potentially angered three men who know where I live, I feel relieved that my landlord handled the situation appropriately. I felt glad that I used my voice by speaking to my landlord instead of ignoring what happened.

Sometimes I wish that in that moment I answered back and made that man feel as uncomfortable as I felt, but I have to remind myself that I acted appropriately. If anyone is reading this article and has found themselves in a similar situation, you deserve to know that keeping yourself safe does not mean that you didn’t do enough for yourself. It means that you were successful in doing the best you could. Using your voice with strategy and intent can potentially help your voice be heard. No matter how or when you use your voice, you deserve to be heard.

 

HCXO,

Alexa

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