(Notice to the Reader: This poem is from my Spring 2019 semester abroad in Saint Petersburg, Russia, and is based on personal experiences there. This was my first ever taste of city life. It is not meant to denigrate Russia, a place where I very much enjoyed being, nor is it meant as an insult to men.)
I have been catcalled in two Russian cities,
The ones they call capitals,
And asked out by an overfamiliar fellow
Who followed alongside and would not leave,
Stopped suddenly by an old, impertinent smoker
Who stood passing time at the crosswalk corner.
I have heard the most unpleasant, loud kiss
In the air beside my face
As I walked on the sidewalk to university,
Heard strange compliments from behind me
As I sat with another girl in the metro station,
Heard a guy lean over to his friends and say, “She’s cute,”
Not realizing I could understand.
I have been hailed stubbornly at night from a red car
With my friends on a street corner,
Been looked at going down the long metro escalator,
Been flirted with by a few more pleasant persons,
And asked sweetly after by one decent friend-of-a-friend.
I have been asked my name out of nowhere,
Asked my number ...
Asked where I am from by a too-interested drunk stranger,
Asked why I am not smiling,
Asked why I look scared—
As if you would understand.
As if you cared.
No one showed this small-town girl
The ropes to living in a city.
No one taught me beforehand in this language
How to say the words, “Get away from me”,
Or how to ignore someone without feeling ashamed
Or walk past a sales-boy who slyly startles me
Into stopping and now stands blocking my way.
They taught me how to ask directions and how to be polite,
How to buy metro tokens and
Keep my possessions held tight.
No one told me when it is safer to be a foreigner
Who understands nothing
And when it is better to speak my best Russian
With a flawless accent,
Except that we should pretend to not know Russian
If we are stopped by the police.
No one could have thought to tell me
How to make sure I get on a bus travelling the right direction.
Someone did instruct me
To shove my way confidently in and out of a metro car
And warned me to say “no” firmly
If I ever do not want something
But not what to do in case I forget how to even utter the word.
I have learned that averting my gaze
Is not a sign of humiliation
(It is a survival tactic),
And sometimes I choose the road and oncoming traffic
Instead of the sidewalk,
Where the men waiting in lines ogle
As if standing in a group
Gives them the right to be rude
(I will not refer to their brazenness as courage).
I have learned that I cannot always keep my wits about me:
When I am surprised I may surprise myself
(It is a wonder I did not find myself in real trouble).
I have learned to stare straight ahead,
Pretending I cannot see the several young men on the street
Who may or may not move aside,
All while I strive to be aware of my surroundings,
Wanting to pass them by as quickly as I can
But not to look like I am running away.
I have learned that walking with confidence
Limits the power of those watching me pass.
I have learned that many men
Are willing to treat me like a slut if I am wearing heels,
Regardless of how else I am dressed.
I have learned that if I am lost I had best not show it,
Because some men are kind
And others are scoundrels.
22 May 2019, origination; 28 December 2019 and 2 January 2020, expansion; March/April 2020, edits
I have been catcalled in two Russian cities,
The ones they call capitals,
And asked out by an overfamiliar fellow
Who followed alongside and would not leave,
Stopped suddenly by an old, impertinent smoker
Who stood passing time at the crosswalk corner.
I have heard the most unpleasant, loud kiss
In the air beside my face
As I walked on the sidewalk to university,
Heard strange compliments from behind me
As I sat with another girl in the metro station,
Heard a guy lean over to his friends and say, “She’s cute,”
Not realizing I could understand.
I have been hailed stubbornly at night from a red car
With my friends on a street corner,
Been looked at going down the long metro escalator,
Been flirted with by a few more pleasant persons,
And asked sweetly after by one decent friend-of-a-friend.
I have been asked my name out of nowhere,
Asked my number ...
Asked where I am from by a too-interested drunk stranger,
Asked why I am not smiling,
Asked why I look scared—
As if you would understand.
As if you cared.
No one showed this small-town girl
The ropes to living in a city.
No one taught me beforehand in this language
How to say the words, “Get away from me”,
Or how to ignore someone without feeling ashamed
Or walk past a sales-boy who slyly startles me
Into stopping and now stands blocking my way.
They taught me how to ask directions and how to be polite,
How to buy metro tokens and
Keep my possessions held tight.
No one told me when it is safer to be a foreigner
Who understands nothing
And when it is better to speak my best Russian
With a flawless accent,
Except that we should pretend to not know Russian
If we are stopped by the police.
No one could have thought to tell me
How to make sure I get on a bus travelling the right direction.
Someone did instruct me
To shove my way confidently in and out of a metro car
And warned me to say “no” firmly
If I ever do not want something
But not what to do in case I forget how to even utter the word.
I have learned that averting my gaze
Is not a sign of humiliation
(It is a survival tactic),
And sometimes I choose the road and oncoming traffic
Instead of the sidewalk,
Where the men waiting in lines ogle
As if standing in a group
Gives them the right to be rude
(I will not refer to their brazenness as courage).
I have learned that I cannot always keep my wits about me:
When I am surprised I may surprise myself
(It is a wonder I did not find myself in real trouble).
I have learned to stare straight ahead,
Pretending I cannot see the several young men on the street
Who may or may not move aside,
All while I strive to be aware of my surroundings,
Wanting to pass them by as quickly as I can
But not to look like I am running away.
I have learned that walking with confidence
Limits the power of those watching me pass.
I have learned that many men
Are willing to treat me like a slut if I am wearing heels,
Regardless of how else I am dressed.
I have learned that if I am lost I had best not show it,
Because some men are kind
And others are scoundrels.
22 May 2019, origination; 28 December 2019 and 2 January 2020, expansion; March/April 2020, edits
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