Harassed at a Gas Station

This whole ordeal happened on an unusually windy November night. After an exhausting and somewhat emotional afternoon preparing for an upcoming accounting exam, I tiredly crawled my way back to my welcoming car.

Upon turning the key and hearing the roar of my rundown engine, I was greeted by a red flashing light in the lower left corner of my dashboard indicating that my gas tank was low. It took me a second to ponder all of my possible options, but due to the fact that I had a busy week ahead of me, I decided to take a short detour on my trip home to fill up my gas-guzzling car.

I decided to go to the Wal-Mart gas station just off of Jackson because it is always well lit and relatively populated, even at 10 p.m. Pulling into the gas station, I was shocked to see only two other cars there.

Because I am a creature of habit, I pulled into the gas pump that I normally use, which happened to be directly behind a dated red Jeep. I noticed two college aged guys standing outside of their car together, pumping gas. At first glance, they appear to be a gay couple, because I don’t know any platonic friendships that require help doing something as mundane as pumping gas.

As soon as I pull in and my headlights reflect off of their dusty back windshield, I make eye contact and give a soft smile to the “seemingly gay couple”, then I go about the process of pumping gas (an act that, as a 20 year old, I have yet to fully master).

After struggling with the machine a couple of seconds, I finally get the pump to cooperate. A bit awkwardly, I stand next to my dusty red car, and stair at my reflection in the window, questioning my choice of hairstyle for the day.

As my gas tank is slowly fills itself up, I hear a faint whistle to my left. I ignore it at first, thinking that maybe someone is calling their dog. When I hear the annoying sound again, I look up to see that the “seemingly gay couple” has added a third member, and they are all staring at me.

Once I realize what is going on, I calmly put my pump on autopilot (or whatever it’s called), slip back into my car, scroll through Instagram, and avoid eye contact with the sexually driven strangers.

To my surprise, the three guys took my submissive actions as “playing hard to get”. In order to ensure getting my attention, the boys start shouting dehumanizing “compliments” by saying things such as “why don’t you smile pretty thing”, “you look good in those leggings”, and my personal favorite, “those pants would look even better on my bedroom floor”.

By this point, I was absolutely astonished by the situation that I had found myself in.

Finally, out of the corner of my eye, I see the three boys load into their Jeep and take off, tempting me with the idea that this form of social torture was over, but I was wrong. At this point, the Jeep proceeds to circle around the gas station twice, whistling and murmuring inaudible sexist comments.

In this moment, I feel completely outnumbered, victimized, and dehumanized.

What is most upsetting to me is the fact that these three boys would probably not have participated in this sexist practice if they were alone themselves. For some reason, men feel that catcalling women somehow makes them more masculine, and is a surefire way to display their patriarchal dominance in front of their equally egotistical counterparts.

It disgusts me how I live in a society where, a woman cannot even go to a gas station by herself at night, without the fear of being sexually objectified and ridiculed. This is not a place where I want young girls to be raised. If one thing is certain, this kind of psychological, verbal, and emotional torture MUST STOP.

For the sake of women everywhere, we must all (regardless of our age, race, religion, or gender) band together and created a society where sexual objectification is not encouraged or tolerated. Because implying that a woman is only good for sex is not flattering… it’s insulting.