On the hottest day of the year, in the Western world, XXI century, 21st June, I walk down the road, as a woman,
and I have to put up with some men shouting to me from a car, or mumbling as they walk closer to me, things like “Sexy sexy” and “gorgeous” and ” nice —“, four men in total.
200 meters, XXI century, North London.
How do I justify, excuse or explain this, how do I react to it?
I look down, don’t turn around, continue walking, being watched and eventually controlled, slightly offended, made silent in fact, and by the end of the road I am utterly angry.
Is it the heat of the month, the hormones of late springtime, the mating season, the catwalk season. No, they do mark the territory, the High street, the women, the heat of June.
Remnants of something past, not being updated.