Voices: Catcalls aren't flattering; they're frightening

I sat next to my mother in disbelief as the police officer in our living room looked down, scribbling on his pad of paper.

"Are you sure he didn't just think you were cute?" he asked.

Maybe he thought I was cute. But does that justify him following me for blocks, shouting sexual advances out his car window as I was trying to walk home?

I was only in high school. I had called the police department in my hometown of Pitman, N.J., because I was scared.

Which brings us to the New York Post piece this week by Doree Lewak titled "Hey, ladies — catcalls are flattering! Deal with it," in which Lewak says "enjoying male attention doesn't make you a traitor to your gender."

She says catcalls give her a sense of "self-worth and validation." And she isn't just sharing her own take — she says other women should feel the same way.

Well, not this woman. Catcalling is horrifying, dangerous and demeaning. Catcalling does not mean you are beautiful, smart, strong or interesting. Catcalling means a stranger values you so little he doesn't care if he makes you feel uncomfortable or threatened.

No matter what is said — a catcall is never a compliment.

I am in training for my third marathon, and every single time I go running in a public place without my male running partner, I am the target of catcalls. Yes, every time. It doesn't make me feel "over the moon" or like I am "looking good that day" — as Lewak says. It makes me scared.

Scared to be on the streets, in the daylight, in a city I love. It makes me afraid I am going to be attacked. It makes me want to quit a sport I love so I never have to wonder if someone who shouts, "Come over here and let me get a look at that ass," is harmless or is dangerous. Because I never know.

I've run through a crowd in Washington, D.C., and been grabbed by a stranger while his friends laughed and shouted about my shorts. Now I don't run through crowds of men.

I've run by a construction site in New Jersey to have multiple men yell down at me from above — one tried to dump his cup of water on me. Now I avoid construction sites.

I've run in my college town, Burlington, Vt., and been followed by a man on a bike for three blocks, calling after me to "smile" and "run towards me instead."

A whistle might just be a whistle. But to a woman running or walking alone — we can never be sure. Will that whistle turn into a lewd comment? A grab? A rape? We can't know — and we shouldn't have to wonder.

Lewak's article is dangerous. If even one person reads this piece and believes that street harassment is nothing but a compliment, women will have to face even more fear.

Don't whistle. Don't honk and shout. If you have something nice to say, come up and say it in person, kindly.

I am tired of being afraid to walk alone. There are enough real predators out there. Don't create more fear with your catcalls.

DiBlasio is a breaking news reporter at USA TODAY. Follow her on Twitter @ndiblasio