Transcriber: Eunice Tan Reviewer: Tanya Cushman
I still remember the first time:
I just got out of school,
and a random guy on the street shouted something to me.
I didn't hear what he said, and I didn't react,
but the woman behind me got angry and shouted,
"Hey, asshole, she's only twelve years old."
This was probably my first catcall.
Little did I know
that this would be an often recurring phenomenon.
"I know what I would do with you, baby."
"Hey, horny girl, you wanna come with me?"
A group of guys licking their lips while whistling.
Eight years later,
I still didn't find the right approach to these kinds of shouts on the street.
It always felt like a one-sided power game.
They knew that they could say whatever they want,
and I couldn't do anything back.
I tried different ways of answering their behavior,
but none of them felt successful.
Going against it often resulted in long, nonsense discussions
or fights where I felt unsafe.
Ignoring it felt impossible
since ignoring it, in itself, already felt like an answer
and it often gave them a kick anyway.
Furthermore,
I didn't want to be a silent object
that they could just say whatever they want about.
So for a long time,
I just responded by putting up my middle finger,
but it never felt as satisfying as I hoped.
But I knew - the worst thing of it all -
was that I always felt angry at myself:
I was angry that I wasn't able to diss them right there, right then;
and I was angry at myself
that I was still thinking about what I could have said,
hours and hours after.
But I knew I was not the only one
or that it was me being hypersensitive.
Talking to my female friends,
I found out
every single one of them experienced the same struggle,
while talking to my male friends,
they weren't even aware that this was happening to us,
and they were even quite sceptical
because they had never seen it happening.
Now, this amazed me.
How was half of my friend group
forced to deal with this behavior on a daily basis,
while the other half wasn't even aware that this existed?
I think catcalling in itself -
yes, it's a rather mild form of sexual harassment.
Still, it shows so well the crooked values in our society,
and it shows so well
that women are still seen as sex objects
and will be judged like a meat inspection
just while doing their groceries.
It shows so well the eventual outcome of sexism in the bigger picture.
At age 20, I was sitting in a train.
Two guys were catcalling me,
and at the same time,
they were filming it and putting it on their Snapchat,
and I think they were even drawing male private parts on my face.
It was such a bizarre experience,
especially because they were filming me.
But it did make me realize something:
the same medium that intimidated me could also empower me.
So I took my inspiration from my Snapchatting catcallers
and thought of something better than just giving them the finger.
I decided to use my camera as a weapon and tool as well
to spread my message in the opposite direction.
I started to make selfies with the men who harassed me on the street,
and posted them on Instagram.
I was just mirroring their behavior:
they invaded my privacy,
so I occupied theirs.
One thing in our approaches is different though:
beforehand, I always ask for their consent.
I call the Instragram #dearcatcallers,
and in the first post,
I wrote that I would show my catcallers for the period of one month
and that other women could join me by doing the same
and using the hashtag #dearcatcallers.
As the month started -
as the month started and I started to make the selfies,
every time I was that scared.
I thought that they would be suspicious
about me taking a selfie right after they had verbally harassed me.
But the opposite happened:
they were all very happy to join me on the selfie
(Laughter)
and agreed with their thumbs up.
What were they thinking?
Were they so blind to the obvious
that they insulted me instead of complimented me?
In the picture, we are looking at the same camera,
though both with a completely different expression,
which clarifies the difference in experience we have
in the same situation.
It turned out
not only my male friends were ignorant around this problem,
but even the catcallers themselves
didn't know that they were doing anything wrong.
In the pictures, as a designer and artist,
I focus a lot on the looks of a frame.
And when making selfies with the men,
I put myself, their object,
and them, my objectifier,
into one composition.
Putting myself in the foreground
resembles the shift of power relation that was caused by this project.
I won back my freedom
by literally inviting the one who was suppressing it.
The camera became a mirror, to me, the men,
and by posting them online, to society as a whole.
As the month went by,
I gathered around 500 followers,
and I must admit I felt quite proud.
I gave an interview to a small Dutch student platform,
and the next day,
suddenly every second I was getting new followers.
I texted my parents:
"What is happening?"
My mother responded
that it probably was because she shared it on her Facebook.
But I was like, "Nah, I think it's something bigger."
Turned out I was already going viral.
And that week -
I couldn't eat for a week.
I was shaking the whole time
and accidentally said "Motherfucker" online for This Morning television,
which, by the way, unintentionally went viral again,
which I am slightly less proud of.
It was the last week of the month, though,
and so I put my final entry.
I had reached 20,000 followers,
and I thought, okay, this was it.
I still don't know how it happened,
but the week after,
I went viral again -
but now in the rest of the world.
In one day, I gained 100,000 followers;
the next day, again;
and eventually reached 350,000 followers
and tens of millions of views.
People all over the world were sharing their stories
and were debating amongst each other.
From Japan to Colombia,
from Turkey to Zimbabwe,
the reactions were really diverse.
A lot of girls wrote me
that it was the first time
they realized that they don't have to perceive this as normal
and just accept it,
while a lot of guys wrote me
that it made them reflect on their own behavior,
and apologized.
In the private messages,
I got a lot of really vulnerable and touching stories from girls,
but also from brothers, boyfriends, and fathers
that told me that they had talked about it with the women in their life
and that it had brought them closer.
I was touched and overwhelmed by their stories - they trusted me so.
But, of course, the project is on the internet
and the project smells like feminism,
so I already expected a tense tone in the comments section as well.
And indeed, I got some hate mail,
some dick pics, some death threats.
But, to be honest,
it didn't really touch me on a personal level;
it was only around 1% of all the comments anyway.
What I did not foresee, though,
was the vast amount of aggressive reactions
towards these men.
Around 50% of all the comments was heavy hate speech towards them.
Of course, I'm criticizing their behavior,
but I didn't think they were totally bad people.
Commenters, though, were wishing them to die,
calling them pigs, rapists,
were contacting their whole family, that they should be ashamed of them.
I didn't agree with these reactions and actions at all,
and so I was forced to decide
how I would position myself in this debate.
I noticed that it was so easy to start a discussion,
but that it is very hard to guide it.
I put -
And that it is very -
(Applause)
I noticed that it is so easy to start a discussion,
but that it is very hard to guide it.
And the -
So, of course, I didn't know
that their picture on the internet would spread out that big,
and I've always said that if they want their picture removed,
I'll do it without hesitation.
It's not about these specific men,
but more about what their behavior represents
and an attempt to criticize the sources where it comes from.
So as the month went by,
I was [wondering] how I could still continue with this project
because I didn't want the internet turning the page into an online execution.
So with the reaction of the internet
and with the rise of #MeToo,
I [wondered] how I could still get this nuanced tone around it.
Since I thought
I might have to even protect these catcallers on my page now,
I thought of blurring their images,
as I wanted to continue with the project
by putting another girl -
by posting -
sorry -
by putting another girl in charge of the page in another city.
But blurring the images didn't feel right.
It wouldn't shift the power relation,
and you wouldn't see the expression of the men;
it wouldn't map the phenomenon in a whole and in an honest and raw way.
Posting the pictures uncensored, though,
still felt too tricky.
Although I got a lot of images sent in,
I also knew that if I would repost one of the pictures
that would appear to be fake,
the whole project, and therefore message, would lose its strength.
Especially because it is such a painful fact
that women are often not believed in these kind of women's issues,
it was, for me, so important to be able to take the responsibility,
also, to be able to guarantee every image.
I wasn't able to curate which ones to take seriously
and which ones not,
since there were quite a lot of jokey ones as well.
So for now,
I left the project and the page as it is,
using Instagram as a digital museum for the collection.
I still encourage other women to join me in the movement, though -
if done in a streetwise way.
Of course, I also understand that it can have different risks
in different contexts and countries.
I learned a lot of things during this process,
but, surprisingly, the one thing that had brought me the most
was the realization of vulnerability as a strength.
Of course, this project is about the relationship between genders,
but it is also about how to get and stay in your own power.
For a long time, I told myself I was cooler than these guys
and that it didn't affect or touch me.
But it does:
it does me me feel objectified,
and it does make feel taken unseriously.
To be able to express my emotions and communicate them
with the aim to create awareness
brought me so much more than just to suppress my feelings.
And I hope we can pull this method even into further arts, design
and just in general life.
People often say we're now experiencing the third wave of feminism;
I prefer to call it the revolution of vulnerability.
Thank you.
(Applause)