Peace

I remember the first time I got catcalled. ‘Come suck my dick!’ the boy yelled from the other side of the river at the top of his lungs, making sure the 11-year-old girl across could hear him. When the catcalling was still new, I wanted to hear it so I could reel in my justified anger. Feel every drop of it. Wish those boys would choke on their words. Seethe about the fact that I was a child when they started and they didn’t care.

After a while, I got really tired, too tired to think of how unfair it was. I realized that nothing I did would make it stop. And so I put my headphones on. I don’t even always listen to music. Sometimes I just enjoy the peace and quiet of noise-cancellation. I don’t tense up when a group of boys walks by, when they stare and the stare sticks, when mouths open, brows furrow, and words come out with an entitled little smile. I wouldn’t know what they’re saying. I’m not listening.

In a way, I'm protecting myself. I no longer allow those pesky, little boys a minute of my day or an ounce of anger or annoyance. All made possible because someone decided to invent noise-canceling headphones.