I’m Not Here for Your Fatcalling

As a woman who is fat, I find myself at the intersection of a certain type of commentary. Those things make me visible, as does the fact that I walk a few miles every day. “Day” seems like a misnomer considering that I’ve avoided being outside when the sun was up this summer. It’s been ridiculously humid, so I only crawl out of my hobbit hole after midnight when it’s slightly cooler and no one can see the sweat dripping down my face.

Today was the first day where it was not so humid, and I made good use of it. I walked for a few groceries, played Pokemon with friends, and took a walk along the river walk for a total of 6.6 miles. Decent. Not the 10 miles I was getting a day a few years ago, but it’s been difficult to get back to where I want to be, but that’s more than most can say.

I guarantee that I worked harder today than the group of people who were sitting in their yard when I walked by, the group of people that contained one person who decided to yell in my direction (unknown to me because I was listening to a podcast) and a whole slew of people who continued to yell at me as I walked past. At some point, it became loud enough for me to hear over my earbuds, even though I had passed the yard.

At the point when it became clear that men and women were yelling at me to stop ignoring them and ‘give my number to him,’ I realized someone had catcalled me without me realizing and all their friends joined in.

Except to call it catcalling is not quite right. I knew there had to be a name for what I experience specifically as a fat woman, and I was right, there is: fatcalling.

See, sometimes people catcall me. Sometimes people are interested. I have been thin enough to”earn” that. But I have been otherwise. That’s where I am now.

Fatcalling differs from catcalling in that it’s not genuine. There’s an implication that the fatcall isn’t intended to be complimentary (as if catcalling really is, anyway). It’s intended to denigrate because the recipient is not considered conventionally attractive and does not deserve attention. It’s a farce designed to remind us — me — of that, and to make us — me — feel bad about my body. You cannot, even if you were inclined, respond to a fatcall as though it were a catcall. You’re not worthy of even being objectified in that way, and you’re supposed to know it. The fatcall is just a reminder.

I’ve been fatcalled more than one and, sadly, more than once by a group of people that included men and women. I would never engage in behavior like this as a teenager let alone an adult. It makes me sad to think about the world and the people who inhabit it.

It’s a sad world when you’d rather receive a catcall than deal with how people actually behave toward you.

Rest assured that I do not think of catcalls as positive. They’re harassment in every way. Yet they somehow seem preferable to fatcalls.

Both are rooted in misogyny and harassing fat and thin women differently just further divides us. Of course, that’s the point. Women are stronger together, so division is their tactic to weaken us, to paint women as the ‘enemy’ rather than misogyny or the patriarchy.

I won’t be distracted. I’ve got focus. Hell, I’m so focused I might not even notice when a person fatcalls me. That doesn’t mean they should, anyway. I deserve more respect. Hell, they should respect themselves more. If they weren’t so busy fatcalling, they might be able to learn that lesson from me.