“Why is it that’s that young boys feel as if it’s appropriate to shout obscenities at me? Am I a walking piece of meat for them? Why can’t my friend admit it’s a problem, that I shouldn’t laugh it off? Do I not deserve respect? Do I ask for it? By wearing my school uniform, am I being too sexual for males to control themselves? Why am I a bxtch for ignore them? Should I be grateful? Do I deserve that- am I simply an object? Am I simply a walking painting, for men to admire? Or am I a young woman? Do I have a future of my own- regardless of whether or not that guy likes my butt?”
This is a diary entry from when I was twelve. I still remember that day. That was the day boys MY AGE harassed me. It really opened my eyes.