For all my adult years I had short unkempt hair and dressed like a boy.  I was the subject of confusion, but the default assumption of strangers was man.  Street harassment ceased, and I had to be careful at ATMs after dark, lest I scare a woman.  I assumed misogyny was more or less bullshit, something that women brought upon themselves by consciously or unconsciously performing stereotypes. Of course, people yelled 'faggot' at me now and again, but that wasn't one iota of what I endured in my drag queen phase.

Then I got married.  I mistakenly showed BikeHusband a photo taken of a 14 year old me with very long hair, looking something like a Vogue model.  (All cheekbones, collarbones, and shoulder bones.)  

"Wasn't I pretty?" I kind of cackled.

"Not to be creepy, but yes, 14 year old Bike was pretty.  Would you mind growing your hair?"

So now I'm a woman again.  Six inches of keratin radically redefined my being in the world, as evidenced by these two stories:

An old man came into the store with a little boy who's nose ran prodigiously.  I grabbed two kleenexes, wiped the kids nose, and presented the clean tissue to the old man.

"Here you go, for later."

"I don't wipe kids' noses."  He wouldn't even extend his hand, and I realized that there would always be a woman to wipe the kids nose, that I was just one in a long line of unpaid domestics that constituted this guys existence.  

Another time, I was walking towards the bus stop, and I heard "Hey!"  I kept going, and then I heard again.  Finally, (I work at a place called Dan's Market) "Hey Dan's girl!  How are you doing?"

"Fine."  Dan's girl?  I'm 23 years old and my boss owns me?  I'm sure that the man just said the first thing that came to mind, but I realize wish that it had been an object I was wearing or the color of my hair, rather than a man who has only a professional relationship with me.

Of course, I'm guilty of misogyny.  When women have children that they aren't prepared to care for, I judge them.  When women with four yeard degrees work at Denny's because it's easy, I judge them. When women wear revealing clothes, and then complain of the male gaze, I judge them.

The male gaze is not not necessarily degrading, but it is clear that most men tend to look at the least dressed women.  This is the subject of endless debate, and in my life it comes down to this: Clothes can be very attractive without being revealing (I think this is true for all body types), but we're all adults, and women can wear what they like.  Men shouldn't stare, but girls, don't advertise Coke if you're not selling it.