Done Being Your Good Girl

“That makes me uncomfortable.”

This is a phrase that my aunt’s sister-in-law gave me to say when a man makes an unwelcome comment or sound regarding my appearance.

It’s a phrase I could’ve used a long time ago.

Let me tell you a story. It’s pretty personal—quite personal, actually. And it will put you, the reader, in a position to judge me harshly. I’m asking you to set aside your judgment for a few minutes and just try to understand me. Understand that my life experiences have been different from yours, my nature is different from yours, and my strengths and weaknesses are different from yours. Things that may be easy for you are not so easy for me.

Many years ago, I dated a guy I met on a dating website. I thought he was cute and funny. Conversation flowed easily, and we clicked. This has always been a really rare find for me in dating. One day, he was at my apartment, and we started kissing. Things got a little bit hot, which I was uncomfortable with, especially with how early I felt it was in our courtship. I was 23 or 24, and I hadn’t learned yet how to confidently stand my ground and draw boundaries.

While maybe the concept of “no” existed in my head and in my ideals, I didn’t know how to navigate a situation where I liked a guy, but was uncomfortable with what was happening. I didn’t want him to feel rejected. I wanted him to like me; I didn’t want to be rejected.

A more experienced and more confident woman can look at this in hindsight and say something like, “If he would’ve no longer been interested after you said no, then that’s not the kind of guy you want to date anyway.”

A more experienced and more confident woman can look at this in hindsight and know that the best thing to say would’ve been, “I like you, but I don’t want to do this right now,” or “I’m not comfortable with this.”

But there is a voice deep inside of me that still exists, even at the more experienced, more confident age of 32, that doesn’t feel it is OK to say “no.” In fact, it’s a really uncomfortable feeling. What should be simple feels really difficult. Saying, “No,” or “I don’t want to,” or “I can’t,” makes me feel emotional, unsettled, and apologetic. It feels like something I’m not supposed to say—not allowed to say. It’s not what good girls do.

Because this voice deep inside of me couldn’t at the time tell this guy, “No,” he put my hand in places I didn’t want my hand to be. I walked away several times. I actually got up and left the room. He’d just follow me from room to room. He was incredibly aggressive, looking back at it. My leaving the room wasn’t me playing games or playing hard to get. It was me being unable to vocalize my “no,” and trying to demonstrate it instead. He apparently didn’t understand.

I think it finally got to a point where I put a stop to it, though I don’t remember how or what I said. It was later that this guy told me he had a “sex addiction.” I don’t know if that’s a thing; I’ve heard of porn addictions and whatnot, but regardless, this would’ve been helpful knowledge before the fact.

When I talked to my bishop about this experience, where I had gotten into a situation that was uncomfortable and inappropriate, but that it felt very forceful and aggressive, he responded with, “Well we need to take care of these things. We don’t want anyone thinking that you’re easy.”

I had told my bishop that I tried to walk away. I told him I tried to stop. I told him I didn’t want to do what the guy wanted to do. But he blamed the situation on me giving the impression that I am, “easy.”

And there we have it.

A polite, good girl can’t say “no” to a man.

But if things are done against your will, it’s because of you.

It’s because you’re “easy.”

Or it’s because of how you dress.

Or because of xyz other reasons women’s existence is wrong.

It’s because of everything except that men need to be accountable for their actions, and that women need to be taught from a young age how to assert themselves.

Why am I writing about this? I’ve dealt with this already. I mean, I thought I had already worked through this situation and accepted what happened.

I’m writing about this because I’m seeing how this extreme example of this societal expectation has translated to every area of my life, and that even the smallest things trigger me because of it.

I’ve been whistled at and cat called and muttered at and described disrespectfully more times than I can even count. And I don’t pay enough mind to any of these situations to remember specifics. But there was one situation earlier this year, coming out of Starbucks, when a man looked at me with those eyes and said something like, “Helllloooo.”

Nothing wrong with a hello, right? Don’t be dramatic, right? Because that’s what women are? Dramatic?

You all know the difference in how a respectful “hello,” from a passerby sounds. It wasn’t like this. And it made me uncomfortable—legit gave me the heebies. And I was bothered about it the rest of the day.

What bothered me even more is that when he said it, I didn’t know how to react or what to say, so I just looked down and away as quickly as possible, averting my eyes from the shame of how he was looking at me. I was taking responsibility for his thoughts.

I posted to my Instagram about this incident, asking for feedback. Most of my female friends who have been approached in this manner have said they just “ignore” it. I’ve always done the same. My whole life I’ve done the same. That’s what polite girls do.

But if we ignore it, doesn’t that mean we’re tolerating it? Allowing it to continue? And so I asked for solutions. What can I say in these situations? I’m always so taken aback, so unexpectedly uncomfortable, that I have no idea what to say in the moment something like this happens.

And that’s when Kellie suggested, “That makes me uncomfortable.”

A simple response. One that, she said, was usually received well. Normally a man will apologize. And if it’s some other insane response, well, then I guess they have some other issues they need to deal with, and you can walk away.

Two situations have happened to me recently (within the last few weeks), in regard to homeless people, where I feel that this same idea of socially acceptable feminine behavior applies.

I keep a lot of granola bars at work—a Costco sized box. Plus some RX Bars and NutriGrain bars. If I’m taking a mid-morning walk down to Starbucks on Main, where most of the homeless folks hang out, I usually take a big handful of bars with me. Most of the time, they don’t approach me or say anything. Sometimes, when I’m feeling especially vulnerable, they do. And sometimes, when I’m feeling especially brave, I offer them food and a smile before they even ask.

One morning, though, I got to work early. I decided to pass some time at Starbucks before going into work. My plan was to order via the app, and read quietly. As I approached the door, an old, white-bearded man walked up to me and asked in a friendly way, “Would you be able to help an old man get a cup of coffee?”

Let me be clear and up front: No, I didn’t want to help him with a cup of coffee.

Once again, I’m opening myself up to judgment from whoever reads this. But I’m not Mother Teresa, and I am not trying to be. Sure, I am trying to be like Jesus, and I understand that the homeless are people too. I get that.

But I also feel justified in drawing boundaries. I have a set budget, which happens to be pretty tight right now. And aside from tithing and fast offerings, which I pay faithfully, I don’t budget for street charity. Harsh? Maybe so. But I have granola bars to give out because that is something I feel safe and comfortable doing. That is my boundary. No money, no purchasing food, only giving what I have set aside for them.

But, that little panicky voice deep inside me started to rise up. The voice that says, “Janae, he’s just an old man, asking for coffee. You can afford coffee. You’re getting yourself one. Don’t say no. You’ll be mean if you say no.” Be a good girl. 

The voice won. I said “fine,” and begrudgingly bought the guy a cup of Pike’s roast.

And then the fire from my experience with that guy I dated was fanned within me. This fierce rage was bubbling up, and I felt hot with frustration. All he asked for was a cup of coffee, and all I felt was anger because I had consented to something I didn’t want to. I did not enjoy my quiet reading time. Instead I spent the next several hours processing it and being frustrated with myself that I didn’t have a good enough response prepared.

“That makes me uncomfortable,” wasn’t going to work in this scenario.

“I don’t have cash,” wouldn’t have worked either. He wasn’t asking for cash.

“I have to get back to work,” wouldn’t have worked because then I would’ve had to go into work before I wanted to, and he would’ve won that battle in a different way.

I still don’t have a response for this situation. I just plain old DIDN’T WANT TO BUY A COFFEE FOR THIS STRANGER. Period.

And yet the guilt of saying no was what won. I had to "be a good girl."

I left for errands during my work day today. Before leaving my desk, I thought, “Maybe I should bring some granola bars?” Then I decided, “No, don’t bother.” Sure enough, one man (who had declined my granola bars months ago) asked, “Miss, would you be able to help out my Polynesian friend and I with a meal?” I told him that I had no cash on me and kept walking. Thankfully, he left it at that. You know how much guilt I felt about that? Zero. Zero guilt. He had declined granola bars in the past, which to me indicated that he wasn’t really that hungry. Oh, I remember you, granola bar snob. I remember you.

But when I was close to my office (the minutes of my clock out ticking by), Harmon’s bag in hand, full of Greek yogurt and Village Baker chocolate cake (yay Aunt Flo), another man approached me. He was young and had an oversized hoodie on, shaggy light brown hair, and a dirty face. He asked if I could help him out. My canned response, “I don’t have any cash,” didn’t work.

His shoulders slumped. His head cocked sideways. His face pleading: “You don’t have a couple minutes you can just buy me some food at Walgreens?”

“Ugh,” I said out loud, my hands dropping.

The voice won again. “Fine,” I barked. “I am supposed to be back at work right now, but whatever,” I told him, in the most annoyed tone of voice I could muster. I was not kind. Not kind at all.

I hurried down to Walgreens, and he stayed about ten feet behind me. I waited by the register for him, and he walked up with a king size Twix bar and a Hostess something or other. Sugar. Drug addict food. I paid the $4.41 for his wasted calories. He smiled and said thank you, and told me to have a good day at work.

“Thanks,” I said, not looking back at him as I rushed out the door, sweating with aggravation.

Can I ask? Who did this situation help? It didn’t help him, because he will be hungry in an hour after eating that junk. It didn’t help me, because I’m sitting here two hours later having a “what it means to be a woman” crisis.

Being charitable does no good if your heart isn’t in it. I helped both of these men begrudgingly. Out of guilt. Out of some social responsibility to "not be mean," to "be a good girl," And I felt angry and taken advantage of after both circumstances.

What should I have said in response to his pleading look and desperate question?

“I am on the clock and have to get back to work. Good luck!” or

“St. Vincent DePaul on 200 south has lunch right now.”

Anything besides, “Ugh, fine.”

I’m bothered because I know these men probably don’t approach men for help the way they approach women for help. (I have no facts or statistics to support this. It’s just a suspicion coming from my gut, which is usually right. I dare you to do a study on this and prove me wrong.)

I’m bothered because they know how to sucker me and probably other women.

I’m bothered because I feel like I have to lie in order to tell people no and keep my boundaries. I don’t like lying, or saying no.

I’m bothered because I want to help them, but not in the way they’re asking for.

I’m bothered because I’m terrible at responding on the spot or in a pinch.

I’m bothered because they feel perfectly comfortable asking, and I feel completely uncomfortable saying no. They have the right to ask, and I have the right to say no.

I’m bothered because more than once in my life I’ve done things I didn’t want to do or wasn’t comfortable with because I have a hard time saying, “No.” Because that’s not what good, nice girls do.

I’m bothered because I feel for people and don’t want them to suffer, but I also don’t want to be taken advantage of or have my emotions worked over.

I’m bothered because I have to desensitize myself to their suffering to not be an emotional wreck.

I’m bothered because I haven’t set appropriate boundaries in my life and am suffering the consequences now.

So, here they are, my proclamations and boundaries: 

• I do not give money to homeless people.
• I do not take out my debit card on behalf of a homeless person.
• I respond with kindness and simplicity when I say no to homeless people: “I can’t help you today, but I wish you well,” or “Not today. But have you visited St. Vincent DePaul’s kitchen?” or maybe just, “Not today.”
• I am allowed to say, “No,” to something I am uncomfortable with doing, without feeling guilt, in whatever situation.
• I do not have to justify to anyone why I am uncomfortable, or explain why my answer is no.
• I will not take it personally if anyone responds with anger, rejection, or unkindness when I say “no.”
• I am allowed to say, “Let me think about it,” if I’m not prepared with a response I feel good about.
• I respond with, “That makes me uncomfortable,” to any unwelcome looks, gestures, or comments.
• When I say yes, it’s because I want to.

That small voice that has dictated my answers my whole life? That small voice will no longer rule my life.

The fire in me is what will answer now. I will confidently take ownership of my responses, and not fall victim to self-pity and frustration when I do say yes.

This life is mine. The polite, soft spoken, accommodating little girl in me isn’t in charge anymore.

And my daughter(s), if I’m blessed to have any, will know that they can and should say no to anything and everything that they feel uncomfortable with. They will not feel the weight and discomfort that I feel. We will run through example responses for a variety of situations. I will raise strong, kind women, unafraid to offend, unable to be silent, and unwilling to compromise.

I will raise phenomenal women.