Non-profit clothing company Feminist Apparel has posted around 50 signs in Brooklyn and Manhattan alerting passersby that they have officially entered "No Catcall Zones." The signs feature the silhouette of a cat that appears to be shooting lasers from its eyes at dancing stick figures, OR, the dancing stick figures are actually the louche, crotch-grabbing catcallers, and you are the cat. The lasers remain unexplained. "End Street Harassment," reads the text at the bottom.
This is novel and all, but somewhat akin to the signs announcing that restaurant workers are required to wash their hands after using the bathroom. Rather than celebrating the presence of the sign, shouldn't we first wonder WHY WE NEED A SIGN?
After the "wonderment phase" phase passes (10 to 25 seconds), we enter the "dark realization phase": If there is no sign, is catcalling permitted? If I pee all over my hands but no sign instructs me to wash them, may I simply return to the kitchen to continue making duck cassoulet?
There are only two rules here: Don't catcall. And wash your hands. Thank you.
(h/t Brokelyn)
