Feeling inferior to men is something I have had to deal with my entire life. Whether it’s about going out, walking home alone, or being confident, it’s a feeling of indifference that I never thought I would have.

About eleven months ago when I was with my long term boyfriend, Kyle, I had confided in him about being sexually assaulted once by someone I was involved with before. He listened to my story and then asked me what I did to provoke him. While I tried to hold back tears, he tried to hold back laughter. Kyle made me feel like it was my fault, and that I was asking for it.

I have felt embarrassed ever since and cannot love again because of him.

A couple of days ago, I was sitting on my front lawn with my best friend, Sydney. We saw a man on a motorcycle and Sydney politely waved. He drove up to us in my yard to ask us how old we were, and we replied with sixteen. Sydney asked how old he was and he said, coldly, “Too old for you” and drove off. Us being underaged, however, did not stop him from coming back a few minutes later. The man introduced himself as Dan. He said he was nineteen, and asked for my phone number. I made up the excuse that my phone was about to die so instead Dan gave me his number. He shook my hand and took off once again.

While at the time it seemed innocent and humorous, a feeling of fear washed over me instantly after. If this man is an adult and has the knowledge of us being minors, why would he come back? What did he want from me? Dan now knows where I live, and the safety of my family burns a recurring thought in my head. Dramatic as it may sound, these are the questions women have to think about on a daily basis whereas men don’t have to.

I live close to the high school, so I walk home daily. Most of the time I put headphones in and blast some music until it hurts my eardrums. I can tune out everything, even the senior boy that drives the silver Toyota Corolla who yells “Lemme get a piece of that” out his window whenever he slows down by me on the sidewalk. I tell my friend Andrew about it all the time and he usually just says that I should feel flattered, or that I should be proud of what I have.

I just smile, nod my head, and try to ignore the little voice in my head that tells me that my feeling of disgust is valid.

Men make jokes about women like it’s nothing, and we ignore them. For years women have tried to bring awareness to our struggles, but in reality:

We are the white noise.