Have you been pestered by a Harvey Weinstein, your boss, landlord, guys at the local tire shop? Wolf whistles and chants of 'Yum,' as you walk into a gas station to use the bathroom?

Pestering, the outdated adjective describing being sexually pursued in an unwelcome manner. We now call it what it is: abuse, harassment, bullying.

The day after we elected the groper, the predator in chief, I was at the Y doing laps around the track. A guy whom I had seen around town stepped up to walk with me. He started a conversation about how fit I was. 

Uhmmmm, I thought, this is making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. 

He'd been walking with me for about one lap when he reached down quickly and grabbed my rear end, saying, “I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

Shocked and unnerved, I excused myself and left quickly, feeling embarrassed, like I had somehow brought this on. It was months later when I told someone who works at the Y what had happened.  

I handled the situation poorly and have reflected on why.

Has that happened to you? Hair standing up on the back of your neck when you realize the conversation, the once-over glance, is a little too long-lasting, provocative or suggestive? 

Then you speed through the neural pathways of your nimble female brain deciding how not to embarrass this oaf by gracefully squirming away from whatever he’s got in mind. 

Still, you’re a bitch, or your pants were too tight, your smile too inviting; whatever, it’s everywhere and always has been. Begs the question, have we finally had enough of this?

We have blamed each other and ourselves, been afraid to come forward and have generally accepted this substandard treatment as part of the female condition, like menstruation. A nuisance. But it’s so much more. 

It’s more than a nuisance when it threatens your employment, or when you don’t feel safe in your own home because of unrequited overtures from the landlord. Will he kick us out if I don’t? 

There are a myriad of situations you could cite. One essential ingredient is this: One person feels a right, justification, or an urge to cross boundaries and subordinate the other. 

We define 'problem anxiety' as anything that interferes with our daily life.

How would you define this?  

If I have to rent a place to live, I want to know I’m safe and not beholden to the landlord for anything more than rent money and good stewardship. I like to go to the Y and not be groped. These are everyday worries and situations that are not uncommon for women to encounter.

This cultural representation of gender in this country has presented an image of what it means to be a man that has been largely based on objectifying and exploiting women. 

Think of the World War II pin-ups, or Hugh Hefner. It’s not your fault. 

But we’re so over it guys.

We have some dinosaurs out there who still think it’s 1963.

It’s not, and that women you groped at the Y this morning could be your neurosurgeon that detangles your corrupt neurons. 

She could be the pilot on your next transatlantic flight, a competent, agile thinker ready for any emergency. Don’t distract her with your antiquated antics. 

Although I am not an actress and the landlord wasn’t Harvey Weinstein, I was a single mother in a vulnerable position and the landlord exploited the situation.  

This behavior is pervasive in our workplaces and in our communities. None of us should have to feel like a deer in November when you want to spend time at the local Y or need to rent somewhere to live or use a bathroom at a gas station.  

This is not representative of all men; however, it does show you in a rather poor light, don’t you think? 

If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.

Speak up next time you’re with someone that speaks degradingly regarding anyone, not just women. 

But since it is women we are talking about in this essay, we need men to come forward and call out this atrocious plantation mentality. I will appropriate that phrase beyond racial lines and include gender, and anyone else that feels subordinated.

This stops now. 

Me, too.

Bridget Conway lives in Camden.