By MARK GREENE
I live in New York City where, when I walk down the street, I see literally thousands of women a month walking towards and past me. Women of all ages, shapes and sizes. The range of interactions has some variability, but 95% of the time, it works like this:
Many of the women I glance at are intentionally not looking at me. They are avoiding all eye contact, seemingly staring into some specific spot on the street that does not contain a man’s eyes. If they glance and notice I’m looking at them, they look away very quickly. What I see in that moment is someone being careful. Very very careful.
I glance at women. I don’t look at them for more than a second or two. I never stare at them. I glance at them because they are lovely, or interesting, or fashionable, or simply in my path. I also glance at them for the same reasons I glance at men: to judge their intention as they approach me, to see if they’re texting instead of looking, or to insure I don’t get run over.
Because I have a solid sense of who I am and what my intention is, I glance at women without the feeling of guilt or nervousness I carried as a teenager. There is nothing wrong with a glance. But to look longer at a woman you do not know? Or worse, to stare? That is a different thing. For the very same reason I do not make and hold eye contact with men (or for that matter, dogs I don’t know) I do not look overly long at women, because it suggests an intrusion. Something for which I do not have permission.