SOAPBOX: Whistling Won’t Work


Have you ever been walking through the mall or even across campus, minding your own business, when suddenly, you hear a little whistle or a kissing noise directed at you? Well then, you’re not alone.

It’s been going on since men figured out that if they purse their lips and huff out some air, theymake a little whistle. And it appears that men these days have retreated to their caveman heritage and forgotten how to give a compliment.

If there’s one thing that really offends me, it’s being whistled at. I don’t care if I’m wearing leggings or a skirt or a nice pair of jeans, don’t whistle at me. I am not a dog. I do not answer to you blowing air through your lips. If you have something to say about my choice of clothing for the day, by all means, any girl would love a nice sentiment.

Merriam-Webster defines a compliment as, “A remark that says something good about someone or something.” Key word there, guys, says. It requires you to actually open your mouth and form words. That’s what the left side of your brain is for. Say something. Don’t just pucker up and whistle—that only counts for summoning your canine companion, and sometimes that doesn’t even work like you want it to.

As I left the mall over the weekend, I followed a group of guys out of the door, but they didn’t say anything to me. I followed them through the parking lot (as I had forgotten where I parked), and as I maneuvered my way around them, I started hearing whistles and little kissing noises.

I made the mistake of turning around and making eye contact with the so-called whistle-maker. He gave me “the nod,” and whistled again. Seriously, dude? And the worst part: all of his friends were totally for it. Maybe it’s stupidity through osmosis.

I may or may not have flipped them off as I drove past them.

I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that cavemen gave their cavewomen compliments by grunting and pointing or by giving them rocks or something.

Even in our good old U.S. of A., colonial men used to bow or even cover mud puddles for dressed-up women. And I’m not saying I expect any special treatment, but come on, treat me like a lady, not a four-legged companion.

Ladies, we are not pieces of meat. We are human beings with every right to stand up for ourselves. And gentlemen, figure it out, please. Use your words, and act like 21st century men, not a  Neanderthal. Have some respect.

Whistling might get you a date, but more likely you’ll end up  a lonely loser.


Courtney Williams is a senior journalism major from Centennial, Colo.