A friend of mine was walking down 60th Street when she heard someone behind her yelling, “Hey, skirt! Hey, you! Skirt!”
She whirled around, only to find that the offenders were two boys who couldn’t have been older than 12. Instead of ignoring them, she stopped and waited for them to catch up. They seemed surprised to see her stop and approached cautiously.
“I’m not a skirt,” she said, looking at them sternly. “I’m a person just like you.”
Then she continued on her way, but not before overhearing their initial response, in hushed tones.
“What’d she say?”
“She said she’s not a skirt, she’s a person just like us.”
“Man.” A pause. “That’s embarrassing.”