Cat calling used to be par for the course when, as young female university students, we walked to campus past construction sites in the 60s and 70s. It was also common on the street where groups of teenage males hung out. In my mind, those remarks had nothing to do with our attractiveness--heck, half the time we were bundled up in winter gear! Traveling without a male companion in certain countries as a young woman also meant suffering through episodes of pinching and grabbing in crowded, public places. It was instructive watching how older women dealt with that harassment by spatting out a few words while slapping the offender's hand or face--aggression was met with aggression.
To me, as annoying and disgusting as that kind of cat calling was, it had nothing to do with ME because it was so obviously directed at any female who happened to be in that particular location at that moment. To those males, I was just another set of long hair, boobs, and a butt on legs and the remarks said more about the kind of person spewing that garbage than about me. I got used to handling that kind of obnoxious behaviour in the same way those Italian women did if the cat callers invaded my person space--looking disdainful, ignoring them, or even publicly slapping away an errant hand.
Sexual harassment, however, was another matter, especially when I encountered it my workplace. That I felt WAS directed at me. As others have said, it was about some male trying to wield power by forcing me into a stereotyped image of what he thought my role ought to be. That perception got skewed when I refused to accept those "compliments". Most of my male colleagues quickly caught on to where the boundaries were drawn. If they mentioned my appearance, it was more along the "nice tie" kind of joking that occurs between friends. I tried very hard never to blur the lines between me and my male colleagues in my work environments.
But I do enjoy male attention, compliments, and side glances when the situation is right and when the intent is to attract me instead of repel me. A homeless man, sitting on the street, put a smile on my face a few days ago when he looked up, smiled, and called out "Nice boots!" as I walked by. He got a smile and a dollar in his jar as I wished him a nice day in return. The transaction pleased both of us. That encounter reminded me so much of the "sei bella!" compliment young women would often get in Rome. The speakers were often older gentlemen who would look at you directly, kiss their fingertips, and deliver the compliment with a smile. Getting one of those thrown my way would always put an extra spring in my step. In my mind, the key to this kind of "cat calling" is the positive intent and the recognition of both parties' uniqueness in that moment--a momentary kind of flirtation between men and women which is fun and lighthearted. But maybe, in this era of sexual politics, this kind of flirtation isn't possible anymore? Too bad, because, done in the right spirit, it can be empowering to both parties.