Your catcall validates me as a woman, thank you.

There are some things I don´t entirely understand - like particle physics, the conflict in Syria, or why some people dislike cookie dough. Then there are the things I couldn´t possibly begin to understand - like why men whistle and catcall at women.

Peru is by no means the worst offender in this category - in some countries at least half of the men are guilty of it - but Peru still has its fair share of perpetrators. My walk to and from school each day, my runs along the Pan-American highway or through town, and, really, any venture outside my house are punctuated by the annoying call of "Hoooollllaaaaa, que bonita." and "Hello. I love you." And then there´s that whistle. Oh that whistle - those two sliding tones that haunt my dreams. Perfecting that whistle must indicate a boy´s passage to manhood.

Besides being really obnoxious and making my skin crawl a bit, the main problem is that I fundamentally do not understand these men, their motives, or their intentions.

First, do you really expect me to respond? Here I was, walking down the street and looking for some eye candy. I originally didn´t find you too attractive but, hey, now that you´ve indicated your attraction to me... hello handsome. The best thing is just to ignore them (which occasionally makes them try even harder to get my attention) because even looking at them and indicating my disgust is better to them than no reaction at all. The whole "negative attention is better than no attention" thing makes sense... if you´re on the playground in 4th grade.

Second, why do you have such horrible taste in women? It doesn´t matter what I wear or even whether I´ve bathed in the past 48 hours, you still whistle. If you´re going to waste time whistling, at least do it at the voluptuous Peruvian teenagers with a fondness for leggings and see-through shirts. Oh wait, you do waste time on them. That´s disgusting - they´re children. Poor girls, we all went through a high-school-slut era, but we did it for the adorably awkward boys at school, not for creepy middle-age men.

Third, why me? You may whistle at Peruvians girls too, but there is a terrific imbalance in the distribution of whistles. Therefore, it must be my whiteness, and not my femininity, that draws your attention. Do I scream gringa that obviously? I picked a foreign country where the majority of people are short and have dark hair - I really can´t do better than that. So I´ve got height and hair color going for me, I don`t wear flashy clothes, and I certainly dress more modestly than local girls my age. Which leads me back again to the conclusion that it must be my whiteness. So, one giant, pale-skinned strike against me.

However, I still marvel at some of these men´s ability to tell I am white and a female from a great distance. Sometimes, I´m wearing baggy sweatpants and a sweatshirt; there´s hardly a chance I look like a girl. But, 50 yards away, some guy sitting in the shadowy depths of his automotive shop still (apparently) smells the estrogen and can´t fight his primal instinct to whistle.

Fourth, your choice of language is far from endearing. "Hola muchacha, hello, hi, how are you." Woo me with poetry, dammit, not phrases from Sesame Street. The other day a drunk guy started calling out, "Prima, Primita..." ("Cousin, Little Cousin...") to me. I don´t know about you, but my go-to flirting language doesn´t reference my blood-relations. Honestly, you should all take a page out of my seven-year-old student´s book and ask me if I´m Brazilian. Innocence and unintentional flattery.

Fifth, you have no deterrent to whistling which means you lack the basic function to asses risk and evaluate consequences. I´ve been with my dad, my parents, my male friends, and a big group of girls and guys and none of it deters the whistlers. My dad and my male friends are not overly terrifying but they could beat up the majority of you for looking at me that way. Actually, I could beat up the majority of you for looking at me that way. The other day I was walking down the streets with one of the nuns from my school, A NUN FOR GOODNESS SAKE, and, still, the lingering men on the streets just couldn´t help themselves. Hermana Maria Ines is a good-looking 70-something year old woman, but she´s married to God, folks. Is His wrath no deterrent for your lust?

In conclusion, I don´t understand you guys and I don´t think I ever will. I don´t know where or how you grew up, or who taught and influenced you, but I do see the way you act around your young sons, and it´s lamentable. Impressionable young men who will grow up thinking that this kind of behavior is not only acceptable, but encouraged. That women can be objectified and will do nothing about it. Knowing that´s the environment for some young boys and girls pains me more than anything.

While my anger occasionally flares into an imagined episode of violence, I swear I´ve never actually punched any of them. Usually I just feel sad that the actions of a tiny population of Peruvian men has made me overly skittish and suspicious of a great majority of people.

Mostly, however, I want to drag these creeps to a Women and Gender Studies Class and try to knock the sexism out of them. Or I want to drag them home to an audience of their mothers and grandmothers and sisters and wives and daughters. There is certainly some woman in their life they love and respect who can convince them to treat all women better. Or I want to drag them to a panel of successful and powerful women and show them that women are capable of being so much more than your eye candy.

Yes, that would work. I´m sure Hillary Clinton could make them see the error of their ways. And, no, Hillary and Clinton aren´t the names of my fists.