When the stares stop: noticing the quiet shift in womanhood

When the attention quietly stops

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how early women start receiving attention from men, and how surprisingly early that attention disappears.

This thought hit me on a walk around my neighborhood. I have a four-month-old baby, so we’re out a lot, looping past construction sites and landscapers working on nearby houses. And one day it hit me: I don’t get stared at anymore. No lingering looks. No catcalls. No familiar feeling of holding your breath and looking down as you pass a group of men.

And honestly? It felt strange.

The feeling you learn young

Because if you’re a woman, you know exactly what I mean. Ten or twenty years ago, when I was 15 or 25, walking past a construction site came with a very specific awareness. You felt eyes on you. You braced yourself. It was unwanted and uncomfortable.

Every woman carries a memory bank of early, unwanted experiences. Mine include a tour guide tickling me while my parents weren’t looking. I was twelve. Having my butt grabbed at a punk concert when I was fourteen, and of course, countless trucks honking. Why is it always a truck?

Noticing what’s changed

Now I’m 35, and that experience has completely disappeared.

So naturally, I tried to figure out why.

Maybe it’s solely age. Maybe I’ve simply aged out of what men consider “young” or “desirable.” That’s a weird sentence to write, but it’s probably true. Maybe it’s how I look. I don’t dye or highlight my hair anymore. I live in baggy T-shirts and running shorts instead of shorter, tighter clothes.

Or maybe it’s cultural. We’re living in a post-MeToo world, and maybe, hopefully, men are more aware that catcalling and overt staring aren’t okay.

I genuinely don’t know which one it is. Probably some combination of all three. But noticing the absence of attention sent me right back to the beginning.

When it all begins too early

For me, that was around 14 or 15. I was actually a late bloomer, skinny, scrawny, no curves for a long time. And even then, I remember the feeling of being watched. I think about girls who developed earlier, the ones who had breasts at 11 or 12. I went to middle school with a girl named Lindsey who looked fully grown by sixth grade. I can’t imagine how confusing and uncomfortable that must have been, having adult men look at you when you’re still very much a child.

We sexualize girls so young. And not long after, we quietly stop noticing women at all.

The other side of invisibility

Because here’s the other side of it: while we don’t want unwanted attention, we also don’t want to feel invisible. I hear women in their 50s and beyond talk about becoming completely unseen. And at 35, I feel like I’m getting a small preview of that shift.

I don’t have a big takeaway here. It’s just something I noticed, something that made me pause. How strange that attention arrives before we’re ready, and leaves before we expect it to.

I’d honestly love to know if you’ve felt this too. Did you notice a moment when the attention changed or faded? For me, it’s definitely happening now. Even when I’m walking alone, without my baby, the experience is the same.