Ever since the warmer weather has wrapped Santiago in glorious sunshine and occasionally oppressive heat (read: any time I’m on the metro), I have dared to reveal my arms (gasp) and shins (double gasp) to the general public. I know, it’s scandalous.

I make light of a situation that I’m beginning to find anything but. Ever since I moved to Chile, I’ve tried to maintain a tone of curiosity, limit complaints (apart from some initial culture shock and the occasional vented frustration at two-hour lines at the bank), and all in all use a positive perspective to compare and contrast my two homes. It’s what we humans do when we are fish out of water. We look around and say, “Well, hey, isn’t that interesting.”

Well, I’ve been speaking up for women lately. Recently, I had the opportunity to do so when a middle-aged man from the States decided to perpetuate sexism with incredibly tasteless pieces he published that objectify women, generalize the male POV, and make gross stereotypes across not one, but multiple races and cultures. He had the good sense to remove one of the articles in question when I voiced my opinion and explained that I could not associate my byline with or promote such content. However, he soon reposted it and sent me an unsolicited defense and asked why couldn’t we just agree to disagree and still suggested I spread the word about his project.

Really?

See, he thinks I’m upset because I’m a newlywed and he is divorced and admits to being bitter about the construct of marriage. The fact that he believes my marital status has anything to do with my ire in the face of blatant sexism and racism only further proves his ignorance around the way he represents gender. While he claims the piece has resonated with male readers, I’m not alone in my offense. My husband is offended. My co-ed writing group is offended. My 22-year-old friends are offended. My mother is offended.

Because we try to learn form these mishaps in judgment, I’m focusing on the valuable lesson I can take away. I’ve had such a positive experience with the many expats I’ve come across in Chile, I brought that same level of trust to this potential professional relationship. I sent information about my work history that I’d include in any cover letter. I assumed he had authority because he posted a “literary journal” to WordPress. I could do that. Anyone could do that. I trusted someone based on perceived literary merit. He read my blog and we arranged a meeting and exchanged cell phone numbers. It’s only on the flip side that I realized I don’t owe this level of trust to anybody, potential employers included. For a few moments, it even made me want to disappear from the Internet, to take down all my photos and status updates and personal narratives. Why should anyone know about me to this level? Why should I know about others?

It’s not lost on me that I turn to the Internet to share this story. Our lives also reveal synchronicity. My gender justice outcry happened to occur in time with the November 29 and 30 podcasts of the most meritorious NPR’s Fresh Air. These interviews prove just what levels of publicized information our new world has the potential to meet. For instance, within 30 years, we’ll likely access the Internet via our contact lenses. That’s right, we’ll be able to just look someone in the eye and–thanks to the massive quantities of the planet that are under constant recorded surveillance as well as the face recognition software Facebook and no doubt others are using (and could easily take advantage of)–we might be able to pull up their names, social networks, contact information, etc. All with little more than a wayward glance. The male physicist being interviewed couldn’t have been more excited about contact lens Internet hookup. I, on the other hand, am horrified. As a female, I already anticipate privacy violations and resulting vulnerability. I do not think this is as often the first thought of men.

Part of the horror, part of the reason I was so ready to speak up is that I’ve spent a couple of months now having to deal with the blatant oggling and catcalling of Chilean men. Perhaps you will think me no better to call out a culture and a gender in this way, and you would be absolutely right. But I’m not used to this kind of outright imposition, even when you’re wearing a wedding ring or pushing a baby stroller. It doesn’t seem to matter that you are someone’s wife or mother or daughter or sister. The message is the same: They have a right to stare. Most of the time, I stare too, straight ahead, down the street. But in my more desperate moments, I stare right back, throw my arms up in the air or pop my shoulders or otherwise, like an animal, try to appear bigger and stronger in my own defense. Last night, I shared my frustration with six other women living in Chile who offered similar stories and worse. They taught me how to talk back in Spanish.

Now, just imagine if these stares pulled up our personal information.

We live abroad to see the shape of our world and learn about its cultures. I moved here. I imposed myself here. I don’t expect a culture to change for my comfort level. I also realize that gender inequality announces itself in far more horrifying ways for women around the world every day.

But I don’t have to keep quiet.

I am grateful for organizations like MissRepresentation.org, “a call-to-action campaign that seeks to empower women and girls to challenge limiting labels in order to realize their potential.” The organization and its projects are “uniting individuals around a common, meaningful goal to spark millions of small actions that ultimately lead to a cross-generational movement to eradicate gender stereotypes and create a lasting cultural and sociological change.”

Precisely.

Last year, I had the opportunity to interview Jennifer Siebel Newsom, the organization’s founder and director of the documentary of the same name. At the time, she was putting the finishing touches on the film, raising a daughter, and commenting on shocking contemporary statistics pertaining to objectification, sexual violence, and overall gender inequality. I knew the film and its message would make an impact, but I’m thrilled at just what a powerful impact it’s made, at its fast following, at hearing women across generations promoting it, at seeing my family members in the States and friends in Chile comment on it.

My small change this week was to stand up for myself and my gender in the face of a sexist representation of women and culture. To decide to say “no” to a professional opportunity because it offended my value system. To refuse to be silent or agree to disagree. To hopefully have made someone more aware than he once was. I will have no evidence of this. The article and its perpetuation of inequality remain. But the small change was also enacted in me. I’ll speak up the next time because I did so this time.

I hope you will, too.