The woman is present

Recently I read about a crowdfunding campaign launched by The Foundling Museum in London. It is held to collect money for a feminist exhibition at the museum in 2019. The exhibition "The Ladies of Quality and Distinction" will be dedicated to 21 noble women who, in 1735, supported Thomas Coram, the founder of the Foundling hospital. They signed a petition that helped to establish the institution after Coram got rejected by some distinguished noblemen of London.
More information about the campaign and the story behind the exhibition can be found here:
https://www.theartnewspaper.com/news/london-museum-to-rehang-300-year-old-collection-of-male-portraits-with-paintings-of-women

I honestly think that this is amazing! I am deeply impressed by the curators of the exhibition, who worked for a whole year just to trace and collect pieces for this exhibition. Also, I get goose bumps whilst thinking of the symbolism of an empty picture frame, that the curators will hang up instead of the one portrait they couldn't find.
But (yes, there is always that "but") there is one thing that I had done differently if I were curating this exhibition (oh, a dreamer...). The curators proposed to remove the male portraits from the main picture gallery of the museum and replace them by the portraits of these 21 women. Which makes total sense. You want to make a statement - you have to be heard. In the campaign's video they even say, that the men's portraits will be tacked away in a storage room or something like that.
Now, I really don't care much about these guys. But in my opinion, what would really make a strong statement, is if the women's portraits and documents would be exhibited in the same room with all these noble men. Small or lost as they are, not painted by William Hogarth or Joshua Reynolds, but exactly there, in all and the same room with the men. Move the men to make room for the women but don't remove them from the room.
How would it look like if we think of portraits as living people? Ladies walk into the room and men leave, so they can do their "womanly business" in private. The room becomes "the women's room" and not in a nice-Virginia-Woolf meaning, but as something diminishing, unserious, that segregates women once again. From the place and from the history. Are we afraid that the women won't be able to stand out in comparison?
300 years later, let these women stand right next to the men and finally receive justice and respect they and so many other women in history deserve.
Step by step, and, hey, don't let those guys leave the room, they have to see it! 

Where do we draw a line?

When "metoo" compain started, I reposted it on my FB page. I had a second thought - "does my experience really matter? After all, it wasn't that horrible..." - which actually became the main trigger to write my own comment on this matter. As well as a wish to show an example for women in my country who may think even less of even bigger experiences, thinking they don't matter that much.
Because, sadly enough, even all those small experiences I had influenced part of my life that may have been different. I stop myself again and again, trying to minimise the impact. Like, it was about not wearing certain type of clothes, not coming home too late, be aware of how much I drink. That does not sound too bad? Well, I didn't escape anyway.

Of course it stired a lot of thoughs that keep on running on my mind. Trying to keep my head clear and cool is hard and my natural kind will to see both sides of an issue often fails to draw a line.
I walked in a park few weeks ago, when the weather was beautifully crisp, with the fresh snow on the ground, and I managed to be prodactive with my writing. In the middle of the day, there were enough people. Some running, some walking. I was walking with my headphones on when two middle-age men came running towards me and I could see one of them looking at me for awhile and then saying laughingly "Are you freezing?" (I was packed in winter jacket, hat and mittens). I kept on walking and they continued running in the opposite direction. I didn't react, pretending my headphones stopped me from hearing him. And yet, I had that nugging feeling inside of me - why did he address me? I am walking here, like everybody else. Why do you have to single me out? And more - why did it leave me feeling uncomfortable?
When I told the story to my friend he said that the man just wanted to be nice. It is like saying "hello". By why did I feel different?
Few days later, in a swimming pool, I was waiting to go into the water but there were few older men talking at the stairs, one of them on his way out. It was me an another woman waiting. He first wanted to let us use the stairs but the woman told him that he can get out, it's ok. It took him awhile, he was not too old but obviously had some troubles getting out. When he finally did, I let the woman go first and the man started talking to me. He said that he swam three km and after that it's hard to get back on the ground. I smiled and said that it's undestandable. Then I went into the water. And I didn't feel anything bad. I was standing next to a half naked older man, who wanted to excuse his slowness by telling me how many km he swam, maybe because he found it emberassing trying to get out in front of a young woman and being slow, maybe because he wanted to brag. But the fact is - I didn't feel bad about that situation and that talk.
What was it? His obvious human valnarability that made me feel like this situation is not thretening, in comparison to a younger sporty man in the park? Was it my mood and my general withdrawel from environment which usually accures when I am going swimming? Was it presence of another older woman next to me?

Where do you place your feeling in everyday life if you want to stay critical? Where do you draw the line between - violation and normality?