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So, I was walking from the bank near the corner of 4th and King, running morning errands and minding my own business. The pedestrian light starts turning red, and so, I make a run for it. Suddenly I hear, “Where you running to, beautiful?” Ugh. I snap pic 1 of him doing
his cruise walk. I pick up the pace, and my boyfriend calls through, yet this wanker won’t give up, as he keeps calling after me, asking, “Hey gorgeous, who you on the phone to?”
Suddenly I think: “Hollaback Moment!”
I hang up with my boyfriend, and when I look up, this guy is STANDING in front of me! I take a step back, hold my phone up and ask, “Can I take your picture?” He gets weird and starts mumbling about why I want to take his picture, but I say, in my sweetest voice, “I MUST take your picture, so I can remember you. You know?” He says his name is “Anie”(Thanks assclown!), and wants to see the pic. I take it (thanks again, assclown) and show him. He’s pleased with the way it looks.
But then, he won’t leave me alone. He follows me all the way back to my loft, offers me weed, cigarettes, and then says he wants to be my boyfriend(ugh!), and has now managed to get in the front door of my building, and won’t leave until I give him a hug.
I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to share this experience, and his pics Thanks Hollaback!
– Le Anne in San Francisco
So i’m at this bar Lolita (should have KNOWN better) at broome and allen streets in the lower east side. i go downstairs to find the bathroom and see three guys in line so i ask the guy closest to me if it’s a co-ed bathroom so i don’t waste my time waiting for the men’s room. He turns around, flashes a cool-aid smile and says “yeah, it’s moving pretty fast though baby”. i think to myself, okay nice happy guy. Of course i barely had that thought in my head for two minutes when he took the opportunity to destroy it. he turns around again and says “you can come in with me if you spread ‘em!!”. Before I could register the extremely high disgust factor of what he just said, he started going on and on about how good his “aim” was, which no matter how you slice it or even if you understand it, is beyond disturbing. BUT, I let him keep going just so i had time to reach for my phone and fumbled around in the dark for the camera option so i could take this asshole’s picture. Then i told him “no thanks, i’ll wait the extra few minutes” and I was about to snap him when he laughed and said “you’re not taking my picture are you….is this for one of thoooooose websites”. What I should have said was “what websites? one SUCH AS the amazing hollabacknyc.com where you can post up absolutely revolting comments that expose people like you, with your face to take the credit?” but instead I only got the back of his head when he was going into the bathroom. But considering what his face looked like, he’s lucky this is the shot going up.
As I’m walking down Broadway, the man on the left hisses “niccccccce.” I ignore him, when again I hear “niccccccccce.” I turn around to see if this old dude actually has the nerve to harass me. He lifts his cane, points it up and down my body, and with raised eyebrows repeats, “niccccccccccce.”
Apparently for these two, wisdom doesn’t come with age.
THE SCENE: Me, walking down Broadway between 178 and 179th streets on a 60 degree day in February, enjoying my lunch break. Mr. Man is heading my way with his buddy, and gives me an exaggerated look up and down.
Mr. Man: Yo baby, you’re gorgeous! I wanna hit that! Mmmmmmmmm…..
Me: (walking, walking, and then bam: 180) Sir, can I take your picture?
Mr. Man: Why do you want to take my picture?
Me: Because I’m taking pictures of everyone who thinks I’m pretty today.
Mr. Man: Girl, you can take my picture everyday!
The weirdest part was, as soon as I started talking to him I could sense that he wasn’t a kidnapper, rapist, or even really an asshole. He was just a confused guy with absolutely no lady skills. Still, if I hadn’t turned around for the HOLLABACK, I would have walked on feeling a little shaken and self-conscious. How I am supposed to know which are the nice guys and which just don’t get it?
Hollaback 1, Mr. Man 0.
Play better next time.
Okay, so it’s not New York or even America but whatever, it still irritated the hell out of me. I am 13. I moved to Barcelona a few months ago from London and I have found the attention here to be a lot more blatant than in England. For example: The other day I was in the park going for a walk. I was strolling through, enjoying the sights as one does when a guy of about 25 walks past, stares at me and goes “Hollllaaaaa’. When I ignore him he goes “Hola, guapa!” (Hello beautiful) and WINKS at me. I walk faster and get away, feeling freaked out but glad I’m
safe. A few minutes later, I come across him again, this time sitting on a bench. At which point he ponts his middle finger at me, SUCKS IT and gives me the most lecherous stare I have ever seen. It was only after I’d got away that I realised I should have taken a picture. It wasn’t only the way he talked to me that bothered me, it was the fact that I am blatantly a 13 year old girl, and not going to screw him. I guess the fact that afterwards I felt like kicking his head in for treating me like an object didn’t bother him.
Check out the new updates to our Holla Shame. Some of our recent favorites have just been added. Send any suggestions for other gems that should be added to email@example.com.
….and as always, keep the photos comin’!
Posted by Jennifer
My friend Mari and I had been discussing how placid our lives have become since school ended, now that we have traded the emotional highs and lows of college life for steady paychecks, steady relationships and predictable routines.
Fortunately, however, you appeared with pleasingly ironic timing to shake us out of our complacency. We were just placidly browsing along St. Mark’s Place when you suddenly told Mari and me about that very naughty thing you wanted to do with us. And not just you, but the guy who was working with you, too! Thanks!
We hurried into the store next door, and I thought about you for a few minutes (oh yes, I did). I finally decided to preserve the experience for my Internet scrapbook (i.e. my blog) by taking a photo of you with my handy camera-phone. I don’t understand why you looked so surprised. How could I let this precious moment slip by without taking a photo?
I also don’t understand why you didn’t answer me when I asked you why you said those things to us. After all, you did initiate the conversation, and I genuinely wanted to know. And I don’t understand why you got so angry when I mused out loud that it might be because you’re an ugly pervert who gratifies himself by harassing random women. After all, I thought you might also want to know how it feels to be treated like a piece of meat.
I think you should be honored to know that you’re the first man I’ve ever snapped back at. Over the three years I’ve lived in New York City, I’ve had many strange men do and say extraordinarily nasty things to me. In fact, some of the things they’ve said or done have been even nastier, and even more degrading. But you, dear sir, are the first.
I’ve been told that I should just get used to it; that, being a woman and all, I need to take it for granted that I will be harassed on the street. But while I have become a bit complacent, I like to think that I haven’t yet mutated into a doormat.
Hugs and kisses (not really),
P.S. By the way, if you’re going to sexually harass someone, try not to do it while you’re at work. I think that sock store deserves more attentive employees. Plus, with all those frilly anklets in stock, your boss might not be happy if you start scaring away the lady customers.
They were totally absorbed in their stupidass bantering (they had moved on to other targets) and didn’t even see me bust out my phone and snap a photo. It was the first time I did it and a little scary, but I encourage all the grrls to get up close for them photos if it’s safe – these fuckers need exposure & humiliation!