Verbal

Deacachimba!

Saturday’s field investigations led to the shocking conclusions:

 

1.Patriarchy is still the foundation of our society
2.It sucks to be a woman in said society
To make a short story long, it began last week. My friend Glow, the child-prodigy photographer extraordinaire and I, decided to meet up and get all artsy together. The plan was to for me to slap on some draggish makeup, and flit around downtown Managua playing good photographer/crappy model. FUN. The first location (namely, in front of a white wall in my house) was a bit limited. “Egads”, said I “A park would present a world of backdropsical possibilities!” So off we trot to the Parque Japonés. We got off to a fairly good start, and Glow got one or two really incredible shots until-

 


these pieces of shit started harrassing us. I believe they began to whistle, make kiss-y noises, and holler something about the effect of Glow’s dress, or my top, or whatthefuckever. Being a dedicated, if mediocre model, I tried to avoid breaking concentration; hence my simple, but elegant response: I gave them the finger. 

Bad idea.

The shouting became incessant. They started approaching us. We started to get very, very nervous. Now, I’m not so much a delicate flower as a holy terror in a mosh pit. But you can’t overlook the fact we’re still two 5′ 0″ teenagers with a backpack full of clothes, and they’re grown-ass male fuckbags with a whole pack of grown-ass fuckbags behind them. This is the point where it’s generally advisable to run.

Not today. Glow stood up and began screaming, along the lines of “WHY ARE YOU SEXUALLY HARRASSING ME?! I COULD BE YOUR DAUGHTER! WHY ARE YOU SEXUALLY HARRASSING ME?! WHY?! WE’RE JUST TRYING TO TAKE PICTURES! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” Not to be outdone, I felt the need to add “WHY WON’T YOU LEAVE US ALONE?! THIS IS A PUBLIC PLACE! WE’RE MINORS! STOP SEXUALLY HARRASSING US!”

Well, that sort of did the trick. They turned and ran to the other basketball court, though not fast enough to escape Glow’s lens. But best of all, not twenty seconds afterwards, two security guards came running up to us. After explaining the situation (much to their credit, they didn’t scoff or dismiss verbal assault as a waste of time, like some policemen I know), they told us to be careful, and that they would be sitting nearby now, even if they couldn’t kick them out of the park (why not, I still don’t know). But by then we were too weirded out and scared to stay any longer. We thanked them and left.

But since male privilege does not pertain exclusively to gang-y fuckbags in parks, as a few blocks away, we were verbally assaulted by another pair of cockmonglers.


This time I walked close enough for them to hear me and asked why felt the need to say those things to us. Being cockmonglers of the weaselly breed, their Cockweasel-in-Chief came up with some smirky story of mistaking me for their niece.

Riiight.

So, that’s the sad story of two girls who had the audacity of being young, female, and pedestrians, but more importantly, young female pedestrians with NO MALE CHAPERONE! The horror! They were asking for it!

Hmmm. At least we got some great pics out of it. Props to Glow, whose deviantart boasts some of the more succesful shots from the first two locations, and to the two security guards at the park: authority figures who deserve that responsibility. And as Glow said, “I bet those fucks have never been questioned by a girl in drag queen lashes before.”

Submitted by Christiane in Nicaragua

 

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Uncategorized

Harassment at Penn State

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Verbal

A Ham On The Way to Eat my Nachos

 

At 12:05 p.m. today I was feeling a bit peckish so I headed over to Taco Bell to get some nachos. As I was crossing Manhattan Avenue (at India Street), I heard a man yell “Hey Mami”! Over and over. 

I stopped and took his picture. Unlike most people I photograph, this asshole was hamming it up for the camera. Given that he was operating a commercial vehicle, it begs one to wonder what his employer would think of his conduct. I for one thought he was behaving in a decidedly UNprofessional manner.

Submitted by Miss H from www.newyorkshitty.com

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public masturbation

I Whipped It Out (My Phone that is)


This morning around 9:45am on the local green line I sit down and bury my head in a book. I am wearing a hat with a brim since its been raining, which gives me a bit more cover to analyze what people are up to around me.. This guy sitting across the aisle is looking suspicious, leaning forward with a coat in his lap and a leer in his eye.

I go on reading, and glance up briefly and notice this guy has his cock out dangling under his coat and is jerking off while studying the lady sitting next to me. I can feel she is uncomfortable and so am I he’s less than 4 feet away. I have never been in this situation- in broad daylight surrounded by people that are aware but not doing anything.

So I whip mine out..my phone that is- and snap a photo of this idiot. What upsets me more than this individual pleasuring himself in public is that no one else said or did anything! Thats the most unfortunate part to this story. There was a man who was down the bench from this
degenerate and I could tell he could tell what was going on- but he did nothing..he sat and looked a bit shocked.

After snapping this image I got off before my stop and went two or three cars over to find the conductor- I told him what was going on in the cars just a few down- he began radioing the police. I don’t know if they caught the guy, I didn’t wait to find out. I had to get to work, but at least I took action…why didn’t anyone else???

Oh the humanity.

Submitted by Jordan

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Uncategorized

Another Jerk on the Sidewalk

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flashing, public masturbation

Flabby Little Phalluses

I wasn’t able to take a photo, but wanted to write about a recent experience of subway harassment anyway because, as they say, third time’s a charm. I’m referring to the fact that I was recently confronted for the third time in the last decade with a passive aggressive pervert jerking off on the subway, and I finally reacted in a way that I feel good about.

More on that in a minute, but the first thing I want to mention is that each of the three asshats who felt it necessary to flog their flabby little phalluses on public transit were all different in terms of age (one in his early twenties, one seemed to be in his late thirties, and one seemed to be solidly middle-aged, has kids in high school range), geography (one was on the D train in Coney Island, one on the F train not far from Park Slope, and one on the MBTA in Boston) and ethnicity (two were white, one was a man of color), but despite their differences they each wore the exact same sickening, sweaty and totally smug, “what’s getting me off is you being uncomfortable” stare as they groped themselves while trying to lock eyes with me. The smugness is what stood out the most each time — as if what was sexually gratifying to them was women’s inability to stop this harassment.

Anyway, when this happened again it took me totally by surprise, because while I often deal with street harassment whenever I’m in Manhattan and often in various parts of Brooklyn, I’ve almost never dealt with it in my neighborhood in Brooklyn. Here’s what went down. I was standing at the bottom of the steps on the F train platform at 6:30, lots of other people on the platform but no one else near me at the bottom of the stairs. I heard someone from the top of the staircase call out, a “Psst” kind of sound. Instinct caused me to look up the stairs, where I saw a middle aged man beating off, smiling that same smug smirk I remembered from the last two guys I saw do this on subways. My initial five-seconds-after reaction was to instantly turn away, really startled, somewhat frightened and incredibly angry. After those five seconds, though, I realized that this guy had no power over me other than in his mind, and if I didn’t react in a way that took my power back, I’d be mad about it all night, maybe longer. So, I turned back around, looked directly at him and screamed, “Fuck you, asshole! Who do you think wants to see that?” He froze, a fearful dear-in-the-headlights look passed over his face, and he dropped his dick as if it were all of a sudden burning his hand. A second later, he turned and ran away, while I screamed after him, “Yeah, you better run away! Run away like the sad, pathetic, small-penised pervert you are!”

I instantly felt better.

Submitted by Jennifer P.

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