Appalachian Ohio, Athens GA, Atlanta, Berkeley, Baltimore, Boston, Chicago, Cleveland, Columbia MO, Columbus, Des Moines, Durham & Chapel Hill, East Lansing, Fredericksburgh VA, Houston, Los Angeles, Muncie IN, New York City, NYU, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Plattsburgh, Richmond VA, San Francisco, Tucson, Twin Cities
I was on post at my job when an middle-aged gentleman proceeded to take his rolled up race program and slap my left buttcheek with it. Earlier in the day, he grabbed my wrist to look at my tattoo but I thought nothing of it at the time. I just dismissed him as another drunk patron.
But after the newspaper incident, I immediately reported him to my supervisor who took over 40 minutes to return with a security guard. The guard went over to the man (who was kicking back, drinking beer in his lawn chair next to his wife) and asked him his side of the story. I then watched the security guard and the man exchange laughter/guffaws while looking in my direction.
I took my break to calm down and came back to my post to hear from my co-worker that the gentleman in question came over to apologize to me. He also informed my co-worker that he was an off-duty police officer.
I had to let him through my turnstile for the rest of my shift whilst being subjected to his leers. We don’t have HR on site where we work, so my complaint is lost in translation with our NYC office. In order to pay my bills, I have to be subjected to this patron for the rest of the season.
I was out to dinner with someone and shortly after we sat down, this man walked in alone, sat down, and stared a hard, perverted leer directly into my eyes the whole thirty minutes we were there. The evil glares I gave in return did nothing. When the waiter came by to see “how everything was going” I told him that guy wouldn’t stop staring at me, and the waiter seemed irritated with me for caring/trying to drag him into it. Finally I decided to snap one for Hollaback and he took this to mean I was snapping his picture because I was so interested in him. So even though he was out of what are supposed to be the bounds of social acceptability, I was the one made to feel embarrassed and ashamed for wanting it to stop/having it happen to me in the first place.
My friend and I went to the U2 concert. At the concert there was an inner ring that was pretty crowded and sort of like a mosh pit. My friend and I, being the stupid 16 year olds we are, decide that we just wanted to walk through from one end to the other to see if it was worth standing in there. It was really crowded and we quickly decided that once we found our way out of the ring we would not come back. But as we were walking through we pushed past three boys that were probably about 17. My friend was walking first so she didn’t see it but all three of the boys stared at us in a really creepy way that made me feel uneasy. Then as I was getting past the last boy he grabbed his crotch and gave me this look as I stared at him in repulsion. Needless to say I pushed my friend a little faster and said KEEP GOING when she tried to stop right after we passed them. The three boys heard me say this and started laughing like it was all some big joke. I felt like crying. What gives them the right to make me feel uncomfortable just because I’m a girl? I wish someone would have seen and done something. I wish I would have done something. Because that was no joke and it was not okay.
I was walking from my car to campus with two friends when I saw about 4 men fixing a roof nearby. Not long after, we began hearing things like, “hey ladies”, “Heeeey mama!” and the like. I used it as an opportunity to tell my friends about Hollaback! (they hadn’t heard of it). It was a great way to avoid the situation AND educate a few more people about this amazing site.
Walking back home through the park at 6pm, with my 2 year old daughter, a group of men between 20 and 40- 4 in total sat drinking on a bench. One waved at me, then they began to shout at me ‘Slag’, ‘Slut’, ‘fat bitch’, ‘fucking slut’ etc. It would have been bad enough alone, but I was with my little girl. I didn’t respond, just ushered her out of the park with a heart heavy with the knowledge that this will no doubt happen to her some time in the future.
I was walking to my summer camp this morning when I was harassed. First off, I would just like to state that I am a 13 year old girl. I don’t dress provocatively, and the same goes for today. I was wearing a knee length dress with a baggy sweater over it. I was also talking on the phone with my mom, like I always do to feel safer when I walk around by myself. I was walking down the street, and during a lull in my conversation with my mom, I noticed two men (mid 30s, medium build, average height) standing near a truck. Their eyes seemed to glaze over as they looked at my butt and legs, and one commented, “Damn, I’d like to smoke that shit.” I have no idea what it meant, but it didn’t feel right. I felt violated, but I kept walking. I regret not saying and doing all the things that I’ve trained myself to do, like flipping them off or humiliating them. I have been harassed so many other times, but I’ve never had a man say that he’s wanted to do sexual things to me. I wish I was able to walk around and not feel like I will be assaulted. Why are men such animals?
On Wednesday morning, June 29th during rush hour, I was standing on the platform at Elmhurst Avenue in Queens waiting for the train. The M train had just gone by so I was one of three people waiting for the R. I heard a person gasp behind me and I turned around to see a man standing too close to me. I moved away and didn’t notice what he was doing until I realized he was inching towards to me again. I then quickly noticed was that his shirt was too long for his height and underneath it his hand was moving rapidly. I moved towards the center of the platform and thought that would be the end of him until I turned to my left and there he was again. More people were now on the platform and I walked back towards the front and stood near another woman my age. I figured that if he followed me again this woman would at least notice and validate that I wasn’t imagining things! This is definitely not a common occurrence in my neighborhood. Luckily he didn’t follow me but I remember a friend of mine mentioning a girl once took a picture of a man who had been rubbing up against her on the train and that he was arrested; I thought at the least I could email it to my local precinct. I got my camera ready and started to walk towards the center of the platform, where I had left him, and all-of-a-sudden I saw him sprint up the exit. I looked up the stairs to see if he was gone and he was, but when I turned back around this woman was looking at me with this terrified expression and I knew I had definitely not imagined the whole thing!
BY CARA COURCHESNE, cross posted from her blog quarter.life.crisis
Yesterday, I was in a meeting where the topic of street harassment came up. The only man in the meeting asked me (sincerely and without being an asshole) the difference between someone who is genuinely trying to compliment a woman and someone who is actively engaging in harassment-like behavior.
A basic “what not to do” list is what I came up with.
1.) I am at work and you think it’s perfectly appropriate to comment on (any part of) my body, my tattoos, or my clothing. I used to be a waitress and one of the worst things – besides having a serve screaming toddlers – was having to deal with men who thought that because I was bringing their sandwich to their table, I wanted to be a part of their sandwich.
I do not want to be part of your sandwich. I smiled at you BECAUSE IT IS MY FUCKING JOB AND I AM BEING PAID TO BE NICE TO PEOPLE.
Generally, your waitress does not find it attractive when you lean in and make a comment about her “really, really, really nice hands” while your wife is in the bathroom (true story); when you put your phone number on the check (this screams that you’re terrified of me and/or you realize that you being a dick); when you ask if I want to sit down and have a drink (I’m at work, you tool); or when you decide to ask me really probing questions about various aspects of my physical appearance: “Is that hair real?” No, it’s fake and I reattach it every morning. “What does your tattoo mean?” Fuck off – in Dutch.
2.) You are at work and you think it’s appropriate to comment on (any part of) my body, my tattoos, or my clothing: When I’m in line getting my coffee in the morning; when I’m walking by your construction site; when I’m going to a meeting at your place of employment; when I am walking on the sidewalk and you lean out of the restaurant where you’re some sort of middle management to tell me that you would tap my ass; or really anyplace where I can call your boss and say, “Hey, Employee Douchebag is, well, being a douchebag on work time, and I’m not so sure that’s what you’re paying him to do,” is probably when you don’t want to engage in sexually harassing me. I will call you on that shit.
3.) I am walking my dog and you are driving by. I have a few reasons why I walk my dog. They are pretty simple. She has to pee/poop/needs exercise or it’s a nice day. That’s really about it. I’m not walking my dog because I feel like listening to your asshole comments about my breasts, because I enjoy hearing you yell “I want you to suck my dick!!!” out of your car window, or because I want you to ask me how old my dog is as a roundabout way of talking about numbers so you can get mine (true story). Chances are, I have thrown on the clothes I wore yesterday or I’m still wearing what I wore to bed, I haven’t had coffee, and I don’t want to talk to you. I want to scoop the dog’s poop and go back home. Don’t pull up next to me to talk to me unless you’re asking for directions. Fran will go Cujo on your shit. Really.
4.) At the gym. I hate going to the gym with a strong, burning passion that rivals little else. So, first of all, I’m not in a good mood when I’m there. Second of all, I want to leave as quickly as possible. I’m not there for social hour. This means that I don’t want you to come over and strike up a conversation about my glutes, and I don’t want to hear you muttering comments to your friends about my…workout style. And if you’re one of those guys who walks around the gym talking on his cell phone, that goes double for you.
5.) Really, anywhere. I have a right to be anywhere I need/want to be without having to listen to individual men or groups of men comment on anything about me – my hands, my hair, my glasses, my tattoos, my breasts, and my ass. I have a nice ass, I have awesome hair. I know that. I don’t need you to tell me.
The answer to the question, “How do I make sure that a woman knows that I’m making a genuinely nice comment and not being a street-harassing jerk?” is actually a simple one. If you think that you might be overstepping a boundary, you probably are. If you are taken aback by a woman who responds “negatively” to you when you were “just trying to be nice”, remember that she has a right to respond to you however she chooses and chances are, she has just had enough with comments directed at her physical appearance. Take it from me – it gets exhausting and actually makes me feel unsafe when there are multiple comments directed at my business.
And if you have a “poor little you, you’re so attractive, it must be so hard to be so attractive” response, then you need some serious education about your ignorant shit.
This is the worst that has happened to me, (I seem to be a constant target of catcalls, and I don’t even dress sexy, like that should matter, just a shirt and jeans) and this happened to me 2 yrs ago at a bus stop. My car was not working at the time and was taking the bus. A drunk was walking towards the bus stop and I saw his lips move as trying to say something and I of course ignored him as I always do (since I have my headphones on) but this time this man had the audacity to stop in front of me to continue to try and talk to me while he touched & massaged his “baggage.” I had a long coat on, sunglasses, and headphones. Shocked and disgusted as he was only 2 feet away from me I immediately shoved him with the umbrella I was carrying as there was a possibility of rain that day…Looking back I wished I would have pushed him harder onto the street to make him fall onto oncoming traffic or hit his “baggage” with the umbrella to make him fall into fetal position. I was so embarrassed and humiliated because no one around me did anything and the one lady that was also waiting for the bus just 6ft away from me look up and down on me as if I did something wrong.