Verbal

A strong woman + a lifetime of harassment = a powerful Hollaback.

I’m so glad this site exists, so people can share there experiences and realise they’re not the only ones – well done guys!!! I’ve had many unfortunately, but I will just mention a few. My city has no official blog yet.

As a introverted and shy teenager, I was carrying 2 heavy bags of shopping (and looking pretty rough, old jean and sweatshirt) in, A circle of at least 10 drunk guys surrounded me, blocking me and not letting me walk off. They were wearing novelty costumes (a stag night, maybe). I felt so intimidated that a froze. The “ring leader” came forward, and said, “we won’t let you go until you give us all a kiss”. I was still frozen. He started to move his face closer to mine, it was so disgusting. I squeaked, “I have a boyfriend” (I didn’t) and pushed past them. And they were all laughing, I felt so humiliated and sick for the rest of the evening.

Not too long after that, another woman I didn’t know and I were walking down a narrow street with scaffolding in the pouring rain and wolf whistles started from the builders. We both turned around and one went “No, not you, you train wreck” I don’t know which of us the attention was aimed at, but again this made my day just a little worse.

Another time drunk guy in club maneuvered me into a corner and wouldn’t let me go until I gave him my (fake) number.

To top this off, I went abroad to a certain foreign country (religiously conservative and by some standards 3rd world) for study reasons, where street harassment is the norm. In fact sexual responsibility and “sin” falls almost entirely on the women’s side. Women are belittled, some are not allowed out on their own, and stared at constantly even if they are dressed extremely modestly (as I was). Some women particularly of minority ethnic origins, have stones thrown at them (I think since I was taller than most of the men, they didn’t dare with me). Also if a man is staring at you, they won’t stop staring even if you make eye contact – they think they have the right. They would talk to me, even though it is meant to be unacceptable to talk to women they do not know.

Yes, I was aware of this behavior before I went, I am aware it is a different culture and values and I am a guest in their country etc etc but it still made me feel sick and it doesn’t make it right – I talked to many women who lived there and they all hated the harassment too, but they felt powerless about it. I felt under siege. Another sent flowers to my school and tried to negotiate with the school principal to marry me. Urghh. At a tourist festival, all the local men were photographing US, western women, more than we were photographing the festival itself. The one time that was almost funny was when I was visiting a local landmark and a rich looking man started filming us even though he was with his family! Then his wife saw and smacked him hard across the head and a torrent of verbal abuse was aimed at him by the women. Hah! That showed him!

It got more serious though. There was one incident where I felt my life was genuinely threatened, when I was stranded due to circumstances beyond my control. A man I didn’t know (whose unwanted attentions and sexual threats I had rejected) accelerated his taxi at me, almost running me down while I was alone on a dark night and deliberately intimidating me, then drove off in the night. In that moment my brain flashed to the attacks that’s had happened in South Africa, where a gang ran women down with cars to disable and rape them. I was so scared and numb. I stood for 10 minutes in the dark in the pouring rain, waiting to get in through the gate to my house (gatekeeper was in the toilet), all the time thinking he was coming back. The feral (and sometimes rabid) dogs prowling about added a nice atmospheric touch.

After 2 months of this, the effect on me, in addition to my other experiences, was profound. I’m sorry if this sounds cliche but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel tears pricking at my eyes as I typed the previous paragraph. Since I’ve returned home I’m very sensitive to street harassment.

When I go out, I tend to wear hoodies and jeans, and don’t call attention to myself. I walk tall and confident and with purpose, but I don’t feel that way, even though I’m 5’7 and reasonably attractive. I keep my face blank, carry keys or perfume in my pockets (for defence if needs be) and my phone in other. I tend to be hyper-vigilant and I get really angry, mostly inside, at street harassment, particularly by drunks. My body language becomes very defensive even if a man is being respectful and friendly in showing interest in me, I blank them and turn my head away.

Even now in my mid twenties I feel vulnerable going out alone wearing skirts and dresses (although I will with a group of friends, rarely, in house parties or places I feel safe), even though I love girly dresses, especially retro ones. I want to go out and feel beautiful within myself and respected, and you know what, one day I want to meet the right guy, get married and be happy – but if keep acting this way I worry I’ll never get that close to a guy again. Its sad but I think I have had more negative contact from guys in my life than positive.

Things are getting a little better now, I feel happier and more confident than I have in years although the emotional distance is still there. I have travelled alone to many countries, made new friends, skydived, climbed mountains. If you met me in a social situation you would probably never guess any of it – I would come across a pretty, friendly girl, not a wallflower.

But I have to say this – Guys, please be considerate. Try not to be obnoxious assholes who stare and and yell and grope. I’m a nice, funny, person and although I try to be strong, I have a thin skin and these things still hurt me. And it has been these little incidents, the harassment which guys don’t even seem to think about, and which still happen to me occasionally, which make it worse.

Submitted by A.

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The Movement

We’re hiring and we’re shaking it up!

As you know by now, HollabackNYC was developed in 2005 by a group of young adults. In 2010, I became executive director of Hollaback! and the project transformed from a series of local blogs into an international organization. Now, the Hollaback! is looking to hand the management of the NYC website to a group of ten 18-22 young women and LGBTQ individuals who are representative of New York City’s diversity in terms of race, socio-economic perspective, and educational background. The youth will receive six months of training, which will include everything from social media, to comment moderation, to event planning. At the end of the training, the youth will be integrated into Hollaback’s network and will be handed HollabackNYC to manage on their own.

We couldn’t be more excited about this transition. Please help us out by spreading the word about the HollabackNYC Program Director position (or applying yourself!).

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The Movement

Why I Hollaback: Emily’s story

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public masturbation

Scary, scary 2 train turd

I was sitting on the 2 train at approximately 8:45 pm tonight. This man very purposefully stood above me, though it wasn’t a crowded train at all. He had his hand in his pocket, and was clearly touching himself while staring at me. He was holding honda 3-d glasses. I don’t know why. I took this picture of his face and said “excuse me pervert” and got up and off the train. I am still nearly hyperventilating. Please post this. I don’t want anyone else to feel this way.

Submitted by Annie

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Nonverbal Harassment

Death Stare

This creepy little fuckface in the blue dress shirt was eyeing up every woman who either looked younger than 40 or was wearing anything that showed the vaguest sliver of skin. He seemed to particularly have a leg fetish- like a cutting up legs fetish, seriously, his gaze was so eerily intent. He’s looking over there because there were three teenage girls whose conversation he was actively eavesdropping on. I wanted to scream out, “ASSHOLE WE CAN SEE YOUR WEDDING RING AND WE’RE NOT INTERESTED ANYWAY.” FFS.

Submitted by Lucy

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Verbal

Marilyn Monroe I am not


Got another one for you: Yesterday evening I was running some errands on Broadway in SoHo, dressed in a flowy skirt and my running sneakers, when out of nowhere a storm suddenly moved in and a strong wind started blowing. I moved quickly toward the nearest subway entrance to escape the storm, but as the wind blew harder and harder, I struggled with both hands to hold my skirt down while still attempting to walk and carry my bags. Marilyn Monroe I am not, and I had already been having a really terrible day, so having to deal with sudden wind gusts possibly exposing my underwear to the world was bringing me very close to the end of my rope. It was just then, of course, that a disgusting man who looked to be in his late 50s (older than my father!) turned around and started stalking behind me, shouting, “Blow wind, blow!” and, “Show me some of that ass!” along with other obscenities. Humiliated, creeped out, angry, and on the verge of tears, I found myself wishing so hard that I had a third hand available so that I could punch the perv right in the face. Alas, had to weather his harassment all the way down the block, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I still feel gross thinking about it.

Submitted by Carey

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NYPD FAIL, public masturbation

"This is the third time someone has reported this about him." WTF?

Earlier this afternoon, I was working on my laptop at the Steven A. Schwarzman branch of the New York Public Library, when I noticed a man, seated one desk away across from me, staring at me. I tried to ignore it at first, but he kept staring even when I stared right back at him to let him know I was aware of what he was doing. I noticed he had one hand on the desk and the other one under the desk, and suspected he was up to mischief. However, since I couldn’t really see, I did not say anything. I did not want to change seats because I already switched seats earlier (another story). Besides, I did not want to be intimidated into moving. At some point, the guy got up from his seat and shifted some chairs around so that my line of vision to his legs were blocked. Moments later, he got up and moved the chairs around again to clear my line of vision and I knew something was up (no pun intended). A few minutes later, he was back in his chair, staring at me and masturbating.

I took out my iPhone to photograph him and he quickly shielded his face with his hand. He then got up to leave and all I got was a picture of him walking away, his face turned to the side. I followed him, knowing he would encounter a security check point. He walked through–the security guard seemed to recognize him and they exchanged goodbyes. I told the security guard what happened, who shook his head and said, “This is the third time someone has reported this about him.” WTF? I looked at him incredulously and asked why nothing was being done, why he didn’t go after the guy. He said he could not leave his station and shrugged. I insisted that he contacted some one through his radio–the man would have to go through another security checkpoint–which he finally did, but by that time, the guy–as I later learned–had already left the building.

I got my things and was escorted to the library’s security office to report the incident. Two men in suits came to speak to me. As I was explaining what happened, one of them began to defend the guard for not leaving his station and said that the perpetrator had likely left the building. Meanwhile, the other suit whisked away my phone to another office without asking me. I insisted on knowing what was going on and followed the man who took my phone; he had plugged it into his computer at his desk. I politely reminded him that he had not asked for my permission and he returned my phone without, I think, downloading any files. It was not that I did not want to share the photo but that no one was telling me what was going on. One of them instructs a guard to begin filing a report. “For sexual harassment?” the guard asks. “No, for public lewdness.”

The suits then asked if I wanted to talk to the police and press charges, and since I felt like I wasn’t sure what the library was going to do about the incident, I said yes. While waiting, one of the suits asks me to look at surveillance images of a library exit to identify the man (again, it was his profile image) and “as best as I could tell,” it was him. 35 minutes later, the police came. After hearing my story, they explained that there was nothing they could do; even if they had caught him, no charges could be pressed since he had not “indecently exposed” himself. In the presence of the police officers, one of the suits told me that he had seen the perp around before, recognized him and will “ban” him from the library the next time he comes by. One of the police officers then walked me to a subway stop and advised me on how to respond should I ever see the man at the library again.

Years ago as a teenager, I had been harassed and was paralyzed with shock, fear and self-doubt, unable to respond. I’m glad that I had the presence of mind to react this time and not be intimidated, but oh, I am so angry with that guy for being so demeaning and for stealing my precious writing time. What upsets me more is that I had to insist before the security staff took any action and, worse, the security staff seem to have had previous reports about this man but never ever followed up because who knows why. Is it really too much to ask to be taken seriously when reporting an incident of sexual harassment?

Submitted by Fiona

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Verbal

I want to "train you"????

I went for a run this morning. I was walking to the park when two men in a van start yelling at me out their window. They were stopped at a light. They were yelling about my ass and how much they liked it. They were also saying something about how they wanted to “train me”. I have no idea what they meant but whatever it was, it was disgusting. They were really hollering and honking at me for quite a while, and I turned to look at them twice. When I did, they just cheered and yelled more. It was awful. I wanted to yell at them but was far too upset and felt powerless. I mean, I’ve been catcalled before- but they couldn’t even have defended these comments as compliments. They were just plain crude and perverse. I want to “train you”???? I am not a dog or your slave. I am a woman who deserves respect just like every other human being and animal on this planet. They thought they could yell at me because they were in a large moving vehicle and there were two of them. I wish I’d looked to see if it was a company vehicle, but I was way too upset.

Anyway, I felt like I wanted to cry, but I just kept walking on. I pass this fellow planting a tree outside an apartment building. He says, “Good morning pretty girl”. So immediately I turn around and start telling him off. He turned out to be actually an okay guy. So I ended up apologizing for snapping at him, but still told him to reconsider his catcalling ways. I told him that women don’t appreciate it, no matter how much of a compliment it is, and that he should think about what it’s like to be a woman, namely: scary and disempowered. To drive the point home I told him what the ASSHOLES said about “training me”, which made me immediately burst out crying. So then I ran off crying.

Great. Just how I want to spend one of my only mornings off from work.

Thank you Hollaback for being such an incredible organization.

Submitted by Eve

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Verbal

Video of harassers in Kensington, Brooklyn

 

Guy street harassing me from Sarah Liz on Vimeo.

This creep and his friends have been bugging me for years. Calling the cops every time it happened worked briefly. I thought videotaping it would deter them, but clearly it didn’t.

Submitted by Sarah Liz

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