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Way back in 1973 when I was 22 and was working as a custodian along with my husband I had gone to clean an office near the loading dock in the cardboard box factory where we were assigned. My husband was cleaning the men’s restroom while I did the office.
The plant electrician entered the office and came close to me and then reached his hand between the front of my legs and groped me.
I went immediately across the plant to get my husband to help me to report the man to his supervisor. He spoke to the supervisor who spoke to the electrician but the man was not fired as I continued to see him driving around the plant night after night until we left that facility at the end of the month.
Submitted by Eileen
It is common to get cat called or whistled at when walking in the streets of Mexico City. Personally, I could say that I get verbally harassed about three times a week in different areas where I transit about.
I would like to mention the latest event of this type. I had just hopped off the Metrobus and was walking by a magazine stand when a young man, probably a salesman I had never seen before starts walking beside me and tells me “que guapa amiga… eh?” (I could translate it as “you are cute my friend, hey?”)
I continued walking and ignored him with a straight face so he kept on walking by my side and in an angry tone asked me if I was going to be mad at him or what,…as if I had the obligation to answer back at him. He eventually left my side as I went closer to a restaurant. Since then I take a detour from that area whenever I can. Policemen usually favor the ambulant salesmen who often bribe them to be able to sell their goods in the street….so there is no use nor safety in reporting directly to them. Sadly.
Submitted by Amancaya
A middle-aged man was passing out flyers while I was on my way to the library. I was passing him by when he complimented me and said, “You’re so beautiful.” I said thank you and tried to keep on walking when I realized that he kept following me and repeating it over and over again. “Don’t you speak English?” he said. “I SAID YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL.” I told him, “I do speak English and I said thanks,” trying to get away. Finally, after about ten minutes, he stopped following me. What I really wanted to do was curse him out and tell him I am a freaking English major and that he had no right to expect some sort of gratitude from me just because of a compliment, not to mention STALK me when I didn’t engage in a conversation with him. Just because you pay me a compliment does not mean I am obligated to go on my hands and knees to thank you or get to know you. Don’t accuse me of not knowing how to speak in English just because I don’t speak your language of creeperism.
Submitted by S.A.
On a half empty subway train with empty seats this guy was sitting next to women who were sitting in the window seat trapping them in next to him. Then he would start hitting on them. I noticed this happening from the other side of the train, he did not do it to me, and it didn’t really piss me off until one lady, obviously uninterested, asked to get up so she could move away from this guy. He just barely shifted his weight, and did not move out of the way. The woman rolled her eyes and was forced to slide her body over his to get out. She was forced to make physical contact. He got this smug little smile when he made her do this. I lost it. I waited till he sat down next to yet another girl and got up in his face and took a photo. “THAT’S ENOUGH OF THAT. You are being creepy!” I said to him. I told him exactly what he was doing and that he needed to stop. I told him no one was interested and he was not “smooth” making girls touch him who did not want to. He got offended and said he was just “talking to them” and yelled at me for a minute but stopped his harassment. He stood by the doors till I got off. I walked right past him and wished him a blessed day.
Submitted by Caitlin
I was standing on a busy London street outside a tube station with a girlfriend around 2am, waiting for her mom to come and pick us up to take us to her house (I was about 22, 23 at the time). I was leaning on a barrier that separated the pavement from the road, looking out over the road, essentially almost bent at the waist. A group of 3 men walked past, a little the worse for wear, and one of them came up behind me, gripped my backside, and started doing sexual motions with his hips, laughing with his friends. I wasn’t having that, so I quickly whipped my right arm around, still bent at the elbow, towards his face. If I had hit, it would have knocked him for six, I’m sure. I stopped about an inch from his face, and said very calmly, almost quietly, “Go AWAY”. The men stopped laughing, swallowed, and walked away, and my friend looked at me in amazement, and asked where I’d learned to defend myself… I wouldn’t recommend that kind of physical action for every situation, but at that time, it just felt right, and it was an instinctive reaction. I feel for the women who’ve had to put up with this kind of behaviour – its not acceptable, and it needs to end. pronto.
Submitted by K
It’s hard for me to tell this story because I was so shamed and distressed by it, but it’s good too, to share.
This happened a long time ago, but I think it’s helpful because it shows how this sort of harassment can hurt for a long time.
When I was 12 I was at the Winter Fair at Landsdowne Park in Ottawa with my 6th grade class. We were all running around being silly, having escaped teacher supervision. At that age I had already developed as a woman. As I was running past this old man who looked like a farmer, he yelled at me, “Nice tits!”. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. It scared me and I still feel scared as I type this. The rest of the day was blur, except when he yelled it at me again, about 20 minutes later. That night I went to a family gathering at my Grandma’s and I felt depressed, anxious, withdrawn, dirty, moody and ashamed. I honestly felt like I would never feel safe and comfortable with my body or my self again. It took time but I healed from this; however, my body still feels the fear and shame today when I think of this.
I was sensitive as a pre-teen about my sexuality and it’s taken me a long time to become confident in it; it’s something I’m still working on at age 31.
I don’t know why a man would need to say something like that to a young girl, but anything we can do to stop this sort of action is important and valuable. I want the world to be a place where people feel good, confident, safe and respected. Thanks for creating this site!!
Submitted by Charlotte
I was visiting a friend in Chicago last July, but while he was at work I decided to explore the city. I was sitting on a bench in Chinatown, reading a paper, when this old man comes up to me. I move my things so he can sit. I was 20 at the time. I have dark brown skin, dark curly hair, and was wearing an orange tank, brown flip-flops, and baggy khakis slightly above the knee.
He starts talking to me, and even though I felt something strange, I ignored it. After all, you’re supposed to be respectful of elders, right? He keeps chatting, and I nod and answer his questions and keep trying to read my paper. He asks if I live here. He puts his arm around me. I freeze. And now I know something’s wrong. He asks me how tall I am and I tell him, then he says “I don’t believe you stand up.” So I do, and he stands up and hugs me. He tries to kiss me but I turn my head so it lands on my cheek, and then he presses himself against me and I can feel him. His hands slide down my waist to my ass and I try to push him away, but my brain’s gone all fuzzy and he won’t let go and I’m frozen. I look around to see if anyone’s coming to help- it’s the middle of the day, and there are people all around me. But no one seems to know what’s going on. He’s laughing and I finally manage to get him off me, but not before his fingers brush my breast and I grab his hand and turn it into a handshake. He acts like nothing happened, laughs again, and asks if we met again would I say hello to him. I just want him to go away, so I sit down and stare at the ground and nod. He says “I’m leaving now. I’ll be at so-and-so place, then I’ll head home. It’s going to rain soon. You should go inside.” Then he leaves, looking behind him and waiting like he expects me to follow. As soon as he turns the corner it pours. I call my friend and insist he comes to get me, but he can’t get to me for another hour, so I am forced to wait in the train station, sobbing, while four other random men corner me and attempt to get my number. Apparently creeps can smell vulnerability.
Submitted by Miga
1. I was 17, well before cell phones. Walking down the street in Cambridge with two girlfriends. A car slowed behind us, rolled along for a short while. There was a bar up ahead and we thought perhaps they were going there. The car pulled into a parking spot in front of the bar and two men got out and began walking behind us. “Hey, what’s your name? Where are you going? Hey pretty…” non-stop, though we brushed them off. Crossed the street, they did too. Soon we realized we were headed towards the Charles River, not a good place to have two creepy men follow you at night.
Kept crossing streets, turning, picking up speed, and they just kept up with us, calling after us. We came across a cab at a streetlight and dove into the back, asking the driver to drive anywhere.
2. Walking to school in London, 8am. A van pulls up at a traffic light and a man opens the side door, “hey beautiful, get in!” “No.” “You ugly bitch, get in the van.” “Fuck off.” “Awwww, c’mon pretty. Don’t you want to go for a ride?” My cross light turned, they were stuck at the light, I managed to slip away.
3. Also walking to school in London. Pass by a buss stop with a group of middle school boys waiting at it. “Hey gorgeous, nice legs.” Are you kidding me? A child!? I asked him where his mother was, which shut him up.
4. Late night London, two men in a car pull up as a friend and I are walking to the bus. They say all sorts of nasty things and try to coerce us into the car. Follow us along for blocks until we found an open kebab shop to duck into. One followed us in. We watched our bus stop and made a run for it when the bus pulled up.
5. Also was followed home in London, no comments, just followed and then he banged on the door of the apartment building for awhile. After that every time we were followed (not uncommon) we kept walking up the street to a night club where we knew the bouncer.
6. Seattle: Waiting outside a bar for a friend. A man walking down the street swerves towards me, comes right up in my face and hisses: “pull my panties off with your teeth…” Ugh.
7. Seattle: Walking to the bus (again!). Man standing on street: “Hey, are you a guy or a girl?” I opt not to respond. As I get closer, “oh look, a girl. Hey, you’re really pretty.” I stay silent, keep walking. As I pass him, “Hey, you should grow your hair out.” Keep walking; hear from a distance as I go, “hey, you should gain some weight though.” Thanks man.
8. Seattle: A man is standing talking to a another man, who I know. I give them a look as I pass by them as I caught them talking about someone being cute. As I pass the man says to my acquaintance, “she’s cute too.” My acquaintance says, “yeah she is. She’s married though.” (Thanks. I love being talked about like I’m not even there.)
9. Seattle: A man starts hitting on a friend outside a club. Won’t take no for an answer. Grabs her arm and tries to pull her into a cab. I jumped in, pulled him off her, yelled, and the two of us retreated back inside. A crowd of people watched this, including a bouncer. No one said anything.
10. Bonus, San Francisco style: Walking with my husband. A man says “hey, why you with that guy? Why don’t you give this a try?” My husband thought that was pretty rude. I wrote it off as yet another day where I left my house.
And those are just a start. Reading this site I am flooded with memories over the past 20 years and how angry, vulnerable, and diminished it always makes me feel.
Submitted by KM
I wish I’d found this site weeks ago. My roommate and I had gone out for drinks at our favorite pub, hoping to chat with a few of the regulars we’ve become close to while studying abroad. As we’re sitting there, this group of Belfast men, most old enough to be my father, begin beckoning me over. I refuse and try to ignore them, but every time the come up to the bar, they plant themselves on either side of my chair and press close. I continue to try to ignore them, only keeping my hand on my purse, because the area we’re living (and drinking) in has had a recent spike in pickpocketing. By now, my regular friends are beginning to get annoyed. One has been telling them off and another takes up fighting stance when two of them decide it’ll be a good time to spin me around. I tell my friends to ignore them, they aren’t worth it and try to return to my conversation when the youngest throws his arms around my shoulders and my roommate’s and starts begging us for kisses and both of us are telling him about the boyfriends we’ve left back in the states (convenient fibs about guys who we’ve both just recently turned down). These jerks just won’t let up, though and when I lean across the bar to tell the bartender (another friend and woman) that they’re all mad and I’m getting freaked, one tries to shove his fingers up my rear through my (knee-length, 3/4 sleeve) dress and black tights. I scream and nearly jump the bar and promptly hide and then the youngest tries to come around the bar when my roommate has finally told him that it he doesn’t get off, she’ll break his nose (she could and would do it, too). When I tell him he and his friends are making me uncomfortable and I don’t appreciate having my butt grabbed, he makes a grab for me and I jump away. He only managed to get my hip. At this point, the bartender kicks them all out (except for one drunken lout who’s so hammered he passes out and cuts his head open on the bar). I wish I’d said more. I wish I’d told them what pathetic, dirty little toads they all were.
I found out later that week they were living in our building. We both avoid the courtyard like there’s a 20 starving Komodo Dragons living out there, except I think these guys are scarier!
Submitted by Alicia
I’m a New Yorker, but was living in Paris seven years ago. I guess I felt pretty confident in my street smarts because I had endured countless cat calls/random verbal harassment for years.
I was walking home late at night after my friends left me off of a cab a few blocks from my house, and two somewhat thuggy looking guys in their 20s approached me. They were looking to “party” and wanted me to have a drink with them. I told them no thanks, and went on my way. They could tell I wasn’t French via my accent and followed after me, cajoling and cat calling. I tried to ignore them and kept walking but they were really being persistent, so I told them to “piss off” while looking down and trying to find my keys and hurry away. One grabbed me and shoved me against the wall — at this point I had turned a corner onto a not so well lit street (stupid) about a block from my apartment, and there was no one around. The friend said something like “leave her be” and then ran off. I was struggling with the main guy, who was big (I’m not tiny either, 5’6″/130lbs) and he had me pinned to the wall with his hands like vice grips on my arms and his body pressing against me, I have no idea how long that went on, but he kept getting angrier and all I can really remember is how strong he was and him trying to kiss me (violently…so I guess more like head-butting my face) and how he kept saying how pretty I was.
I was absolutely terrified and have never had an adrenaline rush like that. The rest just happened so fast I barely remember the sequence, instinct took over (I had taken kick boxing and martial arts on and off for years): I managed to get my knee up and kneed him in the groin. He let go, and I elbowed him from above in the back of the neck, coming down with most of my weight — like they teach you to. I remember him on the ground but moving and guess I must have ran, and fast. It was only then I noticed I had been screaming. I had lost a shoe in the scuffle but I got to my door very quickly. I buzzed all the bells and someone let me in because I was crying and shaking too hard to get my keys out. I had a fat split lip, a bruised/scraped cheekbone, arms and bloody scraped elbows. But beyond that, I was a nervous wreck. I would jump at anything and was so jittery and on edge. I was 23 and it took about 6 months to feel safe enough to go out at night again, even with friends. Nothing happened, they never found the guy and as soon as I told the cops I had been drinking and walked home alone they were like: “Oh, you’re OK, no big deal.” As though somehow it was par for the course.
I’m 30 now, and back in NYC. I tell all my friends to take self-defense classes or some kind of martial art. It’s really so so so important to know how to defend yourself. It’s best not to put yourself in stupid situations, yes, take a cab all the way to your door. But inevitably I find myself every now and again on a dark/empty street at night and get chilled thinking about what could happen if…
As women, we are smaller than men and need to know how to defend ourselves, end of story. Even psychologically it’s important not to feel like a victim. I don’t know what would have/could have happened that night or what that guy thought he was going to do on the street like that, but I was so thankful to have had some defensive training that took over, like auto-pilot. I had thought that martial arts were “fun”, I did karate instead of ballet as a kid and then took up kickboxing in college. Before my attack, I really didn’t appreciate how insanely important it is to know how to defend yourself.
I’m glad to see a forum like this and I hope that we can give/get strength in numbers and shared experiences. Be strong ladies!
Submitted by Sarah