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BY EMILY MAY
Here’s a short video I made with my mom and my aunts this weekend in support of Saudi Women’s driving rights (and yes, I was raised by a pack of women):
Hollaback is partnering with “Honk for Saudi Women” and we encourage to to show your support by making a short video! Here’s how it works:
Videos take minutes to make:
1.) Just say you support Saudi Women’s Driving Rights
2.) Honk (if you can’t film in a car, just say “beep-beep”)
Upload to YouTube, send video link to [email protected] and put http://chn.ge/HonkForSaudiWomen in the video description.
US House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi has publicly expressed her support for “Honk for Saudi Women.” Saudi Princess Ahmeerah wants to drive; Secretary of State Hillary Clinton publicly backs Saudi Women’s Driving Rights; and over 1500 people have asked Oprah to make a “Honk for Saudi Women” video .
Beep, beep! Let’s make a world where everyone has the right to walk or drive safely and confidently!
Help us reach our goal by spreading the word! Here are some suggested emails and tweets. And as always, thank you so much for your support! We couldn’t do it without you.
Email: A personal email from you is the most effective strategy. Here’s an example of what you could send:
Dear friends and family-
As you may already know – I’m a huge fan and supporter of Hollaback!. Hollaback! is an international movement to end street harassment (sexual harassment in public space). Over the past year the organization grown like wildfire to 24 cities in 10 countries, and it seems that this is only the beginning.
They just launched this new campaign called “I’ve Got Your Back.” The campaign is designed to get bystanders to intervene when they see someone being harassed. “I’ve Got Your Back” takes Hollaback!’s work to the next level by providing a real-time response to those who are harassed. How it works:
I’m really excited about this new campaign, and I think it has the ability to change the way we experience public space. Street harassment can be incredibly scary, and it disproportionately impacts young folks, women, and LGBTQ individuals. By having each other’s backs – we aren’t just providing real-time relief to people who are harassed – we are strengthening our community.
I hope you’ll donate. With every donation made to this campaign, Hollaback!’s Board of Directors will match it 1:1, so if you donate $25, it’s really $50.
Thanks so much in advance —
You and your awesome self!
Suggested tweets and status updates: Autoschedule a tweet a day to make sure your followers get the message, and don’t forget to tag us so we can retweet and thank you! Here are some suggestions:
Twitter: It’s gonna take all of us to end street harassment. Invest in it with @ihollaback’s “I’ve got your back” campaign: http://bit.ly/m7spul
Twitter or Facebook: I donated to @iHollaback’s “I’ve got your back” campaign and you should too!
Facebook: What if street harassment happened you weren’t alone? What if that guy at the other end of the train, or down the street, had your back? @hollaback!’s new “I’ve got your back” campaign is going to make this happen, but they need your help. Link: http://bit.ly/m7spul
Thank you so much for all your ongoing support and to all of you who have already donated! We’re gonna win this, and it’s going to be because of you.
Reposted from Hollaback Philly
Pride and street harassment against the LGBTQ community have been weighing most heavily on my mind this weekend, especially since I got a text from a friend on her way to Pride that read “Just crossed the NJ/NY line in the tunnel and couldn’t help but think how fucking strange it is that equality exists on one side of the line and not the other”. So, suffice it to say I was ecstatic when I saw a lesbian street harassment scene on my beloved show, True Blood, tonight!!
Which one makes me more of a nerd – that I’m obsessed with HBO’s True Blood, or that I paused the episode when I saw the street harassment scene so I could quickly transcribe it and post it for you all? No need to answer that question.
Scene: Tara is outside the backdoor of a venue (no one else is there) after winning a boxing match. The girl who lost the match comes out to where Tara is smoking a celebratory cigarette. They start kissing and a few seconds into their kiss, a drunk man approaches and starts staring, moans and interrupts them.
Man: “Don’t mind me. I don’t want to distract from the show.”
Girl: Looks at the man, and says “Go on, fuck off.”
Man: He walks toward them from behind the fence. “You taking requests? I’ll give you ten if you eat each other out, that’s what, umm, five each.”
Girl: -I couldn’t make out the first bit, but the last bit she says “I don’t take requests, but I can crush your spine so bad you’ll be sucking your own dick”.
Tara: holds the girl back, “It doesn’t matter, he won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”
Man: “I will if i get me some of that chocolate banana swirl how about 20 dollars
Girl: “That’s it, pervert, we’re not fucking prostitutes.”
Man: “Come on, everyone’s got a price.”
Girl: (angrily heads toward the man) “That’s it!” (Tara holds her back).
Tara: Walks right up to the man, and calmly says “I’m sad for you buddy. Sad that you gotta hassle women on the street, sad that you gotta make a asshole of yourself for the attention, sad that you gotta offer money cuz there ain’t nothing else about you that’s worth loving.” Takes the $50 bill. “That’s for me not reporting you for solicitation”.
If only she would have whipped out her cell phone, taken a picture of the drunken asshole, and Holla’d back to us!! Bravo HBO!
I was coming home on the train to Astoria around 4am from Union Square. I had two or three drinks at a bar, so I was leaning on the window frame instead of sitting up strait. I believe this is when my attacker noticed me. I first noticed him when there were few people left in the train besides he and I. He was seemingly around 24 or 25, slim, wearing a long grey coat and a hat with a brim, slacks and loafers. He seemed like a young professional also returning home.
He was sitting down in the seat slumped against the wall of the train, as though he was sleeping, so that I couldn’t see his face because of the brim of his hat. I now realize that he didn’t want to show me his face because he had probably already picked me out for attack. When we got to the 35th street station, there were only he and I left in the train. I got out, and he got out onto the platform with me, behind me. It was December and there was snow on the ground.
I felt a little bit creepy with him behind me and tried to walk as fast as I could to the stairs to get to the turnstile and the clerk in the booth. All of a sudden, I heard his feet running behind me. I thought he would run right by me, that he was in a hurry. I was wrong.
He tried to tackle me to the ground from behind, encircling my arms and the top half of my body. I am deceptively heavy and strong, so he was unable to take me down. As soon as I felt this, I began screaming at the top of my lungs “Noooooo you don’t! Oh noooooo!”. I twisted about 4 or 5 times and broke his grip on my upper body.
I stood straight up and tried to see him, but he was out of my view. I had no time to do anything else because he jumped toward me and began punching me in the temples. I was struck about 5 times hard in each temple, as though he were a boxer and my head the bag- just that fast. I was stunned for a second in which he grabbed the collar of my jacket from behind and pulled me to the ground. I felt myself going down and shrieked the loudest scream of my life that went on for over a minute. I rolled on my back and kicked over the top of my head towards him, and he jumped away. I flipped my legs down and continued to scream and scream. Finally I was silent, just looking at him. I got my first glimpse of his face- he had the hood of his coat over the upper part of his face, but I could see the lower part of his face. He had huge lips, that was the only distinguishing feature I could make out.
When I went silent, he stood looking at me and then said in a quiet, wooden tone “shut up, bitch. shut up.” He then reached down and grabbed my purse which had fallen on the ground, and then trotted away with a gait that I swear looked like a jackal.
Luckily my house keys had fallen to the ground in the scuffle, so I still had them. I grabbed them off the ground and walked down the stairs to the booth with the subway clerk. I said “I just got attacked, didn’t you hear me scream?” The clerk didn’t say anything to me except “I call police” and then let me sit in a small room. I was shaking uncontrollably, and crying. My boyfriend at the time came to get me.
The police showed up and asked for the guy’s description. They drove me around the block once but didn’t see him and gave up trying. They were a joke. They then called the ambulance which came to pick me up, and I was charged $500 for this, to go 3 or 4 blocks to the hospital. I couldn’t pay the bill and it’s still on my credit rating now. I know I should have applied for it to be paid by the city but I couldn’t do that at the time because I went into a deep depression after this happened.
I was taken to the hospital and X rayed, and it was found that I was ok except for bruises on my temples. The guy had been trying to go for a knock-out blow, that much is clear. What would have happened if he had succeeded? I don’t want to think about that. I will always feel deep in my gut that this attack was sexual in nature, because if it was just a robbery or an assault, why knock me out? Why the push to get me on the ground? I think it was a rapist who wanted an unconscious victim.
I am an artist so I drew a picture of the lower portion of my attacker’s face that I saw. I brought it with me to the police station when I went in. They refused to accept it. They said it would draw all kinds of suspects who were not responsible- WTF??? There’s not too many men out there with lips, jaw and nose exactly that shape, and that particular color and that weight. It’s unbelievable that they wouldn’t accept my drawing.
They also classified what happened as a mugging, not an attempted rape. They said there was no evidence. I couldn’t believe what jerks they were. I looked for him in a book of suspects but didn’t see anyone I thought looked like him. I was never called back about this by anyone- but I was harassed for months about the bill for the ambulance, X-rays, etc. I never paid them.
I had anxiety for three years after this happened, but after a period of about 6 months of extreme good health and yoga every week I was able to alleviate that. It took a lot from my life but I reclaimed my life. But every once in a while when my head is tilted as it was when I was on the ground looking up at my attacker, I get a stab of anxiety. That head position will trigger it.
I have fantasies of seeing my attacker on the street and bashing his head in with a pole or bat, or zapping him with a stun gun and then kicking his head in. He definitely deserves it. What was he going to do if he knocked me out? Carry my body somewhere? Assault me and then roll me onto the tracks? This man deserves Hell, and I will surely give it to him if I ever find him.
If you believe in calling sexual harassment what it is, stand with us as we demand accountability from law enforcement and invest in a future where women and men are safe on the streets, Click here!
I decided to go on a run one night along the well-lit path beside Campbell Avenue, so I put on my usual running outfit (shorts and one of my “Legalize Gay” shirts). It was a nice night, and plenty of other runners and bikers were out enjoying the warm weather. About 15 minutes into my run, two bikers came up beside me and matched my pace. I smiled at them as they got closer to me, and I noticed them talking though I couldn’t hear them over the traffic. Once they were beside me, I could hear, “Hey bitch, slow down.” I sped up and moved away from the street. They continued to follow me to the end of the block, repeating, “Get back here, whore!” I was coming up on a gravely hill that I planned on detouring to in order to avoid their bikes, and they continued: “Fucking dyke, maybe if you suck my dick, you won’t be so stupid.” I finally got to the hill and began sprinting, and one of them threw a bottle that hit my head. They didn’t follow me any longer as I made my way back to the emergency room.
If this story makes you as angry as it makes us, consider being productive with your anger and donating to the “I’ve got your back” campaign.
After spending a half an hour or so reading the stories on the Holla Back website and watching the videos (“and that’s why I Holla Back”) earlier today, my boyfriend and I went to the park. We were sitting on a blanket in the grass reading our respective books and eating food. I was laying down on the blanket wearing a knee-length summer dress when my boyfriend moved over and asked me to switch sides of the blanket with him. He whispered that the man eating his food about ten feet away from us was staring at me and he wanted to block the guy’s view. I thought he was exaggerating a little, but I felt relieved when the man left. Another 20-30 minutes later, he came back. He was wearing a backpack and had stringy blondish hair. I felt him looking at me, but kept my head down and continued reading. When I got up and walked across the park to get some water from the water fountain and walked back to the blanket, I realized he never took his eyes off of me. He even changed his seating positions to get a better view of me. It was enough, I told my boyfriend that I felt uncomfortable and he agreed that it was time to go, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this website. I stood up and looked him right in the eyes. “Will you please stop staring at me?!” I purposely said it in a loud voice so the couple sitting on the blanket near us and the mothers playing with their children nearby could hear me. He said “I wasn’t staring at you.” My boyfriend and I packed up our stuff to go, but before we left I turned around and told the creep “There’s a whole fucking park, stare somewhere else!” My boyfriend flicked him off and the jerk yelled back “Stop being so self-conscious!” I was being self-conscious? He was way more conscious of my ‘self’ than I was. As we left, a man laying on the grass said “Don’t worry about him, he’s always here. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
Yes, he was only looking at me. Yes, it’s a public place and he is allowed to be there just as much as I am. But my gender is not an invitation to stare, to evaluate, to fantasize, to fetishize, to stare at my body. As we left the park, my boyfriend told me to stop talking about the incident, not to let that pervert ruin my whole day. But I said no. I want to talk about it, I want to discuss how to deal with a situation like the one we experienced. Is it better to ignore the harasser, allowing them to continue their creepy little game but not giving them the attention they so desperately want? Or is it better to do what I did, calling out their inappropriate behavior to bystanders but giving them more attention than they actually deserve? This website has taught me that the calling them out is more empowering, more influential, it proves that we are not the passive objects that these street harassers think we are. And the fact that he’s ALWAYS there? The fact that the women walking their dogs and little girls running through the water park area in their bathing suits in this park every day are doing so under the watchful eye of a strange staring man DOES NOT make me feel better. It doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t make me stop worrying. It makes me want to do more. So thank you, considerate bystander. Thank you for doing nothing, and for proving to me that I must do twice as much, ten times as much, because I live in a world where the only way to stop street harassment is to Holla Back!
To help build a world where the may laying in the grass would have said, “I’m so sorry that happened to you, is there anything I can do?” instead of minimizing the situation by saying, “he didn’t mean anything by it,” donate to the “I’ve got your back” campaign today. We’ve only got 11 days to go!
I was out with a female friend of mine on Tuesday. We went to a local piano bar and were having some drinks and singing to the music. I was standing and a man had come and talked to my friend. While I was minding my own business singing and dancing a creep grabbed a handful of my butt. I immediately turned and started swinging. I got him twice in the chest and kicked at him to get him away. The blows that I landed were of minimal impact and caused no damage to him, but it startled him. I told him, “Don’t fucking touch me!” he said, “I was just trying to light your fire.” Ugh, gross. I said, “You’re disgusting, don’t put your hands on me.” He apologized several times and disappeared.
Maybe I’m not right by reacting physically, but I’m still proud that I stood up for myself. I’ve never acted so aggressively and people don’t think that a small girl like myself would defend herself. I guess now that guy knows better.
To help build a world where this story would have also included some amazingly supportive bystanders, donate the “I’ve got your back” campaign. Only 11 days to go!
I was uptown alone, waiting in front of a movie theatre for a movie to start, when I noticed an old man staring at me. This continued for a few moment, so I decided to walk past him in order to walk to a nearby store. When I passed, he touched my shoulder and said that I looked pretty, in what seemed to be the creepiest voice he could muster. I decided to ignore him and walk away.
He followed me down the street to the store I was going to, and he waited outside while I browsed. I ended up calling a friend to come to the store and walk out with me, so I wouldn’t pass by him alone.
I hope it doesn’t happen again.
To help build a world where this truly doesn’t happen again, donate to the “I’ve got your back” campaign. Only 11 days to go!
I was in the bedding aisle of Target when a large, tall man starting coming down the aisle. I moved my cart so he could pass by and as he did I heard him say something. The only word I can make out was “attractive”. I said, “Excuse me?” and he, unabashedly yet creepily, repeated himself, “You are a VERY attractive woman”. I responded, “I find that VERY offensive”. He began to apologize as he shuffled down the aisle (it was apparent he was not actually shopping for anything), and I decided to give him more of a piece of my mind. I told him that women don’t appreciate those comments, that my husband wouldn’t either, and that it was highly inappropriate. I quickly walked away and found a Target employee who, thankfully, responded quickly and sympathized with my distress. He called a security officer. The verified that the man left the store and offered to stay with me while I shopped and to walk me to my car.
What enraged me about this is that men are able to shop without being approached or made to feel uncomfortable. But because I am a woman, I cannot shop in peace.
To help build a world where more stories end with bystanders as supportive as this Target employee, donate to the “I’ve got your back” campaign. Only 11 days to go!
My story is not as traumatic as some of the others, but it affected me greatly in two ways. First, we live in a small town, where, mostly, people are friendly and polite. More importantly, my young daughters and their friend witnessed it – not the way I want them to know the world.
We often ride bikes to a local convenience store to get some exercise and a frozen drink. The girls (ages 10 and 13) and I like to sit in front of the store to rest and watch cars go by. We each pick a color of a car and count the passing cars to see who tallies the most. Innocent summer evening fun. Since it’s a friendly community, the girls often wave to cars and vice versa.
One day the girls waved to a pickup truck with a young couple inside. The male driver yelled “Slut” at them. The girls looked at me and asked what he said. I told them he yelled “Squirt”, but they didn’t believe me.
The incident came up quite a few times over the next week. They don’t understand why somebody could say something so hurtful to them. I said that he was probably hurtful and rude to many people. My youngest daughter said “he wouldn’t have yelled at a boy. And if he did, if we were boys, he would have picked a different word. Boys can’t be sluts.”
It upset me that in this crucial phase when they are learning what it will mean to be a young woman, instead of a little girl, that they already have encountered a man who is disrespectful to women.
To help build a world where being a woman isn’t defined by being yelled some rude thing by some drive-by creep, donate to the “I’ve got your back” campaign.