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
It happened a few years ago while I was in college. I was working as a waitress at a busy restaurant/bar in town and would usually get home around 1:30 am. One night I came home at the usual time, took a shower and went to bed. The next morning I find a business card stuck to my door from a local police officer asking me to contact him ASAP. I called the precinct, and he tells me that a man was arrested the night before for masturbating outside of my window. Apparently, some people at a party in the next building saw him from their balcony and called the police. I was listening to my iPod when I went to bed, so I never heard the cops knock on my door.
Incidentally, I always have my curtains closed, but apparently there was an opening at the bottom where they overlapped (about the size of a quarter, according to the cops who were at the scene), so he could see into my bedroom through this limited space. As the officer is telling me this, I realize that this man saw me completely naked after my shower the night before and watched me rub lotion all over myself, too, so apparently he got quite a show.
The officer tells me the guy’s name and asks if I know him. He says that the day before this “peeping” incident the man had been released from prison where he had been serving time for a sex crime. I don’t recognize the man’s name or description, but now I am panicking. This perv knows where I live, where I work (due to my waitress uniform), what kind of car I drive, and he can probably guess that at the end of the night I come home with an apron full of cash…plus he’s a convicted sex offender. I ask the officer if I can see the guy’s mug shot, to see if I recognize him from the restaurant, and so I will know who he is if I see him anywhere near me, and he says no, that he’s not allowed to show me a photo because it would be a violation of the guy’s rights! So this guy can look at my fully naked body without my knowledge or consent, but I can’t look at his face after he’s been arrested for peeping and wanking outside of my window. So glad that his rights weren’t violated!
I seriously feared for my safety after that. I felt so exposed, and not just because he had seen me naked, but because I felt that I was denied the option to protect myself. This guy was a convicted criminal with a history of sexually assaulting women! I hated not knowing if he was out there following me or watching me again– maybe I had even unknowingly waited on him? I never spent another night at that apartment and moved three weeks later. I also never heard back from the police about the case. When I called to follow up, I was told that the charges had been dropped due to a lack of “evidence”, meaning that he had not left a DNA sample at the scene. He had been interrupted by the police approaching and so he never finished, and apparently the statements from my neighbors weren’t proof enough of his crime. I hope with all my heart that I was the last woman he violated, but somehow I doubt it.
Submitted by Anne
Little else is as sweet and satisfying as holla’ing back or attending free film screenings. So do both on Thursday and call it a night.
“Hey, baby.” “How’s it going, puss?” Though women have made enormous progress in public and private domains, the street represents a final frontier, a space where women are routinely hollered after, harassed, and humiliated. The Last Word is an unflinching look at public harassment from the perspective of women who know.
Come mingle with HollaBack staffers, filmmakers, revolutionaries, and other straphangers on Thursday, June 3, for an evening of five free short film screenings at the New School’s Tishman Auditorium. Admission is free and no reservations are required.
66 W. 12th St. (at 5th Ave.)
For more information or to see the festival’s full lineup, holla here.
This is the twelfth video in the “Why I Hollaback” series. “Why I Hollaback” tells the story of how and why folks decide to take the leap, speak up, and start Holla’ing back. We will release a new story every Monday and accept submissions from all over the world. So tell us your story — Why do you Hollaback?
Well folks. I’m sorry. It’s a sad day….for turds everywhere!
WE DID IT! WE DID IT! WE DID IT!
YOU did it!! YOU donated, YOU thought about donating, YOU wanted to donate, YOU told your friends, YOU blasted your networks, YOU blogged about it, YOU stood up and said NO, I won’t sit idly by anymore, YES it is time for some change, YES I WANT TO HELP. So congratulations for supporting this kick-ass, international MOVEMENT. You just made history! And it’s not over yet. This is just the beginning. So hollaback and let us know how you want to keep helping!
And most importantly, THANK YOU. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Today is a good day. Music, credits, victory dance, and CELEBRATE.
Final Score: Humans $13,375; Animals ZERO
Thanks for all the work you are doing in the city. I sent you a story a while back and wanted to relay another disgusting event to you.
I live in Queens and I was going home a little late getting on the 7 at Grand Central and this guy in a suit was like walking really close down the stairs behind me. So I stopped right at the bottom of the stairs where the train pulls up and he walked to my left like 20 feet away and I could tell the perv was staring at me. It took a long time for the train to get there and he was staring at me the whole time. So the train pulls up and all the sudden he is like RIGHT on my ass like pushing me in. I got in and there was a corner seat by the connecting door open so I sat there thinking he couldn’t rub up on me there. So he comes and stands right in front of me and is looking right down my top.
He was like 35, 6 feet, really good looking, wavy black hair with a wedding ring on. If you guys see him watch out. So I see that his hand is moving in his right pocket and he starts flicking his tongue at me. I was fuckin repulsed and like no one could even see him cause he had me in the corner. I am like 5’1″ and I was scared so I didn’t do anything but pretend he wasn’t there.
I could see his hard on and him rubbing it in his pants. He was like mumbling stuff too. I know one time he said o so u like that huh? It was so obvious. He was also like tapping my shoe with his foot like HEY look up at me jerking off and staring at you. My stop was 2 stops away but when the next stop came up I got up and got off. He purposely blocked me and groped my boob on the way out. I was scared and pissed too. This was on Monday and I havent seen him since. I cant wait to get the phone app you are putting out. I tried to get a pic but the train pulled away as I was trying to get his picture. You can share this story because I think it might help anyone else on that line at night.
Thanks for all your help.
Submitted by Krista
Today is the last day of our campaign! If you haven’t donated yet, do it now. We’ve got $1700 to raise and only one more day to do it! If we don’t raise the remaining $1700, we don’t get any of the $10,800 that we’ve raised from over 299 visionaries. Check out the preliminary photos of the app we released yesterday.
Tell your friends and family about this: email, facebook, and twitter the link to our campaign to let them know you believe a world without street harassment is possible, one hollaback at a time. Also, If you’ve already donated, consider increasing your donation. If everyone who has already donated increased their donation by $6, we would be there.
You have the power to end street harassment. Do it!
Dear HollaBack and all you women who like to chill in Central Park this summer,
I want to warn you about a wanker I encountered this past weekend:
On Saturday afternoon, I went back to a really lovely spot on the shore of the lake just a few paths in from the West 77th Street entrance — plenty of rocks to climb and sit upon to read or watch the water. There’s an area at water-level where I sat down to read — people were nearby on other rocks and plenty of rowboats were out on the lake, but people kept coming and going in my immediate vicinity. After awhile, this dude sat down a couple rocks away from me and took out an electronic device — this didn’t seem weird to me, since I’d noticed plenty of people come and go with cameras, take some photos of the lake, and leave, but I couldn’t figure out if this device was a camera or not. The dude set it in his lap and stayed there for a while, and then moved to a rock right next to me slightly higher up and straddled it, with the device still in his lap. I gave him a dirty look and shifted a little farther away from him when one of his legs was only a few inches away from my head, but otherwise stayed where I was — why should I have to be the one to move? I was there first, and I was absorbed in my book, so I ignored him, figuring he was just trying to find the most comfortable place to get settled, as I had done when I’d first arrived.
After a few more minutes, he moved again, this time to a rock a few feet away, kitty-corner to mine. I thought it was weird that he sat down facing me instead of facing the lake, but again I didn’t say anything, because he wasn’t actively bothering me and I just wanted to keep reading my book. Still, I was trying to figure out what his device was, because I’m paranoid about strangers taking photos of me without my knowledge, so I wanted to be sure it didn’t have a camera — but every time I looked up, I accidentally caught his eyes through his sunglasses, and he just stared creepily back at me. Of course, that part was not a new experience — dudes staring creepily — but I was physically comfortable where I was, relaxing into my first days of summer . . . so despite the slightly uneasy feeling I got, I just chalked it up to him being an awkward dude, your usual guy on the street/subway/wherever who stares but at least doesn’t say or do anything about it.
The next time I glanced up, though, I saw that HE HAD HIS DICK OUT. His pants were all the way open, and he was hard and jerking off fast. What. The. Fuck! It was so unexpected and repulsive, all I could do was make a horrified/disgusted face, grab my things, and get the hell away from there as quickly as possible. I was extremely shaken up, so freaked out that I couldn’t even scream at him or tell anyone else nearby what was happening. I just left the park as quickly as possible, called a couple of friends to calm me down, and didn’t stop walking until I’d walked dozens of blocks back to my apartment. How long had he been doing that and I hadn’t even noticed? What kind of person thinks that is remotely okay to do? I felt disgustingly violated, and still wish I could get the nauseating image of his face and his dick out of my head. Part of me started blaming myself for not moving the hell away from there from the moment I noticed that he was sitting on rocks closer to me than any polite person would, and then another part of me has been trying to shut that voice up ever since: There is no excuse for what that dude did. I had every right to be where I was, quietly reading in my own personal space, and he had no right whatsoever to take my presence as a woman as invitation to pull his dick out and wank in front of me.
I just hope that letting other women know about him will prevent this dude from violating anyone else. Assuming that he frequents the park to do this (which of course I have no way of knowing), I hope that somebody will catch him at it and have the power to do something about it. He was a tall, white, brunette, thirtysomething dude in shorts, wearing sunglasses and carrying an Insignia DVD Player (which I finally figured out did not have a camera), if that helps at all. If a dude sits near you when obviously there are other places to sit, I hope you have the voice I didn’t to tell him to move the fuck away. I assumed the best in this dude — that he was just an awkward guy trying to get comfortable on a nice day in the park — when really there are way more creeps who actually think it’s okay to pull their dicks out and do this in public, in front of or even on women. I know there are decent men in this world, but (from my own experiences and from reading other infuriating HollaBack posts here) this city keeps trying to prove me wrong.
Thank you so much for this forum to share my experience, even if you don’t end up posting it on the site, although I really hope you will. (I know it’s kind of long, but I couldn’t figure out how to write about it all more succinctly!)
Submitted by Sarah
Two vermin on St. Marks in studded leather jackets; I thought they were a couple until….Taller one: “Hey, sexy lady”
I yelled “STOP HARASSING WOMEN! NO ONE LIKES IT! YOU’RE GOING UP ON THE INTERNET!!”
“SEE YOU ON HOLLABACKNYC.COM, SMEGMA!!!”
Shorter one: “Whore!” He wishes.
I was wearing a 3/4 sleeve top , jeans and carrying a backpack.
Submitted by ninyabruja
note: Never heard of the word smegma? Us either. According to urban dictionary it is a “buildup of skin and other crud found between the foreskin and penis.” Um, gross. But whatta great hollaback word. Take that, smegma!
I didn’t snap a photo of this guy, because I didn’t know/couldn’t believe what was happening until much later:
Two friends and I took the downtown 6 train from 86th street to 14th street, about 6:45 on Saturday evening. The train was PACKED. I was pressed up against some dude, my back to his front. I felt something around my butt, but couldn’t tell what is was–I suspected a penis, but wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. I made a face at my friends, who told me to elbow him, but I couldn’t really tell what was happening. I could feel his heart beating against my back, but again, it was crowded, sweaty, etc. Eventually I was able to move. Fine. When the train crowds eased up a bit I realized I had something on my backside, and on my legs. We got out at 14th street, went to a restaurant, and I checked the dress in the bathroom–the man definitely came on me.
I called the police the next day, and they came by my apartment to take a report, but it was mortifying–they kept questioning everythinng I said, and one officer “repeated back” to me what I had allegedly told him, not letting me correct his mistakes, and told me “I have a great memory so I know exactly what you said.” Eventually his supervisor came by, and she was nicer, and more sympathetic, but the
message was clear: why would you let someone stand that close to you, and why wouldn’t you say anything (at the time, or right afterward). The whole experience was awful, but I don’t really know what I could have done differently–I didn’t want to turn around to face the guy, and figured that SEEING him would be worse than feeling him, but I had no idea that he must have had his penis out.
Completely disgusting, and the cops’ attitude made it worse.
Submitted by Sarah
This is the eleventh video in the “Why I Hollaback” series. “Why I Hollaback” tells the story of how and why folks decide to take the leap, speak up, and start Holla’ing back. We will release a new story every Monday and accept submissions from all over the world. So tell us your story — Why do you Hollaback?