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THE SCENE: Me, walking down Broadway between 178 and 179th streets on a 60 degree day in February, enjoying my lunch break. Mr. Man is heading my way with his buddy, and gives me an exaggerated look up and down.
Mr. Man: Yo baby, you’re gorgeous! I wanna hit that! Mmmmmmmmm…..
Me: (walking, walking, and then bam: 180) Sir, can I take your picture?
Mr. Man: Why do you want to take my picture?
Me: Because I’m taking pictures of everyone who thinks I’m pretty today.
Mr. Man: Girl, you can take my picture everyday!
The weirdest part was, as soon as I started talking to him I could sense that he wasn’t a kidnapper, rapist, or even really an asshole. He was just a confused guy with absolutely no lady skills. Still, if I hadn’t turned around for the HOLLABACK, I would have walked on feeling a little shaken and self-conscious. How I am supposed to know which are the nice guys and which just don’t get it?
Hollaback 1, Mr. Man 0.
Play better next time.
Okay, so it’s not New York or even America but whatever, it still irritated the hell out of me. I am 13. I moved to Barcelona a few months ago from London and I have found the attention here to be a lot more blatant than in England. For example: The other day I was in the park going for a walk. I was strolling through, enjoying the sights as one does when a guy of about 25 walks past, stares at me and goes “Hollllaaaaa’. When I ignore him he goes “Hola, guapa!” (Hello beautiful) and WINKS at me. I walk faster and get away, feeling freaked out but glad I’m
safe. A few minutes later, I come across him again, this time sitting on a bench. At which point he ponts his middle finger at me, SUCKS IT and gives me the most lecherous stare I have ever seen. It was only after I’d got away that I realised I should have taken a picture. It wasn’t only the way he talked to me that bothered me, it was the fact that I am blatantly a 13 year old girl, and not going to screw him. I guess the fact that afterwards I felt like kicking his head in for treating me like an object didn’t bother him.
Check out the new updates to our Holla Shame. Some of our recent favorites have just been added. Send any suggestions for other gems that should be added to email@example.com.
….and as always, keep the photos comin’!
Posted by Jennifer
My friend Mari and I had been discussing how placid our lives have become since school ended, now that we have traded the emotional highs and lows of college life for steady paychecks, steady relationships and predictable routines.
Fortunately, however, you appeared with pleasingly ironic timing to shake us out of our complacency. We were just placidly browsing along St. Mark’s Place when you suddenly told Mari and me about that very naughty thing you wanted to do with us. And not just you, but the guy who was working with you, too! Thanks!
We hurried into the store next door, and I thought about you for a few minutes (oh yes, I did). I finally decided to preserve the experience for my Internet scrapbook (i.e. my blog) by taking a photo of you with my handy camera-phone. I don’t understand why you looked so surprised. How could I let this precious moment slip by without taking a photo?
I also don’t understand why you didn’t answer me when I asked you why you said those things to us. After all, you did initiate the conversation, and I genuinely wanted to know. And I don’t understand why you got so angry when I mused out loud that it might be because you’re an ugly pervert who gratifies himself by harassing random women. After all, I thought you might also want to know how it feels to be treated like a piece of meat.
I think you should be honored to know that you’re the first man I’ve ever snapped back at. Over the three years I’ve lived in New York City, I’ve had many strange men do and say extraordinarily nasty things to me. In fact, some of the things they’ve said or done have been even nastier, and even more degrading. But you, dear sir, are the first.
I’ve been told that I should just get used to it; that, being a woman and all, I need to take it for granted that I will be harassed on the street. But while I have become a bit complacent, I like to think that I haven’t yet mutated into a doormat.
Hugs and kisses (not really),
P.S. By the way, if you’re going to sexually harass someone, try not to do it while you’re at work. I think that sock store deserves more attentive employees. Plus, with all those frilly anklets in stock, your boss might not be happy if you start scaring away the lady customers.
They were totally absorbed in their stupidass bantering (they had moved on to other targets) and didn’t even see me bust out my phone and snap a photo. It was the first time I did it and a little scary, but I encourage all the grrls to get up close for them photos if it’s safe – these fuckers need exposure & humiliation!
The one thing I find extremely difficult and unfair is the helplessness felt by women who work in the customer service industry. There are rules and regulations dealing with sexual harassment from fellow coworkers. But when the harassment comes from a
customer that we’re supposed to be nice to, what can we do?
I used to work as a cashier at Wal-Mart (or as I call it “The Den of DOOM”). There was this one guy there who would always come to my line. I saw him at least
once a week. He would acually seek me out! Once I had a technical problem with one customer’s purchase. When another cashier opened her line, everyone moved to the other line except him! I thought the creep was stalking me.
He would come up to me, and leer and stare at me. Unfortunately I had to wear a name tag so he knew my name. I’ve never heard my name sound so disgusting before. He would ask me when I got off from work, and if I would go out with him. And all I could do was be polite, say no, and try to keep busy when what I really wanted to do was tell him to back the f*** off.
The town I used to lived in at the time used to publish the names and pictures of people who had been arrested for DUI. (I guess as a way to warn others to watch for them on the road?) I saw his face in one of these columns. I wasn’t surprised, but I had noticed he had an unusual name.
One day at work a lady came up to me and asked me to page her husband to meet her at my register. Her husband’s name sounded so familiar, but it wasn’t until I saw it was The Creep walking up to her that I finally put it together! He’d been trying to spin me his tired game and he comes to find me there with *his wife*! When I saw the look on his face, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing!
The next time he tried to bothered me, I asked him how his wife was. He turned red and sped off. He never bothered me after that!
Keep up the good work!
~ Angel H.
P.S. I’d also like to mention that I am a very overweight woman. So when people say that harassment only happens to certain women or that the women should expect this kind of treatment, just point them in my direction. I have plenty of other stories to tell.