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Anonymous’s Story: Concert

Feeling uncomfortable at a concert with flashing and groping.

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Anonymous’s Story: “Alone”

As a graduate student, I was walking into the post office on campus when a man ran across the street and followed me in to tell me I had a “great ass.”  I felt threatened, objectified, unsafe, and alone.

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Anonymous’s Story: “Nauseous”

8:30am.  Walking down a wide tree lined street in a suburban neighborhood passing large but cozy houses.  Sort of McMansion Jr’s.  A boy, maybe 16 or 17 years old, walks towards me on this otherwise vacant street.  We lock a gaze and as I look into his greyish blue eyes, I feel an odd cold tingling of “off-ness” in his stare.  I look away and as he passes me he grabs my shoulders so I stop.  He then squeezes my breasts hard in his hands, and lets go and runs fast away from me.  I remain stunned.  Heart racing.  Nauseous.

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Anonymous’s Story: Rude

I was walking back from the dining hall on my campus with a friend.  There is a place called “the hangout tree”–benches where a lot of male college students sit and gaze at the women that pass–so I walked by with my usual “ignore all around me” attitude.  Nevertheless, not today.  One guy said, “hey sexy baby, can I holler?”  There were five other men jeering at his friend who talked to me.  I passed by ignoring him and he shouted, “You are an ugly bitch anyway.”  I felt so annoyed and pissed off I couldn’t say anything about how f**cking rude he was.

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Anonymous’s Story: So he knew what it was like

I am on the train to Nambour, Queensland, Australia. This creep got on the train and started staring. Blatant staring, not even pretending not to. Then he took two pictures. He left the picture taking sound on his phone on, I think because he wanted me to know what he was doing. I took one back, and then started staring at him so he knew what it was like, and that I wasn’t going to be intimidated. I kept staring. He got off the train shortly after.

 

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Theresa’s Story: Stop staring!

I was driving to my home in Lafayette, LA, when this guy pulls up next to me and yells “woohoo” at me, really loudly, startling me.  My windows were down.  He was driving next to me for a few seconds i guess, staring at me, trying to get me to look at him.  When I didn’t he passed to get in front of me, and then started swerving purposefully, I guess for attention.  It was really obnoxious, and as I don’t have an air conditioner in my car and am frequently driving with my  windows down, this unfortunately happens kind of frequently.  Never when my husband is in the car, of course.  I am so sick of this. I took a picture of the guy in his truck; I will send it as well.

Thanks for the opportunity to submit my story, and thanks for the work you do!

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Anonymous’s Story: “Uncomfortable”

A garbage truck stopped on the corner on this busy neighborhood street. While the guys in the back were doing their job, the drive was yelling “Hey Shorty!” out of his window to a young woman walking on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. Her arms were crossed, trying to ignore it, and the guys in the truck were smiling and laughing, having a good ol’ time. Get back to work and stop making the taxpayers that pay your salary uncomfortable!

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Anonymous’s Story: “Low-lifes”

Such a gorgeous day and a nice lunch in the park, ruined by a group of low-lifes cat calling passers by at Waverly pl and Broadway.

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Anonymous’s Story: “He did not stop looking”

I’m sitting on the bus and I look up to see this older man stare at me. He did not stop looking until I zippered my jacket and covered my chest.

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Anonymous’s Story: No peace

After parking in a parking garage, I was walking down the street to get to my destination. I purposely crossed the street to avoid walking past a group of construction workers, even though I didn’t have to. I watched as they all leered at a young woman who had been in front of me before I crossed. She chose to just break out her phone and text to avoid eye contact. At this point my blood was already boiling a bit. When I got to the building I needed to enter, I had to cross the street again. A group of 3 guys whiplashed their necks to check out that same girl as she passed them. When they got to me, I saw smiles and stares from the corner of my eye and heard “C’mon, smile baby” just as we crossed paths. I kept walking, up to the door, but said “Shut the f**k up” real loud. His friend said something like “oooh, dang” and laughed that the street harasser wasn’t enough of a player or something, instead of oh, I don’t know: apologizing for his friend, telling his friend to shut up, laughing at how idiotic street harassment really is. It took a while to calm down. I KNEW that this other young woman, nor myself, could just walk down the street on warm, sunny day in peace.


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