I was standing on the platform waiting for the train when I noticed that a small man had leaned on a pillar near me. He was a little too close, so I just took a few steps away and continued to wait. A few minutes later I realized that it looked like he was masturbating. Just from my peripheral vision, I saw what looked like him touching his fully exposed genitals. All I wanted to do was get away from this creep, but as I walked away, he followed me and continued to station himself within my vicinity, and moved whenever I moved.
As the train pulled in and he walked nearer to me I yelled “You want to get the fuck away from me!” to which he responded by spitting on me.
My only instinct during this whole thing was to get away from this pervert. He exposed himself to me and followed me, and getting other people involved was the last thing on my mind. It’s kind of intimidating, and I didn’t expect to feel like that when confronted with a situation like this. I always assumed that I’d be prepared to kick someone in the balls if they ever tried something like this with me, but when the moment came I think I was in shock.
Looking back, I should have yelled and been more vocal and gotten everyone on that platform’s attention. Even though I stood up for myself by recognizing what he was doing and telling him to get away from me, I should have gone a step further.
I feel fortunate that nothing worse happened – that he didn’t try to touch me or follow me on the train – but I will be prepared to make a scene if this ever happens to me again and make sure that there is one less disgusting human being who is able to do this to other women.
Living in Brooklyn has its ups and downs….this week has most certainly hit a very low point.
The reason I haven’t updated in so long is because as I was coming home from the tattoo shop on Sunday night I was robbed at gunpoint a block away from my apartment. I was walking home on any typical night when I got grabbed from behind and put up a fight…when he realized I was or could be stronger than him (I am a 4’11” tiny girl and he wasn’t very strong and was only 3 inches taller than me) he grabbed my neck, pushed me against a parked SUV, cocked the trigger and stuck the cold barrel of the gun in my temple. At this point he humiliated me by ripping my glasses off and throwing them underneath the car and ripped my grandmothers gold ring off my finger.
“If you turn around and look at me you will fucking die tonight…I will put a bullet in your head”
I proceeded to give him my entire handbag that contained my wallet, credit cards, i.d., only 9 dollars in cash, my salon paycheck, my apartment keys, and old school iPod….but then he disgustingly patted me down…stuck his hands in my back jean pockets and grabbed my iphone G4 out of my front jacket pocket.
“I want you to walk to the end of this block…if you look back…if you look back or turn around…I will fucking kill you right now”
I wanted to break down. I wanted to scream…I went deaf with anxiety and walked to the end of the block as calm as possible…then I crossed the street and ran like I have never ran before in my life…luckily there is a police station a block away…
Getting all my shit back has become an utter nightmare…thank god my parents live in the next couple neighborhoods over so I can stay with them until I get mailed a new phone and my landlord sorts out the key situation of my apartment.
I am not sure I will ever be the same again…at least not for a while…you think you are safe until this actually happens to you. I am so lucky to not be killed or raped…I am trying to be strong and resume back to normal life….its been hard to sleep and feel relaxed but if I can’t function then the bastard wins….in the end I will get out on top and this will make me a stronger woman than I already believe I am.
Earlier today, I was sitting on the stone steps in front of the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco, right in front of City Hall, talking on my cellphone. Out of the blue, a middle-aged light-skinned bald man in green cargo pants and a white shirt walking by suddenly stopped, laid down on his belly on the sidewalk, puckered his lips, and kissed my toes (I was wearing flip-flops). I was too slow to react before he smooched, then I stood up and walked away quickly, without looking back. Ew! This behavior was definitely not ok with me! This city is full of freaks, and that’s one of the things I like about it, but there are limits and I felt dirty and violated by what that man did. Just because I am a young woman does NOT make me available for random touching from complete strangers.
My friend and I were walking back to my house from downtown Saint Petersburg, FL, last night after enjoying a glass of wine at A Taste For Wine. She and I are both attractive women. As we are walking on Central Avenue, a drunk man in his 20s walks up behind us and begins verbally harassing us. He was yelling obscenities at us and like an instant reflex, I turn around and spit in his face. He says, “I can’t believe you just spat in my face! Nobody spits in my face,” and pushes me. Three women walk over to my friend and I and begin taking up for me since they had witnessed what happened. This scares the man and he walks across the street still screaming obscenities and threatening to harm me. I get my cell phone out of my pocket and dial 9-1-1. A minute later the police are on the scene. One of the police officers gives me the option of pressing charges or make the man go home. I tell the officer that I do not wish to press charges. I am a firm believer in karma and know that it will pay this guy a visit unlike any other. I begin taking mixed martial arts this week so that the next time something like that happens, I will be prepared to defend myself.
Last weekend I was clubbing with friends and we decided to walk down the road to another club. As we left the club a man grabbed my wrist, spun me round to face him, and ground his crotch into my stomach, shouting all the while about how gorgeous I was and that I’m the perfect *size* for him. I just saw red. I shoved him and bit him and screamed bloody murder and my girlfriends joined in the attack. I struggled free and the bouncers outside the club made him step away. Dude proceeded to follow me and my girls most of the night still asking for my number.
I am a foreign student at an American university. One night, I went with friends to a fraternity lodge for a party. I was expecting to have fun, to dance, maybe even have a little drink from one of the red cups which are so prevalent in American college movies. What happened was rather different. First, let me be clear- we do not grind where I am from, we dance. Close together, yes, but the participants face each other. In grinding, if a man and a woman are dancing, the man is *behind* the woman, so that they are positioned his front to her back.
I started dancing with my friends in an area where there was slightly more space, but a guy came up behind me, grabbed me really hard at my waist, still from behind, and started grinding himself into my tailbone. His hands were pressing me against him so hard that I couldn’t get out- I’m short and his arms were stopping my arms from giving him a good elbowing. Then he put his hand on my breast, and I tried to swat him away. It worked. He moved his hand down to my skirt and under it. I was wearing tights, but still- nothing should be under my skirt if i don’t want it to be there! This time when I swatted him away he didn’t budge. Finally, he let me go after about 20 minutes of groping; I never even saw his face. My American (girl) friend thought I was being prudish. I went home and cried. I felt dirtied and cheap.
First I am a witness to these unfortunate events. I guess I was lucky in not being touched.
There was an event at an arts gallery and girls were telling me this man was inappropriately touching them. We go to confront him and he starts yelling at my friend as we are trying to get our equipment we have in his room. We start leave his room and starts rubbing a volunteers back in front of me. I ask him to stop he comes up to me like he’s gonna hug me and i hold a back pack in between us. He gets mad and slams the door. Within the hour we hear about him shoving a girl and that he touched and kissed a 16 year old girl. The man locks himself in his gallery. We go to one of the other gallery owners for help and in turn he tells us this is not the first time this man has done this. They wanted to keep it quiet because they didn’t want people to think badly of the building. If we had known before hand we would have never held our event there. We called the police, she gives her report. What I hear back from a volunteer is that since it wasn’t rape or murder the police won’t do anything. They do make the effort to come downstairs and knock on his gallery door. He doesn’t answer they leave. After the event the arts guild we worked with are only worried about their galleries and not getting into trouble. They want the “incident” kept quiet. Some stand by this man because he’s there friend and blame his alcoholism, the police are annoyed because some girls took too long to report. They didn’t know what to do. Neither did we. That building is supposed to host a local High School Arts program and that man that went around grabbing girls will be working with them. I don’t know what to do anymore.
I work in a college where there are young students, mainly between the ages of 14-23, largely from underprivileged backgrounds, council estates and disenfranchised areas. I work as a senior manager, always dress professionally in a suit, button up shirt, dark tights and low heels. I unfortunately am one of the youngest people in the organisation, despite my status as a senior manager.
I frequently have students catcalling me in the corridors, as I pass between meeting rooms. It is disgraceful if it happens once, but for it to happen constantly, despite my demure appearance is ridiculous. My policy (depending on how urgent my meetings are), is to deal with incidents then and there, professionally, using the student policies designed to support and protect staff.
Unfortunately, the last (and potentially worst) situation happened last week. I was not only catcalled in the corridor, but was followed back to my secluded office up the stairs by 3 male students, who cornered me in an office, making me feel as if I was a piece of dirt, a piece of meat- IN MY WORKPLACE.
After being chased up the stairs, I ran into the closest room, screamed, locked the door and called security straightaway. The students were inevitably suspended, but following an investigation, with findings that the male students had a good academic record, and no previous disciplinary sanctions and on the grounds that NO assault occurred, they were let off with a verbal warning.
I am furious, totally furious, and cannot face going back to a workplace that puts harassment above the safety of their staff.
I know that harassment in the street is common, but in the workplace, its deplorable and inexcusable.
Do I need to be raped before it becomes serious enough to be dealt with????
There is a man, Collin, who has followed me in his car, extremely close behind me while I’ve been biking (then got out of his car and told me what I was doing was illegal. WRONG! I have the right of way to bike in the street, just as a car). He comments on my university student columns all the time, saying awful shit and threatening things. He has done the same on Facebook (I have had to block him). I called the domestic violence shelter in town about him and they put it in their records. Luckily, he has moved to another state, but not for others. He works for an Asian woman’s agency now, too. He is threatened by feminists and he has a lot of hate toward women who speak their mind. He says he liberates Asian women (I’d like to tell him – they don’t need your liberation).
#1: I was fifteen years old, crossing a busy street in a small town. A young man leaned out the back window of a slow-moving car and yelled: “I want to f**k you!” I stopped in the middle of the street and shouted back “Marry me, Captain Romance! I want to have your babies!” He peeled rubber.
#2: I was sixteen years old, riding the # 16 bus to the ferry terminal with friends. I was the last one off at our stop, a young man stood up in front of me and started pushing me toward the back of the bus. He put his hand between my legs and grabbed my pubis. I picked him up and threw him across the bus.
#3: I was twenty-eight, walking out of a bar with a friend. A strange man tried to grab my breast as I walked past him. I grabbed his hand, threw it at him, and kept walking. When I looked back, he was gaping at me like a clubbed fish.
There were many, many more of these sorts of incidents in my teens and twenties, these are my favorites because they ended well. The others ended with me slinking off feeling contaminated and afraid. But I do think that it is perfectly okay to fight back, to hit, kick, punch and bite, if someone puts unwanted hands on my person. So I celebrate those times when I remembered to stand up for myself in the heat of the moment. It’s important.