A street preacher started screaming at a passerby (a visibly queer man), saying that the passerby was a “pansy” and offended the eyes of the Lord. I stopped and questioned the street preacher, who said that the Lord “created everything.” I looked at him and said, “God sure didn’t make those shorts.” He was wearing cargo khaki shorts, people, and his boxers were sticking out at the bottom. When I pointed out this detail, he said I was lustful. I said it wasn’t lust, he started screaming at me and calling me names, and then 1 homeless person and 3 tourists sprang to my verbal defense.
As I was walking home after a long day on campus a man laid down on the road to have a look up my dress, will never forget that day…
I’m still angry today because he deserved nothing but a kick, I just stepped aside. This ill treatment of women in public spaces should stop.
Okay so lets say my names lily and when this happened I was 12 ( it really was ) I was in the shop just beside the bus stop so I pick my item and get in line, there is a group of boys older than me in front of me and are messing around saying vulgar things. Then the one closest to me turns around sees me and says to the group, “oh shit there’s a wee girl behind us” , one of them ( the ringleader) says “I don’t give a big fat juicy c*ck” and goes behind me. Then he whispers into my ear ” you’re beautiful, will you go out with me, you’re sexy, I wanna sexify you.” later on I’m still in the line and the same person says,” hey ” and pauses, his friends says lily confirming its my name and the ringleader says,” hey lily hey lily I’m gonna milk you”. Later on the bus my friend tells me I’m gonna milk you means I’m gonna rape you. I was seriously scared. The worst thing is no one helped me.
Today I was at a street festival on H Street in Washington, DC. As I was waiting for the bus to go home, I saw an elderly woman walk by, leaning on a cane for support. Suddenly, the guy who had been standing next to me walked up behind her and slapped her on the ass, then darted away into the crowd, pretending like it wasn’t him. I was shocked and disgusted. There was no goal in his action other than harassment and intimidation. She turned around and glared for a while, looking for the culprit, but no one did anything.
I wish so badly that I had yelled at the guy, or pointed him out afterwards, or gone over to the woman and told her how awful that was and shown my support. But I didn’t do anything, other than take a picture of this vile man after he had run away and crossed the street (he is the one in the striped shirt). I was surrounded by strangers, alone in a strange neighborhood. And it’s exactly this sense of making women feel like these are not their streets that is so awful and harmful. It literally affects how we feel every day when we walk down the street, whether victim or bystander. If I ever see something again, I will say something.
Some things I have learned about myself.
I am not:
An apple, waiting passively for someone to rescue me from the top of a tree.
A side of beef, to be poked at, prodded, jiggled, groped, or spoken about in terms of my juiciness, flavor, or firmness.
A dog, coming at your call.
A toy, to be used whenever and however you want.
A human being. A daughter, a sister, a friend. Someone of worth.
So I damn well better be treated like one.
I was without a lighter and walking with a cigarette in my hand, searching for somebody who was smoking, so they could lend me the fire.
As I passed by a car, a man inside it called me and asked me for my lighter. As I told him that I was also looking for one, he said: “Well, then help me pick up mine in here” as he was holding his dick on his open trouser masturbating.
I kept walking, didn’t say anything. He turned the car on and made the return on the street twice yelling things like “slut” “bitch” and “delicious”. I finally was over me and yelled him to f**k off.
When the days passed by, I could see his car on the street again, until I was alarmed enough to let the police know. I don’t know what they did, but he never came back.
I was walking west along West Grand Avenue, intending to turn left on Brush St to visit my friend’s new apartment. I was hyperaware that I was trying to walk aggressively, with my head up in confidence, to try and deter possible threats. Ahead on the sidewalk were two men, standing near the curb. I elected to not to cross to the other side of the street because at that point, West Grand Ave is six lanes of traffic separated by a median. I was trying to get to my friend’s as efficiently as possible because it was around 7:30pm and I knew it would be dark by eight. As I approached the men, one stepped back towards the building, forcing me to walk between them, or move off the sidewalk into the street. I did not break stride, but in my mind I was thinking, “Oh shit. Oh shit, are these guys going to try and f**k with me?” As I walked between them, the one that had moved towards the building stepped in front of me, grinning. Still not breaking stride, I altered my direction to go around him, and he blocked my path again. I had my head up the entire time, but now I made eye contact with him, thinking, “Are you seriously going to try and f**k with me?” I didn’t necessarily feel afraid at this moment, just incredibly angry that I had to deal with this. I like to think that this was apparent in my glare because the man broke eye contact with me and moved aside. I continued walking without looking back. The other man yelled something out at me, but I did not hear it.
I don’t know if it was my demeanor that made the men let me pass, or if their only intention was just to scare me, but I feel very lucky that I was not mugged/assaulted/groped/raped/kidnapped or any other number of possible outcomes of two men against a much smaller undefended female. I feel very lucky that my fight instinct kicked in instead of my flight instinct, and that I only felt scared by the incident several hours later.
As I was walking home from a party (note: I was very sober at the time) with three to four of my female friends, a group of about four or five (very drunk) males walked past us offering their hands up for high fives. I was in a good mood, so I obliged them, offering my hand in return. I go to a state university. This kind of exchange happens often, so I thought very little of returning their enthusiasm. After the first guy in the group high fived me, he swung his hand around and grabbed my ass. Dismayed, I started to retract my hand, only high fiving one more of his friends. His friend followed suit. Then, all three of the men I did not high five reached over and smacked my ass in turn. I was so shocked I didn’t know how to respond. None of my friends even witnessed it occurring. I was less than a block from home so I just kept walking. However, not being afraid to “hollaback” I lovingly blew them all a kiss and said “Fuck you very much!”
I’ve been continuously harassed by the same student at my four year university. I do not know this individual except as “creepystalker”.
This started three years ago, when I was walking with my boyfriend. Creepy wiggled his eyebrows dramatically and stuck his face close to my breasts. My boy and I laughed it off, until it happened a few days later, this time when I was alone. He stuck his face a few inches from my chest, and mumbled “mmm…boobies”. The following day, when he did it again, my boyfriend (a rather intimidating looking 6’3″, 225 lbs) was with me, and told the guy “hey man, you need to calm down and stop that”. I though that would be the end of it.
Since that day, I have encountered this man about 15 times, and each time he cuts across the hallway specifically to get close to me and my chest. One day, I was studying in the library, with a feeling of unease. I felt like someone was watching me. I turned around, and saw my harasser sitting across my desk. He had completely turned his chair around from the desk position so that he could watch me. I immediately packed up my things and walked out of the library, and he began to follow me. I started running out of the library, and he wasn’t able to keep up and instead stayed at the bottom floor and looked up my crotch as I climbed up the stairwell.
I always think about what I should say. I know that I need to tell this person off. I am graduating, and I know that I will feel uneasy for the rest of my life knowing that this individual is likely making other women feel this way. I have also seen him behaving in this manner towards other women, although usually it involves him glaring at her while she is walking away. I believe this man may be mentally or developmentally handicapped, and this has been one of a few reasons why I have not reported it to university authorities – out of guilt for his condition. But should it really matter?
As a strong feminist, I feel so disappointed that I don’t have the courage to confront this man. Whenever I think up the perfect thing to say, I see him walking towards me and my body starts sweating and shivering, and my mind gets all fuzzy. I can’t even react…I act like a deer in headlights and I am unable to say what I want or cover myself with my books like I planned.
Knowing that this is unfortunately all too common is a sad finding, but it gives me some solace to hear your stories and know that I am not alone in this struggle. I hope to work up the courage to confront him next time.
I was 12 years old, walking to the video store with my cousins (11 and 13) one summer afternoon, when a car slowed as it drove by us. “Haaaaay sexy!” a man shouted to us from the passenger seat. Then they sped away.
I didn’t even process what had happened. I’d never been harassed like that before. I mean, I was a gawky, brace-face pre-teen, still a naive child. What kind of grown man would cat-call me??? Was he dangerous? Did he think we were older than we looked? Was I dressed too provocatively in my shorts and baggy t-shirt? I was so confused.
This was just the first of many instances of verbal harassment I’ve experienced, and probably not the most horrible, but it definitely left an impression.