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I was just starting my job at a popular bar/restaurant in the town I was going to college in. It was my first real experience working in a fast paced resaurant setting, and I was doing my training with one of the other girls who had worked their a long time.
After a couple days, we were scheduled to work out in the outdoor section, which gets pretty hectic when its nice out. Things were going relatively well, until this large table of middle to older aged men came out. They were loud, and extremely obnoxious. They were sticking around for multiple hours ordering drink after drink, and getting noticeably louder, and increasingly drunk.
Each time I went to the table to take drink order after drink order, they kept calling me names like sweetie, sweetheart, doll, etc. and asking me questions that made me extremely uncomfortable. As the night went on, I was getting more and more shaken. There was even one point where one of them knocked me over and I spilled a tray full of drinks all over the ground, and myself.
I tried my best not to let it get to me, until I took their order again, and then suddenly, as I was taking their order, one of the older men I was standing next to took his arm and just laid it on my shoulders. I’m a really small person, just about 5’2, and so I couldn’t get away. The girl I was training with had to pull me away from him, and she told me not to worry about it.
Not long after that experience, I left the bar, because I just couldn’t handle it. I kept blaming myself, saying,”Well I should have expected that, being so small and working around a bunch of drunk men.” But after awhile, I realized I was just supporting their god awful behavior, and that I should have never excused the way those men treated me that night. Its definitely a memory that will always stick with me.
Je marche sur le bd Rochechouart entre Pigalle et la rue des martyrs, le long des magasins de musique. Il est midi ou 13h je ne sais plus, il fait beau, c’est septembre. Je suis en jean, basket, petit haut à fleurs. Soudain je sens le truc bizarre, le mec qui arrive en face me mate méchamment (au sens premier), mate mes seins de manière obscène et balance “salope” alors qu’on se croise. Comme ça.
The first time I was harassed, I was seven, sitting in a movie theater, watching a kids’ movie. A man came and sat-down next to me. He put his hand on my seat and spread his fingers open, trying to touch me as I squeezed over as far to my left as I could get without leaving my seat. (Changing seats never occurred to me; I was a shy child.) Maybe the creepiest part of the whole creepy thing is that as he left, he dropped three dollars into my popcorn, which was quite a bit for a kid in 1958. I was so innocent, I was totally bewildered.
An interesting footnote is that I was groped again in a movie theater, in Denver, CO, when I was in my late twenties. The man behind me put his hand through the space between the chairs and touched me on the breast. I chased him out of the theater but gave it up when he ran out the door.
I was fourteen, waiting with a friend by the school crossing. The streets were not so crowded, and there were other students from my high school there. A man came up to me, grabbed my hand and tried to kiss me. He was a stranger, and old and I was so embarrassed. Needless to say, I just shoved him and ran like there was no tomorrow. The worst part about it though, was that I felt like it had been my fault. I was standing in the wrong place, at the wrong time. That maybe, I should’ve just gone home instead of talk to my friend.
I’m happy I don’t feel like that any more.
I just walked into a grocery store to get some grossly overpriced desserts. As I was walking towards the store, a dude pivoted on the street and followed me into the store. He was talking at me a million miles a minute asking me about myself and whether he could hug me and telling me how beautiful I was. I said absolutely fucking not. Then he started to try to hug me and when I told him “not to fucking touch me,” I walked away.
He grabbed my arm, but I wrenched it away and repeated that he shouldn’t touch me. He also kept insisting I buy him things and asking me if I wanted have sex with him. When he asked if he should just leave and I said that he should, he stole a bunch of shit on the way out. No one batted an eye. When he left I asked “did anyone see that? did anyone at all see that?”, but no one had even looked up.
This is something that I witnessed, but it is for sure going to be one of those moments that I will never forget.
I was about 15. I was with my sisters at the bus stop waiting for the the bus to come by one afternoon on a very busy day.
The bus finally comes and everyone at the bus stop immediately go up to the bus to be the first one to board and claim a seat all the while those that were on the bus are struggling to unboard. I decided to step back and just wait till everything calmed down, and what I saw next shocked me and choked me up.
There was an old man, probably in his 80’s, unboarding, who due to his old age had a hard time coming down the steps of the bus. I then notice that when he finally makes it down, a young man, probably in his 20’s, grope his crotch and doesn’t let go for what seems like a long few seconds. The young man then casually goes up the steps and boards the bus. The old man, however, has a look of shock on his face. I see humiliation and sadness then set over him as he looks around, probably to see if anyone had witnessed this act. He stands there for a few seconds, very still, in the middle of the chaotic crowd. Humiliated. Then slowly walks away with a look on his face that I will never forget.
I felt absolutely horrible. One, because of what happened to him, and two, for not doing anything. I don’t think I will forgive myself for not stepping up.
This old man, who instead of being respected, was violated in one of the worst ways possible. What a sad scene to see a weak old man, who probably had so much to be proud of in his long life, be humiliated like this.
This goes to show that sexual harassers just violate people because they like the power of the harm they cause. It has nothing to do with what the victim is wearing at all, as many people like to think.
This was last summer (2013), I got off the train on my way to meet a friend when I felt the hand (backside of a hand) brush my butt. I quickly turned around and looked right at the guy who actually jumped at my quick reaction and he tried to walk off as if nothing happened. I followed after him so I could take his picture, he ducked into a pizza place on the corner near the train stop and rushed out the front door.
I had already called my friend who rushed to meet me but the guy was long gone…I got a pic of him though (from behind).
I live in Maryland right outside of DC. When I was at the liquor store some guy told me several times how pretty I am, how much he liked my hair, etc. it was clear that he was drunk. He then proceeded to ask to come over and drink with me. He came close and started to touch my hair.
He got pissed when I said no and I eventually gave him a fake number to get him to leave me alone. The store owner had to step in when this guy started yelling. It was awful.
I was in my Band class during a week of free days. During free days, we are allowed to do practically whatever we want in the class so long as we stay inside, obey school rules, and don’t bother the directors. Well, I was hanging out with some friends of mine. We were talking, enjoying ourselves, and being a typical group of high school girls. We saw a fellow student whom we knew looking confused and lonely by himself so we invited him to our group. He was a cute but kinda awkward guy who used to date a friend of ours. Well, over the course of the week, he became paticularly interested in me. He started off staring at my boobs (which I was used to from guys so I didn’t think anything of it). He slowly progressed to grabbing and fondling my boobs, touching my ass, and generally harassing me.
I never did anything about it or even called him out on it because he was usually such a nice guy, and he never did anything like this to his ex girlfriend so I assumed that it was fine and just me. At that time, I already was not comfortable with my figure because of the harassment I had heard about some of my friends and was trying to hide my figure. I did have other friends around at the time, but they didn’t do anything, probably because they had also been harassing me.
I was working in Paris and my best friend came to visit me so we went out to a bar. The bouncer, who was supposed to check our IDs only asked us each in turn if we were 18. I was annoyed by his laziness and when he asked me I replied, no I’m 13.
He responded by saying, “You aren’t thirteen,” and then groping my breasts, “These aren’t thirteen”. I was so shocked, I just walked into the bar without saying anything or reporting him. I still regret not speaking up for myself.