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We’re all taught that we should at least feel safe at home. If we buy a home or rent a house, that property should be our haven, a place to live and relax.
Yesterday, I was taking advantage of that. As I was transferring seedlings into pots, a guy who was new to the neighborhood passed by, and we exchanged hellos.
Later, while I was reading in the sunshine, the same guy came around again, struck up a conversation. He was very polite, up until the point he grabbed my rear end.
I stepped back, said, “NOPE. OFF.” and pointed towards the sidewalk.
I think that reaction startled him, because he initially stepped back in a hurry. Apologizing profusely, he shuffled off, looking back at me as if he wanted to try continuing the conversation.
My glare told him just how likely that was going to be.
It’s not the first time something like this has happened to me, and it’s not the worst thing, either. However, it still left me feeling violated, angry and helpless.
After about an hour of stewing, I called the non-emergency phone number for the police. He wasn’t in sight anymore, and I only felt threatened by the uncertainty of “What if he comes back? What if he decides to try something else?”
I gave his description, told the operator what had happened and where the guy had told me he lives. Because I wanted to file a formal complaint, they sent a pair of officers over.
Since it wasn’t an emergency, it took a few hours for the cops to get here. That’s fine. Far worse things happen every day in this city. The two who showed up were a pair of young men.
Most police have a reputation of not taking sexual crimes seriously, and since this one was comparatively minor, I didn’t expect anything more than I got.
After I told my story, the one officer said with a laugh, “And you expect this guy to become a serial grabber?”
Straight faced, I replied, “No, but you know as well as I do that this type of behavior can escalate.”
At another point, he told me that other guys would have stayed and argued. To that, I let him know that, yes. I know that, too. It’s happened to me before, but I never made a report, because I didn’t think anything would happen.
His last try at minimizing the situation was, “Well, at least he knew what he was doing was wrong.”
If anything, that’s worse. If he knew it was wrong, why did he feel confident enough to do it? As a human being, didn’t that seem like a bad thing to him? How would he feel if it happened to a woman he cared about? How would he feel if it happened to him?
When they finally decided to take me seriously, they asked if I wanted a restraining order, which really, is all they could offer at this point.
I declined, since that was the first, and hopefully last, time I’ve ever interacted with that particular guy. If he does try giving me trouble, I will get one and I will keep a record of what he does. They told me that the fact they showed up would help my case if I have to take further action.
I felt a little foolish calling the cops on such a minor event, at first. The worst that’s happening on a personal level is a little more paranoia and anger on my part. I wasn’t physically hurt, and I haven’t seen the guy again since then.
The more I think about it, though, the better I feel about getting this on file. Harassment, whether that entails groping or anything else, is part of why things like rape and other forms of assault are so under reported.
Our culture has normalized that behavior to the point where victims are just expected to stand helplessly by.
I, personally, am sick of it. No, I’m not going to call the authorities every time some jerk whistles at me from the street or flirts lewdly with me in passing. If I did, I’d be on the phone almost every time I left the house.
What I am going to do is share my stories with anyone who wants to listen. When someone tries to get physical with me against my will again, I will make another report, and do whatever’s needed to get out of that situation.
Sadly, I say “when,” because there’s no “if” about it.
Moral of the story?
Don’t be afraid to say no, and if you can, report the incident to the authorities. Even if nothing happens in the long term, there will be a written record of the event and it will add up. Hopefully, that will amount to some change for the better.
When i was 17 i took driving lessons and my instructor tried to grope me every single day. He used to take me to dark lanes to teach driving.
Initially i thought ‘its just in my head,’ but as the days passed by he started to be very obvious making me uncomfortable. One day when he tried to slip his fingers in my top, i held his hand and yelled at him and asked him not to do so.It took me a whole lot of courage to say anything to him.
This is when he got a bit aggressive and came on to me, uplifted my top and assaulted me.The only reason he stopped was because i screeched and made noise.
Next day i discussed this matter with my best friend and we decided to report against him in the driving school. The authorities were shocked and handed him over to the cops.
I really wish i would have reported him initially but it takes a lot of courage to do something like that specially when you know that people are gonna judge you too.
i’m happy that my best friend supported me in this decision and stood by my side.
This guy groped me in a club around a year ago. He is vile, and the worse thing is when I got upset about it my friends said I was “over reacting” and “it’s just what he is like when he’s drunk”.
I love my friends dearly but it still upsets me even though it was a year ago. I never got an apology from him. This is everything that is wrong with out culture today.
You ask where. It’s happened to me in different cities and states meaning it’s global. I’m now 65 so this doesn’t happen anymore. But I remember cringing walking by guys at construction sites and putting up with the remarks. I remember a work place near my bus stop where the guys would come out and holler at me until I looked at them and then they’d laugh at me and go inside.
I believe they did it to any woman, didn’t matter, just because they could. So to stop it I learned to give them what they wanted and looked at them so it would stop. There was no sexual harassment in those days. But I always felt horrible after realizing now I gave up my power and let them control me.
I’ve been gripped with the “accidental” hand passing over my butt, been grabbed that way leaving a crowded dance floor. And the all time comment that pushes my go nuts button is “smile”.
In those days you sucked it up. Last time a man said that to me all the years of anger came pouring out. WTF for, why do you want me to smile, explain yourself, go and ask that man over there to smile…I’ll watch. He couldn’t getaway fast enough. I hope I stopped him from doing that but alas my daughter now gets the same crap. Anyway, felt good after that!
I am 15 years old, and I have dealt with sexual harassment from age 11 up until now. I now see men as animals, instead of human beings.. but worse I now see myself, as just a piece of meat. This still happens, but in 8th grade I decided I wasn’t going to stand for being groped in the halls everyday, and whistled at, and yelled at from cars, and windows. One day at school, a guy walked up to me and said “hey… Let me ‘titty fuck’ you right there in the corner!”, as you can imagine I was appalled at the fact he would have such disrespect for a female, no forget female, as a person!! I stood there completely silent, just taking his crude harassment. Eventually when he was done touching me, and yelling at me, I calmly walked away, he followed me. I finally lost my temper and decided I had nothing to lose, I tuned around And yelled back “IM A PERSON!” And he said “yeah a person with big tits!”, that is about the point where I lost it completely, and broke down, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “you objectify women! You have no respect, and because of that, nobody will have respect for you!” And he laughed and laughed at me… But believe it or not, I felt better afterwards! :O alas I continue to get harassed…. I hate highschool, and I hate how assholish guys can be… The worst parts are- I’ve told the office and they simply responded with “oh I’m Sorry we can’t help you.”, how fucking awful is that? The second worst part is that I don’t feel safe anymore as a person and a girl… I hate it
Drunk guy in bar harassing my friends. Friends looked at their shoes and tried to stop interaction by not responding. Drunk guy touched my friend inappropriately. I turned him around by his shoulder and grabbed his hand.
Me: Hey man, what’s your name?
Me: Nice to meet you, ___.
Him: I like you. You’re nice to me. They’re being ******.
Me: No, you’re just bothering them and they don’t like it. So you need to stop that now.
Him: Let me show you a picture.
Me: No, I don’t need to see that. You need to go away or I’m telling someone to get you out of here.
Interaction stopped! Did I have to see a cell phone picture of his junk in order to get him to go away? Yes. Did any other larger, more capable, male-gendered (therefore viewed as more threatening and worthier of respect) person in the bar – of which there were PLENTY – try and help me out? No!
But did the guy go away and stop touching my friends?
Yes he did.
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.