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i worked in a high end Italian restaurant, everyday anything I wore I would get hollered by the staff. I felt very uncomfortable.. I am just 19 years old and these men are in their mid 40s and above..plus this was a new job for me.. I couldn’t step in the kitchen without hearing a whistle or someone trying to grab my butt.. It just got to the point that I had to quit that job.. And now am afraid to work in any other restaurants due to the harassment that happens in the kitchen/ restaurant.
As usual, i was going home after closing the bar i used to work at, it was around 4a. So i was (a little bit) drunk, heading to my flat, at a 2mn walk away, walking on a big lightened pedestrian street when a groupe of 4 or 5 young men joined me. One criticized my low waist jeans saying he sees everything and the others laughed when i stammered a multiple excuse “you don’t see anything / i’m wearing a boxer/it’s not my fault my button gave way sooner”. last thing i remember, the guy who adressed me put a hand against my throat, pining me against the church’s wall. They all left laughing. I ran back home. I don’t want to blame myself for being tipsy, i don’t want to feel guilty about an outfit, but i do feel bad about the explanation i gave them : we shouldn’t need any.
I was 14 years old and I was with some friends in a World Cup event that was happenning at the beach. Me and a friend of mine were going to tha snack bar when a drunk 30 year old guy surrounded me and asked if I would kiss him. I didn’t want to and I told him that, but he didn’t let me go. He hugged me and asked many times why I didn’t want him while he tried to still a kiss. My friend was a little bit far, since she thought that I was intending to kiss him, and the friends of the guy were laughing aroud us. I wanted to get out of there, so I told him that I would kiss him if he let me go. It was a very disgusting moment, but then he liberated me. At that time I hadn’t realized what happened. And whenever I tell this story to someone, people also doesn’t see. By now, I regret that I didn’t kick his balls and call the security. I have the right to say “no”.
A group of young boys on bicycles was blocking the path where I usually run — this is a wide, safe path by a river.
As I ran by, two of them touched my butt. I turned around and yelled at them “hey! that is not acceptable. You cannot do that.” I then ran away but I still want to cry. It made me so upset and angry.
Printemps dernier. Je monte dans le bus bondé. Il pile, une main touche furtivement ma jupe au niveau de mon pubis. Je remarque que c’est celle d’un homme et place mon sac devant ma jupe, de sorte qu’il ne puisse pas réitérer -à cet instant je lui laisse encore le bénéfice du doute puisque je me dis c’est peut etre la secousse du bus qui l’a poussé contre moi. Sa main cherche mon entrejambe. Je le repousse, essaie de me dégager. Les larmes montent mais je reste muette. Il change de place.
Last spring. I get into the crowded bus. It stops suddenly, a hand touching my skirt at the level of my pubes. I notice that it is of a man and put my bag in front of my skirt, so it can not happen again -to this moment I let him have the benefit of the doubt because I think maybe the shaking bus drove him against me. His hand looking for my crotch. I push him, trying to free myself. Tears come but I remain silent. He changes position.
I was on the PATH train home during my daily commute from work in NYC to NJ. The train lurched quite a bit and people were jostling. At first, I did not think the man meant to be so close to me or that he meant to touch my butt. I inched closer to the bar I was holding away from him.
A couple of stops later, the ride was smoother, and the touch was unmistakably real. I turned around to see a man twice my size. I frowned and move even closer to the bar. I only had one more stop before I could get off the train. He did not stop getting closer to me. Then, another man said, “How about you stand over here? I notice it too.” This man helped me move away from him in the crowded train, and I knew I was not imagining it.
I took a photo of him from behind and tried to catch a photo of him as I got off the train. He got off too. He lives in my city. I took another photo of him from behind with a PATH camera that would have captured his face. I tried to find a police officer on my way out of the station and could not find one.
I was angry and worried that he might mistreat another woman. I was not sure of what to do, but I knew I needed to let someone know. I searched the PATH website to find an email address to send the photos. Unable to find the address, I decided to call the PATH police department. The officer who answered asked me why I waited two hours to call about the incident (I was still shaken and could not find the information easily). I was told I could go down to the station to file a report. I get the feeling I am not going to be taken seriously.
I was 22 and walking through the Sydney CBD at night looking for a taxi to get home. It was very late (around 3am) but I was sticking to well lit, busy streets where police are normally present. As I turned a corner to walk down one of the city’s busiest streets there was a large group of about 10 men aged between 18-24 walking towards me and taking up the entire footpath. I kept my head down and veered to the very edge of the path to get around. Just as I was about to pass, one of the men raised his arm straight above his head and a moment later swung it down with full force on my bum. The force of his hand jolted me forward and hurt. The group of men laughed and continued to walk past me. I felt scared and incredibly angry that I had been intimidated and physically harmed – but because the perpetrator had struck my ass it was supposed to be a compliment?
I (rather unwillingly) went to a club recently, to humour a friend that doesn’t go out much. We were four girls, just dancing by ourselves in a little square, clearly not looking for anyone to join us. The male hand as they’re ‘passing by’ on the back/bum is (all too) typical in clubs, but my ass got full-on felt up for probably four or five seconds before I realised what was happening. As a reflex, I turned around and slapped the guy in the face. It wasn’t hard enough that it would sting or anything, but he definitely knew I was serious. I can’t remember exactly what I said because I was so fumingly angry, but it was a lot of stuff along the lines of ‘you don’t fucking do that, that’s not okay never pull that shit again’ until my friends realised there was something serious going on and pulled me away. I was almost shaking for a while until I calmed down. I’m in my early twenties, and I have been harassed both on the street and off since I was probably 14– I have literally no tolerance for it anymore.
Also, later in the night one of my friends that I was with got groped as well, but someone reached from behind her, like how you would wipe a baby’s bum, but from front to back. She had never had anything like that intense happen to her and was in shock at first, and was angry later. Pretty awful experience for the both of us.
I was on the 590 bus to work and a guy made space for me to sit on a packed bus. He then proceeded to talk to me sexually, touch my hair and fall asleep on my shoulder repeatedly.
Washington DC, Shaw, Florida Ave NW. We passed each other in the crosswalk and he reached out and stroked my arm. I swerved out of the way and stared at him in shock. He looked back at me like “yeah, I did that, what are you gonna do about it?”