Athens GA, Atlanta, Baltimore, Chicago, Cleveland, Columbia MO, Columbus, Denver, Des Moines, Duke University, NC, Durham & Chapel Hill, East Lansing, Flagstaff, AZ, Houston, Iowa City, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Lubbock TX, Manhattan KS, Muncie IN, New Orleans, New York City, Oneonta, Pittsburgh, Plattsburgh, Providence, Richmond VA, San Fernando Valley, San Francisco, Twin Cities, West Georgia (University)
I was sitting in a coffee shop on Dupont Circle at the bar facing the windows on Connecticut Ave and noticed a man parked directly across the sidewalk was watching me from his car. I realized after a minute that he was touching himself, and eventually saw that he wasn’t wearing pants. I tried to get a picture of him (included) but people were walking by so he stopped. He continued after they passed so I got up to leave. I tried also to get a picture of his license plate but he drove away quickly when I got up. He was an older white man wearing a yellow reflective safety vest in a bright blue pick-up truck with a construction rack in the bed and Maryland plates.
I walked out on my lunch hour a block away to get something to eat. On my way there, I heard several “kissy” noises coming from my right side. I turned to see a delivery man walking right beside me and staring at me. As soon as I turned to him, I gave him a look of disgust to show him those noises were not welcome. He was just happy to have gotten my attention at all and followed up with “HI!”
This made me feel disgusting and totally degraded in the middle of the day. Immediately after I walked away, I wished I had some something to him about how inappropriate that was. It made me feel icky and gross. I came back to work and told a friend (girl) about the situation, and she made me feel worse by telling me its not a big deal and she loves it when she gets compliments in the street, but “to each their own” and then she refused to engage in any further discussion on the matter. I feel awful! If women can’t get on the same page about this, how can we ever hope that street harassment will stop?
I was coming home at night from a really good job interview. I got on the train at Hollywood/Vine Metro Station and headed back towards 7th/Metro Station. About a stop or two down the track a drunk man got on the train, singing VERY loudly (with very little talent) and sat directly across from me. I ignored him until about 10 minutes later when I noticed he was opening a can of bud light (probably his 5th). I looked away trying to ignore him again and when I glanced back I saw him starring directly at me, licking his lips, and rubbing the inside of his thigh dangerously close to his small dick. I glared back at him trying to get him to stop but he just kept going so I changed seats. He began to laugh and say degrading comments toward me … so I flicked him off (I don’t take that kind of bull shit from anyone). And then he began getting really aggressive, stumbling toward me and threatening me. We continued cussing each other out until I got to 7th & Metro. As I exited the train he made a knee jerking motion and said “I will kick your ass, bitch” and that’s when I blew my top, turned around, and said “WELL THEN COME ON BABY, I”M RIGHT HERE”. Of course the dick did nothing and continued to cuss at me as the doors closed. The ONLY bystander on a train full of useless people was this angel of a woman who, as she was also exiting the train, told the man “Don’t you touch her”. I can’t thank that woman enough for standing up for me. I’m always use to standing alone, I just want someone to help me out, just fucking once. If anyone sees a short, black man wearing a red baseball cap handing out stupid black business cards on the metro promoting himself as a “world champion boxer” (he actually tried using his cards to intimidate me) call the cops and stay away from him.
“Nice ass…best butt in town”, was yelled at me by a group of men, followed by a wolf-whistle, when walking down the Main Street of Angaston. This was a Saturday afternoon and it was humiliating. I pretended not to hear it, although my non-response encouraged more comments.
Somebody in a red Chevy kept making sexual gestures at me constantly.I was walking and the traffic kept them away but a mile away they were harassing me again
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.
My roommate and I were walking, when two (drunk?) men in their twenties (we’re both 19) were being rowdy around the intersection of Tremont and Boylston. My roommate and I ignored them–city life, right? Until they started running in our direction. We huddled a little closer under her umbrella, but the footsteps got closer and then began slowing down. She stood in front of me, since I’d had trouble with harassment in the past, and shot them a look.
“Hey,” the guys said. “So, what’s up?”
“Are you drunk?” she asked.
“We’re not weirdos,” they said, out of breath, looking us up and down.
“So,” one said. “What’re your names?”
“Nope!” my roommate said, grabbing my hand. We immediately ducked into Piano Row, since it’s an Emerson building and we’re both Emerson students. We were safe there, since the doors lock unless you have an Emerson pass key. We decided to stay there for a few minutes before continuing our journey home.
Two minutes later, the men were at the door, pressing their faces against it and looking at us. The security guard looked to us and asked if they were students.
“No,” I said. “They’re drunk, I think, and were harassing us on the street earlier.”
The security guard told them non-students weren’t allowed in the building, especially not at this hour (it was about 11, 12 at night). The men went away for awhile. My roommate and I had to get home to our room down the road, but were sure they were still outside.
A group of Emerson students, all female, approached the door, with the guys following them. The guys are telling them they are students and to let them in. My roommate yells to the girls, “Don’t let them in!” One girl actually has to push one back with her elbow to get him to back off. The guard calls for backup and two of them go out to really get rid of them. The group of upperclassmen girls walked us home.
The worst thing is that this happened on my campus. In my home. Where I live.
It is not an isolated incident.
Man walking by makes kissing sound I flipped him off.
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.