I moved from Maryland to Niagara Falls when I retired in 2012. The house is wonderfully secure, and I look forward to being here the rest of my life.
One of the 10 windows in my house was open a bit to air out the guest room, and I had not engaged the little prongs on the upper sash to prevent it from being opened from the outside.
I have a propensity for staying up too late, sitting at my laptop in the kitchen. One night, I got to bed after midnight and, as usual, finished reading the daily paper. I noted the time at exactly 1:30 a.m. when I turned out the light to sleep.
Within a minute, I heard rustling. I assumed it was out on the front porch, then realized it was coming from the guest room next to mine. I saw a short man in full silhouette against the yellow window curtain across the room. I shouted.
He came around to my side of the antique double bed and leapt full-sprawl on top of me. That made me angry. I shouted for him to get off me. He rolled off to the other side of the bed beginning immediately to get between my legs.
What little reading I had done in the 1970’s about the realities of rape came back to me clearly. Locked my ankles across one another. He could not penetrate the block either with his groin or his hands. He started to touch a breast. I realized I’d better lock my arms across my chest, because having anyone touch my breasts is too emotionally intimate. He stopped trying to touch me there.
He then took my hand and directed me to masterbate him. I acquiesced in the masterbation for a bit and his penis became erect. I withdrew and resumed the lock across my chest. He spent TWO AND A HALF HOURS mostly trying to use my body to reach ejaculation.
The man had obviously showered before coming to my house. He smelled fresh and he was perfectly clean. No sign of tobacco, alcohol, or marijuana. He wore a navy T-shirt, no underwear, and those long ugly nylon-ish basketball shorts with elastic waist. He’d clearly planned the whole thing.
He said very little, always directly in my ear, “Where your purse? Where your purse?” Very deep, very soft. Although at one point I had a long opportunity to study the profile of his face against the street light coming through the yellow curtain, I recognized neither his face nor his voice.
But I’d recognize that torso again: He had two long scars, one very straight and “clean” directly from the naval toward his genitals, the other parallel but off to one side a bit and with a rough scar. His arms were distinctly muscular and well-defined. He was a little taller than I. I still did not recognize him.
When he left, I called 9-1-1, and report an attempted rape. He was arrested on Tuesday morning outside the house of my lawn man, where he was reporting for work. He never made bail. He pled guilty. I hope I never see him again. But if we cross paths, I’m going to be so damned angry, I may not contain myself.
My boyfriend raped me.
After being raped at gunpoint in her Harlem apartment in 2001, Jana Leo resolved to fight back not only against the rapist but against the landlord whose greed and calculated recklessness set the stage for the break-in. Encountering police disinterest, a health care system that refused to pay for a rape kit, and a beleaguered district attorney’s office, Leo sought justice for the violence of the attack, an experience that has resonated throughout her life.
The Feminist Press, along with Center for the Humanities at CUNY, RightRides, and Hollaback!, is sponsoring a series of dialogues to commemorate artist, philosopher, and architecture scholar Jana Leo’s forthcoming book Rape New York (Feminist Press, February 2011). Jana will be joined by writer and curator Gavin Browning, feminist writer and organizer Jennifer Baumgardner, architect and SUPERFRONT founder Mitch McEwen, and Michelle Anderson, Dean of CUNY Law School.
Join Hollaback! in Fort Greene on Monday, February 21 for the third discussion of the series.
Monday, February 21: Greenlight Bookstore, Fort Greene, Brooklyn, 7:30 pm
Violent Crime & the Urban Landscape with Mitch McEwen
Click here for a full calendar of events.
Reposted from Gothamist:
A man attacked and possibly raped a pediatric nurse in a bathroom stall in the midtown bar Social, police said. The perp fractured the 30-year-old woman’s skull, and broke her eye socket and nose after she reportedly refused to dance with him in the three-story Eighth Avenue bar and lounge.
According to the Times, the attack occurred at around 2:30 this morning when the Connecticut woman declined to dance with the perp. After “she rebuffed his advances,” the attacker followed the woman into the ladies bathroom, kicked open a bathroom stall door and assaulted her. Law enforcement sources believe she might have been raped because her pants were partially off when she was found.
One of the nurse’s girlfriends discovered the victim unconscious in the bathroom stall. She was taken to New York-Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Center, where according to ABC, she underwent surgery. Police are trying to find video of the man entering or leaving the bar.
There is something that I never reported which happened to me in New York back in 2006. I live in California now and, despite some of the things that happened to me, things are generally good and no one for the most part bothers me as evidenced by guys apologizing for making crude passes when I flip them off or tell them off crudely. However, you guys in NY have one helluva up hill battle to climb when it comes to street harassment and the general overall abuse and misogyny towards women that seems to prevail in that climate and this story shows why.
Back in the Summer (June or July?) of 2006, I was the victim of rape. I don’t want to say for sure my status since I never got or heard the results from the rape kit, but the bruises on my face along with the black outs I suffered and the constant yelpings from the perpetrator asking me to, “Just have sex with him,” tells me that something took place. As a backdrop, I lived in Queens at the time. I was coming from a bar in Manhattan alone (I’m a loner and have done this many times.) I was drunk AND tired and fell asleep until I ended up in the Bronx (not sure where.) I spoke to a man who offered to show me the right way home. We left the subway and he went to buy us some food which he gave me a sandwich. He gave me his number and I took it since, in my inebriated state, I didn’t want to seem rude.
I recall he went into an alley. I followed. When he went in, I recall him saying, very specifically, “That he sells drugs.” That is when I was out of there. All of a sudden, I felt an arm choke my neck. That is when I experienced my first black out and kept going in and out of consciousness until dawn. A couple founded me with the man asking, “What was I doing out there?” They called the cops on my behalf.
I recall how insensitive the cops were towards me. One cop said about me to the other cops, “That’s probably a girl on the stroll.” As I was placed in the ambulance, an ambulance driver said to me, “That necklace got you in trouble,’ referring to the pentagram I wore around my neck! I underwent the rape analysis, was given a morning after pill (thank goodness for that), and was told to come back for a prescription for AIDS preventative medicine.
As a fighter who fought to come into this world and fought a hole in my heart as a newborn infant, I fought against this time despite what had been through so that I could look forward to commencing my new job at JP Morgan Chase as a personal banker at the time. Despite the severity of what had happened to me, I had to fight to get a detective in the special victims unit in the Bronx assigned to my case. When I went in there, they made a mockery of the victims whom they worked with as displayed by a picture on the wall of a picnic with the words: “Special Victjms Only” or something to that effect. I spoke to the detective, a woman, by the name of Mary McClennon, about had happened. I even offered her the perp’s phone number. At my insistence, she put me in contact with an ADA.
The ADA started accusing me of being at fault. She asked, “Why was I out at night?” “Why was I dressed the way I was,” and the whole 9 yards…And yes, it was a woman! Even more bizarrely, this woman, this ADA, whose tone was getting more belligerent by the minute, asked me what was my dad’s name, my mother’s name, my elementary school’s name (seriously), the principal there and my high school, where was I working, where was my dad working, etc. I asked her what do these things have to do with my case and I even went as far to remind her of the illegality of what she was asking due to rape shield laws. She asked for my employer’s phone number, his/ her contact info, address, etc none of which had ANYTHING, absolutely NOTHING to do with my rape. My bosses at JP Morgan Chase didn’t rape me, my dad and mom in Louisiana sure as hell didn’t rape me, so how that information was pertinent was beyond me. Even more sadly, when I walked out and talked to a robbery suspect, when I told him the BATTERY of questions I was asked, he said he was never asked those things.
That day, I got on the train and I couldn’t help but break from my hard and bust out crying. I knew what had happened. The detective deliberately set me up to go to an ADA who would effectively keep my case from going to trial, despite bruising, despite evidence, despite having the man’s number. What happened to me at the hands of the SVU of the Bronx along with the assistant district attorney was a real crime and a miscarriage of justice.
Fast forward later, today as a matter of fact, I tried to get the case info (since it was so long ago) to file a report with the Attorney General’s Office. Again, I nearly cried at, not only the way, I was being treated, but how potential other victims will be treated too. Again, I was met with a barrage of hangups, rude people yelling at me and overall refusing to cooperate. This is how the SVU which deals with women, child victims and the most vulnerable members of our society treats them. For them there is no serve and protect but to conceal and deny. If you love NY, please don’t take offence to what I am about to say, but it is not a woman friendly place. Incidents like this seem to be more common along with the severe street harassment which I experienced which borderlines on rape. Any woman who lives up there to me is a brave soul since I couldn’t do it at all and I could barely get past the 2 1/2 years of my living up there. What you are doing is a great thing by awakening people’s eyes to the things which offsets horrible things.
Submitted by Raven
According the Post, a man is accused raping his ex-girlfriend at the Fulton Street Station on November 13th. The ex-con allegedly pulled her hair, punched her in the face, ripped her pants off and raped her.
As station booths close and the number of underground police are on the decline, it is no accident that subway crimes have risen. Subway stations have become safe havens for violence against women.
We deserve better. Join us at New Yorkers for Safe Transit to make a difference.
In today’s AMNY: Transit cop charged with raping teen. Thanks to Heather Haddon, one of our HOLLAheroes, for reporting this awful crime. When station booth attendants are being cut left and right, every man counts.
“A 29-year-old transit cop charged with raping an 18-year-old woman is scheduled to face a judge on Wednesday.
Shawqi Ahmed, an officer since January 2006, was arrested by the NYPD Friday. Ahmed allegedly met the woman at a Brooklyn club on Thanksgiving and raped her in an apartment later that night, according to published reports. The NYPD would not confirm the details of the incident yesterday.
“It’s particularly a travesty considering this was someone people depend on to keep them safe,” said Emily May of Holla Back, a Web site documenting harassment and sexual abuse in New York City.
The case will go to a grand jury at Kings County Criminal Court, a DA spokesman said.”
Sunday December 6, 2009 6:28 PM By Heather Haddon
Ok. I was on the #5 out of the city of course during rush hour today. The train was late… late and really crowded. It was such a beautiful day and I had a really nice new skirt on because I met a potential bf for lunch. Oh wait I’m 16 and doing an internship by grand central … so I’m used to business guys bumping me and perving on me. No biggie. This was way over the edge.
So I’m getting on the train and I see this guy like REALLY staring at me in a scary kind of way. No biggie. I get on. I am almost one of the last to get on and this guy literally pushes in right behind me. There was NO where to go. NO big deal. Well he’s behind me and I feel him pushing his crotch against me. I try to move but I can’t. I’m like 5’2″ and this guy was big. Now I can actually feel his dick getting hard on the back of my skirt so I elbow him!! No reaction. HE was like an animal. So I try to move away again and there is no way. NO one noticed either.
This is the worst part. He gets up like with his grill right in my ear and is like, “MMM BAbby u smell so good.” AND he smelled SOOO bad. I was sooo scared I think I would have fell down if he wasn’t jammed up on my back. They called the stop and then he really started jamming his thing on me. I am small so I felt it all the way from my ass to like half way up my back. Right before we got to the stop he was all in my ear like, “You like it you little bitch.” Then we stopped and he like basically ran off the train with a ton of other people. I was so scared and the great new skirt I had had fucking cum all over the back of it and there was gross smelly spit in my hair. I was soo pissed and trembling I felt like I got raped.
I just want share because I know this probably wasn’t his first time on this train and I think he is going to like rape somebody. I he was like 6 feet and pretty big guy maybe like 30. I was too scared to take his picture. Sorry this was so long but I was horrified and I am never taking that train alone again. I will kill that scumbag if I ever see him again.
Submitted by Anonymous
Last night I was coming back from a bar in the west village around 1am, and thought I would take a taxi (to go home to Astoria) instead of the subway to be safer since it was late and I was alone. I should have taken the subway. The whole ride through Manhattan the driver was asking me if I had a boyfriend, what race of guy I prefer, stuff like that. I was thinking “what a fucking pervert” but just ignored him or answered his idiotic questions with one word answers, thinking if I acted not interested at all he would shut up and take me home so I could go to sleep.
Then on the bridge he starts getting deeper, asking questions like“how do you like sex”, “do you like 69”, shit like that. Then I started to think “I am so reporting this sicko once I get home”. Then right after the 59st bridge he drives the car down some random street, PULLS OVER and tells me to come up front to see so he can show me his dick. As exciting as that sounds, I asked him to please just take me home. Then he keeps asking me to come up front, I quickly realized there’s no way this guys taking me home. After I saw my life flash before my eyes, I grabbed my stuff, opened the door (luckily it was open) and ran. He got out of the car, caught up to me and grabbed my stuff saying I still owe him money and to get back in the car. So now we’re basically fighting in the street, I’m yelling at him to give me back my stuff, he’s telling me to get back in the car. I should have just ran and ditched my stuff, but I have a feeling he would have caught up with me anyway, him being in car and me on foot. I saw another cab go by and screamed for him to help me. Thank god he stopped and got out, and asked what the problem was. I told him this guy was trying to rape me, the guy told him I was trying to run away without paying. I was like yeah, like I’m going to get out in the middle of the ghetto nowhere near my house and run away to save $15. Finally I threw $40 at the pervert (so basically I paid way extra for some guy to sexually harass and assault me), he gave me my stuff, and the other dude took me home.
Right after the guy gave me my stuff I looked him the the eye and yelled “You think I’m fucking stupid, I got your medallion number, you just lost your job!” and then for an added effect screamed “xxxx” about 5 times. He drove off. I went home and called 911, told them his #, and said I want to press charges. I’m reporting him to every taxi commission I can find, the cab company, and plan to call the police station every day until they come up with a reason they can go arrest him. There is no way this guy hasn’t done this before, so I’m hoping as long as one other person has reported him he’s fucked. He is still out there as of now (apparently you cant be arrested unless you do actually rape someone) but I will not sleep until this sicko is not out driving a cab.
Submitted by Erin
(Note to the ladies: RightRides offers women a free, safe ride home Saturdays from 12-3 at night, and they are hoping to expand into other evenings in the future. Check them out at www.rightrides.org.