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This happened to me in Berkeley… there are a lot of cat calls here. My neighbor said, “Well, that’s what Berkeley is like.” I say it’s inappropriate no matter what city it is and Berkeley deserves a better reputation than that.
Later I was walking up the street he was walking in the same direction. He said “Hey sweetie…” I asked him to stop talking to me and that he was being disrespectful. He started a string of insults about my ass being fat and so on. So I took his picture and told him it would be on Hollaback. He didn’t like it.
Submitted by Marlenee.
This “nice catch” found me at 42nd Street – Times Square. He followed me around the station from one platform to another. Then he got on the N with me and stayed on until I got off in Brooklyn. He then got off. I got on the R, and he didn’t. I snapped his photo in case he did anything – and I have it saved. He kept telling me he loved me – over and over and over and making kissing noises and motions with his lips. What a creep he was. Several men told me that they had been watching him talk to me and making the kissing motions and sounds. They said that if he would have done anything, they would have been up. Thankfully, he didn’t try anything.
Also, I had my 7 year old son with me. (That’s part of his head in the side of the photo). So this man was behaving this way in front of MY CHILD!
Thanks again for this service you provide. I wish I had a photo of the first perv I met – who rubbed his penis against my leg!
Submitted by Brandy.
Two of my friends and I were coming home from a night of bowling. My friend was driving, her cousin was in the front seat, and I was in back. We pulled up to a red light, laughing about something, and I casually glanced at the car next to us for a split second, where one of the guys in the backseat was pretty much drooling over us. I alerted my friends to this, and they looked over at them, this time to find everyone in the car staring at us. There were four of them, and they were big guys. They kept rolling down their windows and yelling stuff at us, but we ignored them. The light changed, and we drove on, thinking nothing of it.
So we stopped at the next light, and guess who pulled up beside us. We were right by where you needed to turn to get to my house, so I told her to just keep going straight because I didn’t want those idiots on a power trip knowing where I live. She kept going straight, and they stayed right next to us.
This went on for several minutes before she pulled out her cell phone and called her mom. They were still right next to us, and they started acting like they were going to run us off of the road. Her mom told her to call the police if they kept on us, and she said ok. We were in a 40mph zone, and she was doing 30. They stayed right next to us…you could tell they were totally getting off on it.
They eventually went away, and we had to go all the way through Beech Grove to get home.
Submitted by Amanda.
Last night I was coming home around midnight after a study marathon and having all kinds of fun experiences with leering guys on the subway. It was like “Creepy Man Stare at Lauri” Day or something. My outfit was eye-catching — a flowery dress that ended mid-thigh, tights, and corduroy jacket — but not immodest. Basically it showed off my legs. Anyway, I get off at my stop in Astoria and these two guys behind me start talking about rape. Now, I can’t be 100% sure about the exact content of their conversation, but it seemed that one of the guys was trying to convince the other guy that raping women was, you know, a bad thing. All the while, the avenue is barren. I’m getting a little bit concerned. “Why are they talking about this behind a woman who’s walking by herself at midnight?” I wondered. “That’s not so polite.”
When I got to my house, one of the guys yelled out, “I’ll get you next time.” Now, was he yelling to his friend, or to me? I don’t know. All I know is that now I feel even more threatened in my already leering-loving neighborhood, and will have to buy some mace. Great.
Astoria needs some serious street harrassment awareness training.
So, I was walking from the bank near the corner of 4th and King, running morning errands and minding my own business. The pedestrian light starts turning red, and so, I make a run for it. Suddenly I hear, “Where you running to, beautiful?” Ugh. I snap pic 1 of him doing
his cruise walk. I pick up the pace, and my boyfriend calls through, yet this wanker won’t give up, as he keeps calling after me, asking, “Hey gorgeous, who you on the phone to?”
Suddenly I think: “Hollaback Moment!”
I hang up with my boyfriend, and when I look up, this guy is STANDING in front of me! I take a step back, hold my phone up and ask, “Can I take your picture?” He gets weird and starts mumbling about why I want to take his picture, but I say, in my sweetest voice, “I MUST take your picture, so I can remember you. You know?” He says his name is “Anie”(Thanks assclown!), and wants to see the pic. I take it (thanks again, assclown) and show him. He’s pleased with the way it looks.
But then, he won’t leave me alone. He follows me all the way back to my loft, offers me weed, cigarettes, and then says he wants to be my boyfriend(ugh!), and has now managed to get in the front door of my building, and won’t leave until I give him a hug.
I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to share this experience, and his pics Thanks Hollaback!
- Le Anne in San Francisco
The one thing I find extremely difficult and unfair is the helplessness felt by women who work in the customer service industry. There are rules and regulations dealing with sexual harassment from fellow coworkers. But when the harassment comes from a
customer that we’re supposed to be nice to, what can we do?
I used to work as a cashier at Wal-Mart (or as I call it “The Den of DOOM”). There was this one guy there who would always come to my line. I saw him at least
once a week. He would acually seek me out! Once I had a technical problem with one customer’s purchase. When another cashier opened her line, everyone moved to the other line except him! I thought the creep was stalking me.
He would come up to me, and leer and stare at me. Unfortunately I had to wear a name tag so he knew my name. I’ve never heard my name sound so disgusting before. He would ask me when I got off from work, and if I would go out with him. And all I could do was be polite, say no, and try to keep busy when what I really wanted to do was tell him to back the f*** off.
The town I used to lived in at the time used to publish the names and pictures of people who had been arrested for DUI. (I guess as a way to warn others to watch for them on the road?) I saw his face in one of these columns. I wasn’t surprised, but I had noticed he had an unusual name.
One day at work a lady came up to me and asked me to page her husband to meet her at my register. Her husband’s name sounded so familiar, but it wasn’t until I saw it was The Creep walking up to her that I finally put it together! He’d been trying to spin me his tired game and he comes to find me there with *his wife*! When I saw the look on his face, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing!
The next time he tried to bothered me, I asked him how his wife was. He turned red and sped off. He never bothered me after that!
Keep up the good work!
~ Angel H.
P.S. I’d also like to mention that I am a very overweight woman. So when people say that harassment only happens to certain women or that the women should expect this kind of treatment, just point them in my direction. I have plenty of other stories to tell.
The Hollaback NYC blog reminded me of a scary thing that happened to me when I used to work for an inventory service. I sometimes had to work stores in downtown Denver and we wouldn’t get out till after dark. One night as I was leaving, this really freaky dude was standing there on the 16th Street mall. I ignored him and kept walking to get to my car which of course was 5 or so
He suddenly shouted “Hey, Bitch, do you know what time it is?” I ignored him and kept walking. He shouted “Hey, Slut! Yeah, I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me or I’ll cut your fuckin’ throat!”
I hurried around this corner and was about to duck into a bar and tell them to call the cops. I guess he lost sight of me because he kept walking down 16th street.
I’m sure he was mentally ill but compassion was lost to fear at that point. People like that really shouldn’t be out on the street. Who knows if he was just spouting stuff or if he’d really have done it if he’d gotten hold of somebody?
Written by Cie.
I was living in Astoria, and I use the word ‘living’ — Hold the phone. You won’t believe this. As I was writing this Hollaback, a guy came into my office and sexually harrassed me. He asked me if I like to be flogged, and since it was hot in the office I should get naked. He asked me to cuss because cussing women turn him on. What a fucking creep. Problem is, since he doesn’t work here, or work anywhere, there was nothing I could do. He’s a member of the synagogue. I just tried to steer the conversation towards more neutral ground and towards business. And now I feel stupid because I didn’t stand up for myself more. So, Hollaback, Shelly! I hope you get a papercut on your dick when your jacking off tonight to Hustler.
I was living in Astoria, and I use the word ‘living’ loosely as it was wll about 95 degrees and we had no air conditioner. Also, you don’t live in Astoria, you kind of just wait around in Astoria until you can move to Brooklyn. Anyway. I went out to the store a block away at around 11pm really just to wander around in the Rite Aid air conditioning. This guy on my way to Rite Aid said something nasty to me, and then turned around and followed me into the store. He continued following me around the store, saying nasty things to me under his breath. I alerted the security guy, and the guy walked outside, standing right in front of the door, waiting for me to come out. The security guard said, “What do you want me to do about it?” I said, “Can you tell him to leave me alone, or walk me out the door or something?” and he said, “Boys will be boys.” What a fucking mother fucker. Anyway, I truck it out of the shop, doing my lengthiest stride, and asshole is still following me. I know of an apartment building on my way home where the front door is always unlocked. I decide to go there instead of home. I walk in the front door and disappear into the garden for about 10 minutes. I return to the front door, expecting him to be gone so I can go the fuck home. Nope…
He’s standing right across the street gawking at me through the front door. Anger grabs a hold of me. I step out the front door, and I point right at him. “YOU!” I say. He looks confused and looks around. I yell at the top of my lungs, “YES, YOU. STOP FUCKING FOLLOWING ME.” The guy looks scared and walks away. Just then a Police car drives up. I tell them what happened and they agree to take me home. They just have to take care of a jumper on the roof. HIL-arious. So, they drive me home, and my Landlady gets a nice view of me coming home at midnight in the back of a police car, as they shine their search light full blast at the front door and say in a mega volume loudspeaker, “Can you find your keys?!?” Hollaback to you, asshole mutter-follower. And a special hollaback to that piece of shit guard.
Written by Julie
I live in the crazy college town of Madison, WI. In preparation for Halloween, I took the bus to the mall and got some costume elements. I got off the bus on State Street, only to hear a male voice, “Hey, pink-hair girl!” (My hair is not, in fact, pink, it’s bright red.) But I stop and wait for the man to catch up (I can’t really remember what he looked like anymore) thinking that I had forgotten something on the bus. So he comes up to me and says, “I just wanted to say that I admired you.” Predictably, I’m like, “What for?” He says, “With all the diversity on that bus…you weren’t intimidated or anything.” I am not entirely sure what he means by this, especially since his explanation was far less concise than I have made it, but realize it’s a compliment and thank him, although I’ve started walking home by now and am getting vaguely worried at the way he’s following me. He asks if I’m in a hurry, and suddenly he becomes something more sinister than a guy with poor social skills. I tell him I have to go home and walk away very fast.