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Was running across the street and a man leaned out of a door of a truck to scream at me. Something like, “run big Bertha”
I’m a gay male who’s on the rather… chubby side, and I’d always wanted somewhere reasonable enough that made me feel comfortable and not like i wad being judged, and thought I found that with a 24 hour gym. Perfect, I’m up late anyways and there won’t be as many people there at night! Little did I know, I’d be made uncomfortable by a completely different situation.
The first time it happened, a guy was staring at me while I was rinsing my face in a sink. I could see in the reflection of the mirror that he was literally staring at me and smiling. Then what does he do next? He pulls down the front of his gym shorts and flashes me! I went out and told the person at the front desk and lo and behold, “they can’t do anything about it unless there are witnesses.”
Flash forward a month or so, I go to the gym around midnight and stay til 3 am. At the end of my workout, which included a swim, I decided that since it was late enough I could probably shower without feeling embarrassed or having anyone see me. I go into the locker room and there was an older guy, probably in his late 30′s, early 40′s who had clearly just showered and was wrapping up to go home. No big deal. I went into a desperate part of the locker room and put some stuff in my locker and grabbed a towel, undressed, and wrapped it around my waist. I head over towards the showers and as I do, I pass the little section of lockers where he’s at. He makes eye contact and smiles at me and I kinda quickly smile at him and keep walking, when I hear him say, “damn!”
I ignored it, not really believing he was talking to me (my self confidence was pretty low at the time, I had no idea anybody would ever say anything like that to me, let alone a creepy gym locker room dude,) and went over to the little offshoot area where the shower stalls are.
I’m standing there with the shower running, washing the chlorine water from my hair when I hear another nozzle turn on. I was a little disappointed cause I thought I was going to avoid the embarrassment of anyone seeing me naked, but when I glanced over, it was the creeper dude, he had gotten BACK in the shower, straight across from my stall, and worse of all, he was JACKING OFF!!!! I was pretty damn shocked by that point and I turned to face away from him and rinse the shampoo out of my hair (I rushed so it shouldn’t have taken more than a few seconds,) and I heard him say something. HE WAS RIGHT OUTSIDE MY STILL MASTURBATING!!! I didn’t know what to do or say so I kinda backed up into my stall a little more to move away from him and he kept stroking and started reaching for me. I finally got myself together and realize what was going on and said “dude, if you fucking touch me I’ll punch you the fuck out.” He backed off enough to get past him and I grabbed my towel, threw on my gym shorts and shirt still soaking wet, and carried my shoes and took off out of that locker room so quick. I’d never been more afraid or shaken up in my life. I didn’t even want to stop to talk to the guy at the front desk.
I went back a few days later to report the incident and of course was told once again that they couldn’t do anything about it. It was sick and creepy and I don’t understand why because a man can “tell I’m gay” he thinks he’s entitled to invade my personal space and make me feel disgusting.
I was walking home from the bus stop, dressed conservatively in a tank and long jeans (in 80 degree weather just to avoid this type of shit)when a man I was passing at another bus stop interrupted my headphone enjoying to say “Hey baby,whatchoo doin’ today? Where you headed?” I responded by saying loudly “Stop harassing me.” I kept walking, he shouted “Fucking whore.” So I shouted again, “STOP HARASSING ME.” While some bicyclists rode by. He again screamed “FUCKING WHORE.” So I kept walking. I’m not used to standing up for myself like this, and I know it’s a small incident but my hands are still shaking. I’m so glad he didn’t follow me home! I wish those bikers had stopped, though.
I go to a middle school and in my art class we were glazing our pottery and this one obnoxious guy came up to this girl and started to ask her questions that made her very uncomfortable. These were innapropiate questions that no one should ask ever such as “are you a whore?” “are you a virgin?” She even yelled at him to stop, but he kept getting closer and even tried to vandilize her work so I said to him politely ,”Hey thats not appropriate behavior and you should never ask someone those kind of questions please leave her alone.” He responded with “shut the fuck up nosy bitch!” And I say “you should never talk to somewhone like that!” And he just keeps going “I can say whatever the FUCK! I want fuck fuck fuckity bitch bitch bitch!” He also threw a paper towel at me. Im just happy he turned his attention away for that girl…The bell had rang and I didn’t have time to get the teacher on him…I wish I could have done more though for the girls he likes to harass.
Leered at and catcalled while walking to the grocery store.
I live in Jakarta Indonesia, and I, like many others who live here, are considered ‘ExPats’. I was born in the states but I’ve traveled my entire life so I’m use to being considered an novelty. I got use to obscene catcalls and slurs thrown at me for being what most indonesians refer to as, ‘blue’ (pronounced boo-lay), which refers to the fact that even for a white person, I’m pretty pale.
But one night, on my friends birthday, we decided to go to a club near our house and school called club 777. I had never been to a club in Indonesia before, and it was late, my boyfriend was homesick, and a lot of my friends were really drunk from the bar we visited earlier, so even just walking into this place, I felt really uncomfortable.
But I shook off that feeling as we got our table, had a couple more drinks, and started to dance. It wasn’t long after that, when a friend of the birthday girl stumbled up to us and started to dance with the group. I had met him before, but it was brief and his english was as limited as my bahasa. He knew I had a boyfriend but as soon as he walked up to us, he moved behind me and tried to grind up against me. Because he was drunk, I moved away and tried to dance somewhere else, but he followed and grabbed at my hips and my waist trying to make me stay. I ended up turning around and telling him to fuck off, shoving him off me, but he grabbed my arm tightly in his hand and shook me saying that all he wanted was to dance. I shoved him off me again and I tried to go sit down in between two of my close guy friends, but when I did, he grabbed my upper arm so hard my shoulder popped and I was dragged out of my seat.
The guys I was with made him leave our area and had one of the bouncers kick him out for disorderly conduct, but after the incident, and after the bruise from how tight his grip was, developed, he still tried to talk to me the following weekend. I heard from one of my friends that still keeps in contact with him, that all he wanted to say, was that he was sorry. Ha. Yeah, right.
I was at a local grocery store a few years ago and a 30-40 year old man got behind me in the check out line. He was talking on his cellphone and then apologized to me for being rude and stated that he was French. I said it was fine and he kept making small talk and I was being polite. He said he worked at GMU, the school I was trying to get admitted into, and asked if I would give him my phone number. Not getting terribly creepy vibes (yet) but still wanting to be safe I gave him my email, thinking that he would be a useful connection. But soon after this he started emailing very often, probably weekly for a solid month or two, inviting me to coffee and tennis and I never responded, because at that point I was definitely creeped out. He eventually gave up. Flash-forward to a couple of years later and I’m at another grocery store and I am in a random aisle when I see the SAME MAN on his cell phone and speaking French (really obvious french words: merci vous cous, etc. over and over again. It was pretty obvious no one was on the other line). Every aisle I turned down he would show up and I kept trying to randomize to avoid him because he would get walk past me staring and trying to get my attention. I got what I needed and went to the checkout counter where he got in line behind me still repeating French on his cell. Then he started to apologize to me for being on the phone and telling me that he was being rude and he was sorry and that he was French. SAME FUCKING CONVERSATION. And over two years after the first encounter. I again said it was fine but made no small talk and high tailed it the hell out of there hoping he wouldn’t remember that he had pulled this shit on me previously and that he actually had my email. And this same fucker came up to me about a month or two ago, this time in a local store. Same routine: incoherent French on his cell home, following me around aisles and trying to apologize for being rude on his phone as a way of initiating conversation. It is really uncomfortable and he invades your space and is extremely persistent. So for anyone who lives in the DC or NoVa area if you encounter this man, who appears to use this ploy at grocery stores around the area regularly, please involve the store security immediately. I know I will if I ever have the misfortune of running into him again.
While I was biking to work a man in a nice car pulled up next to me and said “hey, beautiful.” He looked like the man who raped me and I’ve spent all day wondering if he’s found me again.
During my first year of graduate school, I was in charge of a residence hall as part of my graduate assistantship. Because of my position, I was expected to be helpful and friendly to the residents, and to be readily available as I lived in the dorm. It was about 1:30 in the morning, and there was a knock at my door. I open it to find a male resident standing there. He immediately began to hit on me, first saying how hot I looked in my pajamas (sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt). I told him it was inappropriate, so he then started asking asking if I’d go out to a party with him. When I said no, he then repeatedly asked me for my phone number. I told him I was not going to give him my number, and then he started to try to push his way into my room. I slammed the door in his face, and he started yelling through the door calling me a bitch. I called campus police. By the time they showed up, he was gone. They told me to not call back unless he showed signs of physical violence.
After this interaction, he started to follow me around. He didn’t live on my floor, but he would always be out in the common area of my floor when I would leave my room. He would come down and just stare at me while sitting in the main lobby during my office hours. It got to the point that the male RAs in my building would stick around during my office hours as well because they knew how scared I was of him. He also began doing the same thing he was to me to my female RAs, and the other girls in the building. It got to the point that no girl in the building would go anywhere by themselves, even to do laundry. Because he was not being physically violent towards any of us, though, campus police wouldn’t do anything.
After two weeks of this, I couldn’t take it any more. I was playing pool with a few people, and he was getting a little too close to me. I turned around and hit him in the face with the pool stick I was holding. His nose started to bleed. He got angry, and I told him that if he did any of what he had been doing again, he’d get a lot worse. He left me, and all the other girls in my building alone after that.
I knew that working in India as a single, light-skinned woman who did not speak a word of any Indian languages would not be a walk in the park. However, I was not expecting the onslaught and veritable inundation of street harassment. I live in Goa, which is known to be one of India’s most liberal, progressive provinces. But stepping outside my home near my job, I would never know it.
At first, I thought the constant calls of “Hello, beautiful!” and “Be my girlfriend!”or “Give me your number!” were just harmless fun, trying to grab the attention of an obvious tourist. I had a rude awakening of that when a man outside my apartment complex told me he loved me. I laughed it off as he reached out to shake my hand. When I gave it to him to shake, he wouldn’t let go, and took my hand and attempted to shove it down his pants. I managed to get away and ran back into my apartment, where my roommate, a Ghanian man, was as shocked about the ordeal as I was.
That’s another way we’ve been harassed here in Goa. As we’re living together (we’re colleagues and work at the same NGO), my Ghanian roommate and I go out to eat rather frequently. I’ve grown to accept that people will stare at the two of us when we’re together or when we’re alone, but people will also say very racist things to the both of us and constantly take pictures of us, with or without our consent. Again, at first I didn’t mind this and attributed it to the fact that we were a novelty. However, as people continued to treat us like we were some toy to be played with, I became a little less happy with the situation. This experience was epitomized by one night when my roommate and I went out to a club. People were constantly asking for our pictures, and finally, wanting to have a good night and not pose for photos the whole time, we started saying no. Instead of accepting that answer, locals would grab us by the arm, leg, and (I can’t say they did this to him, but they definitely did it to me) butt, and drag us into pictures and dances. Men kept taking my drinks from me, drinking out of them, and throwing them on the floor. I started to flip off the camera or do the “WoW” symbol with my face every time they forced me into pictures with them unwillingly, so if you see any of those on the internet, know that I didn’t want them taken and those people are not my friends – in fact, from the way they treated us, I sort of doubt that they considered my roommate and I as particularly human. After about two hours of being paraded around as some sort of carnival freaks merely because of the color of our skin, a security guard noticed and escorted US out, saying we were causing too much of a stir – doing nothing about the others. All of this happened at the biggest (and perhaps most touristy) club in Baga – Tito’s Beach Club.
In the town that I live, I’ve been followed down streets, photographed without my consent, chased after, grabbed, and groped. Men have tried to pay me for sex constantly, offering 400 rupees (about $8) if I’ll have sex with them, and not relenting until I start yelling. In perhaps what was the scariest instance while I’ve been here, I took a wrong turn on the way back from work. I’d been working late, so it was dark, and I was alone. First, a security guard tried to force me to come into an apartment complex, saying that it was where I lived. Because I am not an idiot, I knew was not mine. Luckily enough, a cab was nearby and I hopped inside. My fears were not quelled as the driver took me on some roundabout, clearly incorrect way of getting to the place that I was going. As I knew where we were and were going into a much less populated area, I demanded he let me out of the car. He wouldn’t, but when I opened my window and made a scene he started to drive directly towards my apartment. There, he wouldn’t let me out of the cab, insisting we go get coffee or that he let me inside. I wouldn’t do it, and was struggling to find the lock for the door when the security guard from my apartment complex came over and asked what was happening. After a conversation with the cabbie in the local language, the cabbie demanded my phone number and he said he would leave, if I would go to get coffee with him tomorrow. I didn’t see that I had any choice, so I gave him my number. Since then, he has called or texted me saying he loves me every single day, trying to meet up. It’s been 2 weeks. I’ve blocked his number, but he keeps calling on friends’ phones or getting friends to call me and ask me if I’m still in Goa. At this point, since he knows where I live, I’m actually pretty worried he’s going to show up outside my apartment. I really wish I’d gotten his license plate.
I knew that working in India as a white female wouldn’t be easy. But really, it would be a breeze if the harassment would stop.