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I was dressed in normal workout clothes, jogging at the country club near my house in the off season when there weren’t golfers. There’s a chain link fence that divides the golf course from the road that runs parallel.
A car that was driving beside me on the other side of the fence slowed down and a man stuck his head out of the window. I knew what was coming.
“You lookin’ good out there girl!”
I had been so fed up with street harassment and felt safe enough with a fence between us that I just flipped him off and kept running.
“Why the fuck you flippin me off?” he snapped at me. I didn’t respond. “I was giving you a compliment, why you flippin me off?” he insisted.
“You’re being disrespectful,” I shouted to him.
“You’re the one who’s flippin’ people off, you fuckin white bitch. That’s what I think is disrespectful. Suck DICK.”
And he sped off.
My heart was racing by the end of the conversation. A chain link fence couldn’t stop bullets. My husband and I moved into a house we could afford despite our the student loan debt which meant we had to move into a new area.
I know it’s wrong to be harassed, but it’s not safe to confront harassers. I came home and told my husband and male roommate what I had done. They looked at me like I was stupid. “You could have gotten yourself hurt.”
*I* could have gotten *myself* hurt. If something had happened. It would have been MY fault.
It’s hard for me to have the courage to stand up for myself.
I went into a Walgreens last week to pick up a calendar I had made in the photo department. There were two young men in the section, one that worked there, and another who was trying to print something next to me. The man at the counter was helping me while I examined the calendar when all the sudden I heard the second man say, “Hey, I’m talking to you. You probably didn’t realize it but I am.” I just looked at him with a confused look on my face. He said, “I just wanted to tell you that you look very nice. Your outfit is really nice. I don’t mean any disrespect by that, I just wanted to tell you.” It was awkward but I just said thank you and looked back at my calendar. The man just kept talking though. He said, “I don’t want you to think I’m disrespecting you, I just wanted to give you a compliment.” The guy behind the counter shook his head like he thought the man was ridiculous but said nothing. In the end, the only way I could get the man to stop talking to me was to assure him that I took it as a compliment and that I wasn’t offended. Now that I think about it though, I shouldn’t have to assure someone that being creepy and weird is ok. Even if it is a compliment, I don’t owe you anything for saying it to me and I certainly shouldn’t have to reassure you that bothering me is ok.
Yesterday afternoon, two construction workers took a long stare at my rear end when I walked by and one exclaimed to the other “Wow. That’s nice.”
I get this ALL the time. If I could walk by men on the street without them seeing my rear somehow, I would. Unfortunately, that’s impossible.
This time I was so angry after having learned about a friend who was raped by a massage therapist, that I turned to the men and said “Are you talking to me?” At first they replied “Yeah! Yes!”, very pleased with themselves. Then I loudly said “I do NOT appreciate that!” They looked shocked and were pretty much speechless. Then they tried to backpedal as if they hadn’t said something offensive to me, claiming “Oh no, I was just saying ‘Oh my god'”, as if it was just a passing comment not even related to me. I gave them a good long scolding and angry stare, and then went on my way.
I’m sure my scolding won’t stop these men’s behavior, but maybe it will make them think just a bit more about what effect their misogynistic comments might have on women. I hope so.
If you’re a woman in NYC, without fail this happens to you every day. When I lived on the UWS there was this spot right by my apartment door where men congregated and they would catcall me every day. (It’s a basement level barber shop on W 83rd St. between Columbus and Amsterdam). There were days I didn’t want to leave. There were times I felt ashamed, or embarrassed. And there have been many many times I have felt unsafe. I have also been followed by men. What people around the country don’t realize when reacting to your PSA, is that in NYC everyone HAS to walk to get around. There is no way for women to avoid this. And as your video shows it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. I have been catcalled when I was dressed conservatively, on bad hair days with no make up, and in winter wearing a giant puffy coat. Across the board, every woman I know in NYC deals with this problem, no matter their background or appearance.
I recently came to France to study for a single semester and the 2nd day I was here, I was walking down the street with my new roommate (she and I were going to get some food and chat to get to know each other) and this RANDOM guy (who I’ll admit, I didn’t even notice at first because he was shouting at us in French) started following us and kept calling “Bonjour, bonjour.. Bon midi… HELLO? Excuse me, hello?”. I only turned around once I noticed someone speaking English (as that’s what my ear is used to) and he caught up to us and started trying to talk in French. Long story short, I didn’t understand him but my roommate did and she was translating for me… he kept calling us beautiful, kept saying he wanted to talk to us, kept saying that he wanted to know where we lived, TOOK OUR PICTURE (which I’m pretty sure were showed the most uncomfortable looking faces), then said he was going to kiss us goodbye (on the cheeks – as this is French custom) and wanted our numbers. When we said we needed to leave now, he asked us where we were going and we just said “out for some food” and he even INVITED HIMSELF TO COME WITH US. We obviously said no. But, I felt so awkward and under pressure even though I refused to give him any of our information. So he insisted on giving us his number and was like “promise you’ll call me when you get a French number”. HA, sure, pal. First thing on my to-do list.
Now, I’m not really used to that kind of thing because I’m not seen as a “conventionally” beautiful woman. I don’t have curves, I’m very petite. But this was insane. We were giving him very obvious signals that we weren’t interested and wanted to get away. I know that we stood our ground (to some extent) but we definitely should have been harsher and more firm. I guess that’s the patriarchal conditioning getting the better of me. Don’t wanna “let them down too hard”. I’m not a mean person but I don’t feel like men should find it acceptable to just approach women like that. Telling someone to have a nice day doesn’t seem so insidious to me, but all the other bullshit really gets to me. This experience in France so far hasn’t been repeated, but I was utterly shocked at how intense it was. I don’t want to feel like I have to look over my shoulder when I walk down the street because some dude with a self-entitlement complex feels like because I am female he deserves something from me.
Get whistled and yelled at aggressively while wearing my large sloth t-shirt…. men are objectifying/ sexualizing sloths? NOW It’s gone too far because they surely couldn’t have been catcalling at me, I wasn’t asking for it at 10am on my way to class, not wearing makeup and wearing a simple sloth t-shirt.
21 years old and walking at 6pm in the Oxford Circus area of London wearing a big baggy jumper and dark tights, a man blocks my path and tells me he’d like to give me ‘an hour long orgasm’. When I tell him to leave me alone he calls me stuck up and arrogant. I experience verbal harassment in London on an almost daily basis and it’s disgusting.
I had on a short sleeved button up blouse and some black pants that are tight up top and then get wider from the thigh down. I had a bike helmet on, digging through my backpack, and some nasty guy walks by and says “dang!” So I whip around and he is watching me as he’s walking. I call him a weirdo, while giving him a dirty look. He looks away and keeps walking.
I’m an American and was walking down by the Seine River in Paris one night in 2010. A guy ran to catch up with me, and asked me a question in French. I turned my head to glance at him briefly, then immediately looked ahead again, without slowing down or stopping. When I looked at him, I quickly sized him up. His size was comparable to mine, and he was obviously drunk. I figured I could take him on if necessary, but if I needed a Plan B, there were groups of people around whom I figured I could run to for help.
Me: Je ne comprends pas le français. (I don’t understand French)
Him: (asked another question in French that I couldn’t understand)
Me: Je ne comprends pas.
Him: French (pause) kiss?
Me: (sternly) No.
He reached for my arm, and his hand brushed my elbow as I pulled it away and stopped walking, then threw my fist toward his face and stopped it just inches from his nose. Looking him dead in the eye, I told him slowly and sternly, “Get, the fuck, out of my, face.” He stood stunned for a few moments, looking at me as though I was crazy, then walked back in the direction from which he came.
In the four months I stayed in Paris, only one other guy followed me for a few blocks and tried to talk to me, but he wasn’t as annoying as that guy, nor did I feel threatened. Not like one guy in particular in Michigan…
I was working for a friend who owned a gas station. It was Saturday night, and I was all alone when a guy came in with his friend. This guy was very persistent asking me out, and I kept telling him I wasn’t interested. After several minutes, his friend finally told him, “She’s not interested. Let’s go,” and they left. Later that night, the guy came back by himself. I wasn’t behind the counter that time, and he was standing right next to me. He was much taller than I am, and I felt very intimidated. I kept telling him I wasn’t interested, trying to be polite but not too nice, but he kept asking me out. This whole time, I had my hand on my pepper spray, discreetly, ready to use it, but he was standing too close to use it safely, and was standing between me and the only way out of this small building. I was very nervous, and didn’t know what he was capable of doing. I finally lied and said, “Ok, meet me at (strip club 45 minutes away) tomorrow night. I’ll be working there.” He agreed, and started to leave. Once he reached the door and was far enough for me to use my pepper spray if needed, I said, “No, wait. I can’t let you go all the way out there. I won’t be there tomorrow night.” He asked why I lied, and I said, “Because you wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He was visibly upset, but left. I was worried that he might come back again and jump me as I was leaving for the night, but thank goodness, he never came back.
I don’t know why this guy seemed to believe he could change my mind when I was being very clear from the beginning that I wasn’t interested, but at the time, I only figured that if he didn’t respect my “No” to a date, would he not respect my “No” on a date if I had gone out with him? I hope that he was simply ignorant, and that I planted a seed in his mind that night that he needs to respect a woman’s “No” when she says it.
I was at a bar, wearing a Tina Turner-inspired fringe dress I had made for a contest in which I sang one of her songs. I was leaning over a counter to talk to someone over the loud music, when I felt someone behind me move the fringe of my costume. I turned my head to look behind me, and there was a guy bending over with his face near my butt for a closer look. Busted, he walked over to a group of people who were presumably his friends. I followed him, stood about 2 feet in front of him, looked him straight in the eye, and calmly but sternly told him, “If you touch me again, I’ll kick your fucking ass.” He looked a bit surprised, and quietly put his hands up like he was innocent. I kept looking him in the eye for a few more seconds to let him know I meant business, then walked away and told a bouncer what had just happened. The bouncer didn’t kick him out, but said he would if the guy bothered me again, but he didn’t bother me again.
Before I confronted this guy, I felt disgusted and humiliated. After I confronted him, I felt better again and was able to enjoy the rest of my evening. I wouldn’t recommend confronting a harasser in every case, but I felt it was safe to do so in this case.