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Last night a guy in a club stopped in front of me on the dancefloor, squeezed my cheek and told me to smile. I gave him the finger and walked off and heard him shouting about “WHY DID SHE GIVE ME THE FINGER” all the way to the smoking area. It was about as articulate I could be in a loud club environment where you can barely hear yourself think. Will prepare something wittier if there is a next time.
“Hey lady, wanna..” I said “come back and let me take your picture.” He came back and shielded his face when I took the snapshot, asking “why do you wanna take my picture?”
I was in a taxi going back to my boyfriend’s house from a night out at about 4 in the morning, and I was drunk. The taxi driver told me it would be 20$ and being drunk I handed him the money in order to not have to deal with it later.
He stopped the cab 3 blocks from my boyfriend’s house in a really quiet, dark neighborhood, and got out. I got out of the taxi and asked him why he wasn’t driving the next three blocks. He told me that if I didn’t suck his dick, he would leave me there and drive off.
I walked back to the house in the dark, hiding in the shadows because I was afraid. I’m furious that I didn’t take down his license number and report him.
When I was 16, I was walking to the bus stop in my nice, relatively safe neighborhood. As I passed an elementary school on a busy street, an adult businessman in a red sports car slowed down and offered me sex, a ride, and told me how hot I looked today. The most shocking thing was that he looked like he could be someones father, so normal and almost safe looking. I was horrified, and loudly told him I was 16, and why the hell did he think it was acceptable as a grown man to hit on a child? I told him his words were disgusting and inappropriate and walked away. Plenty of other people on the street heard and stared at the man with disgust. His shame and embarrassment at being called out was empowering.
Unfortunately, I don’t currently hollaback at street harassers. This event happened in Seattle, and I now live alone in Fresno and rarely leave my apartment as I don’t feel safe.
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on my way into wawa I hear “love that curly hair … and that sexy body”, I’m already inside and already too annoyed over missing work to respond because who knows what I’m getting myself into, what names I could be called, if I politely asked the man not to comment on my body loud enough for all the parking lot to hear, let alone if I started shouting like I half wanted to.
I go get some coffee and a cookie and on my way out another guy in a pickup calls out “girl you are so sexy” and I turned to yell “that’s kind of really offensive”, to which he responded “saaaaw-reeee” in that mocking singsong way bullies in elementary school do. gross.
I had moved to Philadelphia just a few days before and I was out exploring. I love my neighborhood. I’d grown up in the suburbs, but my family has a 70+ year history in the Federal St row-home where I live now. I decided to go check out 9th St (only tourists call it “the Italian Market!”) and start to learn what all is around, make myself at home here. There is a produce stand at 8th & Washington that, like the others further down, straddles the sidewalk. My path between the wooden crates of fruits and vegetables was partially blocked by a white-haired man with an enormous belly. He leered at me and looked me up and down. He smirked. I felt immediately angry at his intrusion into what had been a wonderful walk so far. With that simple act, the million other things on my mind and the beautiful day itself were suddenly and forcibly replaced, against my will, by this man, his body itself coupled with his very violent gaze. The rage in me was overpowering. It felt like the seconds it took me to walk up to, by, and away from him were stretched out into minutes. I started to shake, but I looked him in the eye and spit something awkward out like, “I bet it’s been a looooong time for you, huh?” I don’t care that it was ineffective (it always is, because his power is not about sex, it’s about asserting that the street is HIS turf and NOT mine,) I just wanted to keep my head up and try to look undeterred. I wasn’t, of course. That was 2 years ago and I still get so mad just thinking about it. I’ve avoided that intersection as much as possible even when it put me out of my way, and when I couldn’t avoid it, I’ve struggled to smirk back at him (he’s ALWAYS there, but I don’t know if he’s the owner) and look strong. I AM strong. I try very hard to maintain a balance in this city between keeping an eye out for potential dangers and just going about my life, but people like him make it harder. I don’t want this to be normalized anymore. I know it’s not always safe to hollaback, but I want us to get there. Advertizing individual perpetrators is tricky because it can help feed a myth that these are isolated incidents, but if we use the great opportunity set up by the folks here and tell our stories, the bigger picture will become clear. I know confronting is not always safe (and, please, always have your safety in mind,) but any action from giving the finger to snapping photos surreptitiously that will make you feel even slightly less powerless is worth considering. I’ll have your back.
Here is the video of my confrontation with him today. You can see the camera shaking, but it did feel good: http://youtu.be/oh417ONbwPg
A stranger grabbed my crotch on the metro today. and then tried to deny it and get away from me when I started screaming at him. eventually he mumbled ‘sorry’ and walked away and i didn’t have the energy to keep following him. but i’m proud of myself for yelling: you can’t treat women like that! you are disgusting! you should be ashamed of yourself! that is unacceptable! next time i’ll be mentally prepared to take the next step and report it.
Unfortunately I’m no stranger with harassment on the streets, having lived in Sydney and small country towns before Newcastle, I mean as appearances go I don’t consider myself unattractive, I’m not by any means thin, or conventional, but I take pride in myself and am careful to dress appropriately.
However the intensity and consistency of verbal and physical attacks since living here have been unprecedented, from having drinks thrown at me in bars, creeps asking incredibly personal things, even having my hair sniffed while walking the streets.
Mostly I try not to take too much notice, my long term boyfriend having even bought me a tazer to make me feel safer when I am out, and though it does its incredibly heartbreaking that it should come to that.
But rather to the point, I only just discovered this website and felt that I should share my most recent, and probably the most hurtful of experiences, being a late Sunday night, my boyfriend and I went for a walk to the 24hr grocery store to pick up some things so I could bake him some treats before he had to head home for work (he works rather odd houred shifts)
In my year of living here I was somewhat surprised to see the local club was going and quite lively, being familiar with the rather unkind crowd we opted to keep our distance and went on to do our shopping, however on our return as we took the same back streets avoiding the drunken crowds a car drove by slowly, a man leaning out the window screaming “fat slut!” at me as I stood there right next to my boyfriend, I felt completely humiliated, and angry for being judged at such a stupid hour on a Sunday night, I felt I had a right to be a little haggard, but I couldn’t dare even express the pain to my boyfriend as he silently ignored it, walking back home all I could do was try not to cry.
All I could ask myself was, “What kind of man would insult a woman, a complete stranger, in such a way? Why should anyone ever have to put up with such a public humiliation?”
I yet to understand, but I certainly found some solace in this site, I’m glad to not feel completely alone.
Reposted from Hollaback Czech Republic
by Alicia Brooks
There are certain things in your daily life that you do without even thinking about. Things like brushing your teeth, going to work, crossing the street or waiting in the inevitable line at the Albert. They have become such a part of your life that thinking about them would be redundant. You have been putting on your shoes for years, why bother giving it a second thought?
Taking public transit in Prague has become one of those things for me. I know which trams to take, what time the bus comes and what car I should get into for optimal speed upon exit. It’s clockwork. It’s clockwork except in the case of taking the night trams.
I swore off night trams when I swore off partying downtown. I like being able to walk home – or stumble home – as the case may be. But just this past week I found myself going home at 3am on a night tram. Twice. I had conveniently forgotten about the smell of puke, the loud drunks and the way it seems to take an eternity to get home no matter where you live.
Thursday night I was waiting at Narodni Trida for the 58 with my flat-mate. We had had a fun evening full of laughter and alcohol and topped it off with an always delicious and regrettable slice of street pizza. The tram was going to take another fifteen minutes to get to us, so we took a seat on the steel benches. My friend was regaling me with a story about something when I saw him. I didn’t want her to have to see what I was seeing so I tried not to change expression in any way.
He walked by us as if he were on one of those moving platforms they have at airports – slow and sooth. He wanted me to get a good look. He had his penis in one hand shaking it rapidly in my direction and the other hand (which was somehow far more offensive than the penis) was under his mouth, fingers in a peace sign tongue lapping at the air. The international sign for “lick pussy”. He seemed to walk in slow motion.
I think I was stunned into silence. As soon as he was out of sight I turned to my friend and said, “Holy shit! Did you see that fucking guy?” It was obvious to me that she hadn’t, and for that I was glad. One less person who has that image scarred on their retina. I recounted what I had witnessed and was met with multiple “Ewws”. I quickly remembered why I don’t like to take night trams.
One of the things that I refuse to get used to is harassment – in any form. A strange man shaking his genitals, an ass grab at a bar, yelling at me from across the street how “hot” or “fuckable” I am. It’s all harassment, and it will never be second nature as long as I continue to get pissed off about it.