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The above link is not my story, but the story of another woman…similar to stories everywhere, including my own. The injustice. The shame. The embarrassment. The rage.
I was cursed with beauty and in my youth and had dozens of my own experiences: sexual harassment and assault, cat calls, blatant staring at my breasts or crotch, whistles, honking, men masturbating in public near me, etc. I’m thankful to be middle-aged now–I am almost invisible.
I saw a post on FB today: When a man is raped, no one talks about what he was wearing.
I got off the bus on Aurora and Prospect St. in Queen Anne in Seattle, and I had only walked a block before I was shouted at by 3 different vehicles. Sorry fellas… I do not appreciate being leered and yelled at. I could not wait to turn down the next street.
I got on the Fraser bus to go home from school and as soon as I sat down there was this man sitting in front of me, late 30’s early 40’s maybe. Anyways, I could tell right away from the way he was looking at me that he was bad news (I’ve had to deal with lots of creeps before, but he was the worst), as he kept staring at me incessantly with a very strange glare in his eyes. As soon as I could, I moved seats on the bus but he kept following me. When I reached my stop, he got off as well, he even stood up right when I did. Then he started following me home, and I decided it was better not to lead him there, so I took a different route, all the while this creep is following only 3 feet behind me.
I turned into an alley and grabbed the only thing in my bag I could find to defend myself, then I confronted him and asked if he was following me. Then he started to say things like, “Please, don’t do this, I love you, please.” I have never met this man before in my life. I’ve taken self defense courses before and at this point I decided to get aggresive to scare him. I picked up some rocks, started screaming for him to get the f*** away from me but he wouldn’t so I picked up more rocks and he started to walk back slowly, but with this demented smile that made me feel really nervous. I then turned and ran when he was far enough away and ran into some more a**holes who pulled up next to me in a car and asked me if I wanted to party (I mean seriously, where do all these jerks come from), but I ignored them and kept walking. Luckily I ran into my brother shortly after, and he walked me home. Then I called the police to report the stalker but I don’t think they ever found out who he is. Since then I carry pepper spray everywhere I go.
To the dude harassing me in Walmart: you’re disgusting. Women’s bodies are not your property. You’re “mmm baby” and “I like that” comments were vulgar as you walked passed me and looked at me like I liked it. I sneered at you and told you “are you fucking serious?” Before I walked away. My only regret is I didn’t snap a pic of your ugly mug and upload it with this post.
Walking my dog at night while talking to a friend on the phone, I heard someone behind me getting closer. He kept saying “girl, girl slow down” and “common don’t be that way.”
I didn’t think he was talking to me because I am a post transition trans man with facial hair, and I was in deep conversation. My dog stopped to smell something and I saw the shadow of his hand reaching toward my ass. He was only a foot away. I turned around, looked him in the eye, and said loudly, “Hey!” He pulled his hand back, and I started walking away quickly trying to get to the well-lit 300 N.
I informed my friend on the phone of the situation, where I was, and gave a description of the dude…He continued following me shouting, “Hey it, hey he-she, I got something for your mouth.”
He followed me for 8 blocks turning where I turned and ducking behind bushes so I couldn’t see him then popping out and cat calling again. I kept my friend on the phone with location updates until I turned a sharp corner and hid in an apartment complex until he went by so I could get home.
I am so grateful for my friends at Hollaback! Baltimore who taught me things to do in these situations because this could have turned out much worse. I’m still shaken but I decided to post on here right away so others in Salt Lake City could be aware in this part of town at 11pm.
Dude description: white dude ,skinny , guessing 5’8 ish, patchy mustache and chin hair, buzzed head and a neck tat of words.
I live right in downtown San Jose, and men in my cul de sac have made multiple sexual comments about me over the past few weeks. I usually turn back and give the asshole who said it a piece of my mind. The fourth (!!) guy to do it immediately freaked out when I approached him, calling me a “rude ugly bitch.” Now when I walk past they all yell about how I’m such a dumb bitch.
The cops won’t do anything “until they touch me.” A+ for San Jose PD.
I was walking to my bus stop this morning, and I saw the bus go by, meaning I missed it. So I stopped to look at my phone to find the next time. Then this man in a car passed by me, smiled, and parked at the nearby restaurant. When he got out, he kept saying “sweetie,” so I started walking fast, but he kept yelling for me. As I was walking towards a safe place, I saw his car driving back around. He turned around and pulled by me, continuing to yell. I finally yelled for him to fuck off and he cussed back at me and drove off.
My name is Lara, I’m 15 years old. All of the cases of street harassment have been while I was running, and this time was no exception. I was out on a rather long run, and I had stopped at an intersection to catch my breath and wait for traffic to clear. Suddenly, I was approached by a group of young teenage boys that couldn’t have been any older than 13 years old. They asked me if my side hurt from running, as well as another question I didn’t quite hear. As I jogged away they yelled, “She got an ass though!” at me. I didn’t really feel threatened by this, but these kids were so young, and they were already perpetrating street harassment. I found that sad.
I just experienced sexism in the workplace, and I stomped it out. Success!
I work in the upstairs area of a building with several other co-workers. Most of my colleagues upstairs are male (this will be relevant).
There is only one printer upstairs, with approximately thirteen people using it on a daily basis. As a result, the paper in the machine runs out fairly quickly. I refill the machine about twice per month. In order to do so, I must retrieve the paper from a supply closet downstairs. In my two years of working where I do, only once has another person retrieved more paper for the printer. Twice, if you count another person who only needed more paper for their own print job.
I usually hear at least one comment from someone as I’m going back upstairs with the box of paper. It’s heavy, but I’m able to carry it for the short time it takes. The comments are mostly about how a man should be carrying it, a man should be helping me, etc. These comments come from both men and women, who have been conditioned to believe that women are fragile and weak. Brainwashing is a scary thing, folks!
I normally respond to these comments with a sarcastic laugh, a “Riiight,” or something light. But today, I didn’t! Because sexism is a load of crap. It really is.
Whenever I go into the supply closet, I usually need to tell one of my co-workers downstairs that I’m taking a box of paper, so that they can then inform the person who is responsible for replenishing the closet. This person is a man (this will also be relevant).
Well, today this person was going into the closet, so I went directly to him to ask if I could get in and take a box of paper. He warmly obliged, and unlocked the door for me.
Here’s how the dialogue proceeded:
Him: “You just need some paper?”
Me: “Yeah, just one box of 8.5″ x 11″. Ah, here it is.” *crouches down to pick it up*
Him: “Whoa, you’re going to take that whole box upstairs? Can’t you get one of the guys up there to get it?”
Me: *pauses mid-crouch without making eye-contact* “What, am I not worthy or something?”
Him: “Nah, it’s just… What are you, 135, 130?”
Me: “Hell if I know, man.”
Him: “And that box is about 45 pounds, so-”
Me: *cuts him off* “Yeah, I got it. I do this all the time.”
Him: “Well why don’t you just take the reams up separately?”
Me: *laughs* “Nah, I got it.”
Him: “You can just take half of the paper up today, and then come back for the rest tomorrow. How about that?”
Me: “Nah, I’m good. I need the paper today.” *picks up the box and starts walking out*
Him: “Okay… Well I’ll close the door behind you.”
His tone was incredibly infantilizing when he was asking me to take half of the paper today, and half tomorrow. It was like he was trying to negotiate with a child. Too funny.
It did shut him up, though. The ratio of a person’s stature to the weight of an object is not a valid argument. It was strange how he continued to come up with anything to deter me.
The funny thing is, everybody wants to be the hero when it comes to seeing a woman carry something heavy, especially up stairs. They all want to be saviors and help the damsel in distress, but they can’t be bothered to get off their asses and do it when it needs to be done in the first place. They could be the ones going downstairs for the paper initially, but it’s better for their ego to be a white knight instead.
NOT WITH ME. Don’t ever believe anyone who tells you that you can’t do something because you’re a woman or girl. Trust in yourself enough to know that if you need help, you will ask for it. But otherwise, YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO DO.
So I was walking to an ice cream store in a cute town in Massachusetts with my parents, my aunt, uncle, and cousin. I see a pickup truck driving in our direction with some guy in a snapback sticking his head out the window. He actually yelled “nice legs” out of his car while looking at me while I was with my family. Disgusting.