Walking alone on the phone at 8pm and a tall man quite young and I think with women walking in other direction. He looks at me. I look back and he walks past my left, close, making a ‘woof’ noise that shocked me, I shout ‘why would you do that?’ and he says it’s tourettes…so probably a sexist who wants to interrupt and make women jump for a laugh…doubt he’d do it to a man…except maybe a disabled man.
I have been harassed 4 times this week by some men on scaffolding. Something I have come to accept in daily life as the norm. My male friends seem not to know or understand this is happening and my female friends don’t talk about it. After having these men shout again today at me more sexual profanities I decided to call the police once I took the long way home avoiding these men.
Once I was though to the police ( a woman) I was really happy to be talking to a woman. But not for long. The police woman seemed to think I was blowing everything out of proportion and suggested I go up to these men in the street and tell them how it was making me feel and that they should stop. Any woman who knows what type of situation this is will know that this will not only fan the flames and encourage but will bring the spotlight on me more. This will cause a scene and they will most likely laugh and shout more. I wouldn’t want them to see my face more and give them any kind of satisfaction of communicating with them. Plus since they are only a few houses away, they will know where I live.
After I told the police woman this, she then stated against me. “What are you even expecting them to do” she said to me. I held on the phone in science and in my mind felt like shouting ” Rape me” “Follow me” “Harass me more” isn’t it bad enough that they are already verbally abusing me everyday? I said “Sorry I don’t understand, why are you not taking me seriously?” I think she then was worried as she said should be then look up the address and try and call residents and tell them the police have had a complaint.
Since I was around 11 I have noticed and experienced this sort of abuse from men. Since I have been brought up only by my mother I had grown to think men and woman are equal. After hearing a woman police officer sympathise with these men I even questioned it myself. Maybe I was being too much of a wimp or that I need to be stronger… but NO! its not right, and it never is. I say complain every time, tell people what happened, educate friends about what you have gone through and MAKE IT KNOWN.
I walk everywhere, shopping, for exercise, or just to enjoy nature. There is a building under construction in the lot across from my home, and the men working there catcall when I walk by everyday.
I’ve heard whistles, shouts, “Hey Baby”, and rude questions about if I’m cold in my shorts. I’m doing my best to ignore them, and I dress how I like, go out when I like, and I haven’t let them stop me. I probably wont be shopping in whatever kind of business it is when it finishes construction, however.
My roommate and I have lived in Nashville for about a year now. It was 9 am and we were walking to get breakfast pastries at a place downtown that had been recommended to us. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt because it was already 80 degrees out (southern weather is no joke). We were almost to the door of the bakery when we passed two guys on the street. I didn’t look at them or interact with them in any way, but as we were passing them, one called out to me and said, “Damn, look at those legs. Your parents did something right.”
I’ve heard comments before, especially since I’ve lived in Chicago my whole life, so I didn’t think much of it. But when we got inside, my roommate and I talked about it and realized that it’s NOT okay to THINK it’s okay. Women shouldn’t have to be subjected to comments like these and think it’s a form of flattery. I hope more people read these stories and share them so that society will stop objectifying women and instead, learn how to respect us.
In middle school I rode the bus like many kids my age, but unlike most kids I inherited my fathers bright red hair, so I stood out. Upon puberty I started getting asked by the boys on my bus whether the “drapes matched the carpet” I refused to answer. Problems like this occured several times through school, even once or twice women would ask me with a smirk, or call me names like “fire crotch”. My hair color, a gift from my father at birth, has made me into an object for men. Many times I have been told “I have a thing for redheads” by complete strangers. I have been fetishized by the male population, to the point that for 4 years during my highschool years I would cover it up with a hat or hood, or just keep it chopped off to avoid that kind of attention. I have grown stronger and have accepted that it is one of my best assets, but it does not define me as a woman, I am not “great in bed” just because of my appearance. I am not “easy” because my appearance dictates it. I am a woman with a happy bf who loves every part of her, looks and mind.
This is only one of the many problems I have faced as a woman, I have an interest in machines and that has gotten me harassed in other ways, but that is for another story
Everyday after work I walk by this area that I cant avoid because there is no other way home but. There are these houses that are for men that work in the fields and every day without failure. They are there just waiting. They call out disgusting remarks and whistle. It’s the worse part of my day. Even with my earphones in and music blasting I can hear them. I don’t run by because they make a bigger deal about it. They do it to any female that walks by which is so bad because most of the females are young girls who are in middle school.#SexObject
A couple weeks ago I was followed home in the most aggressive manner I have ever experienced. Let me first set the scene by noting that I have already been dealing with a peeping tom at my house for over a year now, and despite my numerous calls to the police, reaching out to several of my neighbors and asking them to keep an eye out for suspicious behavior, and my own personal two dog security system, I haven’t felt at ease in my own home in longer than I can remember. Nowhere is safe. But thats not the story here.
I host at a restaurant in San Francisco, and on this particular Tuesday night the restaurant was DEAD, and I was sent home at around 6. It being a sunny beautiful day I decided to walk the 30 min walk from the BART station to my house. About 5 blocks away from my home a beat up white KIA pulled up to the sidewalk just ahead of me and a strange man tried to call out an offer for a ride. I ignored his offer and kept walking, didn’t even look his way. He turned the car around, and tried again. And again. And again. He circled around three times for every block I walked, yelling more and more insensitive offers, turned forceful demands. I never once looked his way. Eyes forward I walked, but I knew just where he was at all times, he made it clear he wasn’t going away that easily.
5 blocks of this until I turned on to the street before my own street and he was still there. I started to feel panicked. I did not want to give the man the power of knowing where I lived. I was minutes away from my already unsafe house, and he showed no signs of letting up.
But now I was in my neighborhood, passing the man that I smile at nearly every day as I walk past him people watching on his porch, and just a few houses down from two other men working on their car in the driveway. I finally felt like the odds were stacked a little more in my favor. In all honesty the men probably would have done nothing to help me, but all I could tell myself was at least there were 3 other people around that could witness this part of the incident.
As the KIA pulled over for its grand finale I grabbed a large rock from the yard adjacent to me, and yelled over the man, as loud as I could. Finally there were at least people around to hear me. I screamed out to the man, told him if he turned his car around one more time, or tried to speak one more foul word to me I would hurl this rock directly through his windshield. And sure enough, he circled around one more time, only this time he never stopped. He sped right past me, and headed back to whatever shit hole it was he came from.
President-elect of the Philippines, Rodrigo Duterte cat-called a reporter, Mariz Umali: “The President-elect said “Nagpapapansin ka talaga sa akin (You’re really trying to catch my attention),” then made a wolf whistle. People in the audience can be heard laughing and cheering.”
Man on the street, I thought he was going to the same party I was when he said “Hey, what’s happening?”
I turn around and see him pulling his penis out. I roll my eyes, open the door with the code, close the door behind me.
I pull out my phone to take a photo – all while hoping he did not have the code to the door.
He first tries to hide his face. Then he sees I’m persistent. He storms the door and starts yelling. I tell people in the hallway what happened. Everyone starts yelling at each other.
He didn’t have the code.
As a girl from a small town in Alaska, I’ve not been subjected to or ever seen cat-calling (or street harassment) in any form before (except on TV). That all changed once I moved to the Capital District of New York a couple weeks ago.
I don’t have a car most days (my boyfriend takes it to work daily), so I walk to/from the grocery store or library or etc by myself fairly often. I’ve gotten cat-called multiple times during my walks.
Earlier today, I was minding my own business while heading home from the store (I was out of milk and needed some for my coffee) when a guy in the backseat of some car at a stoplight yelled something like “Hey Momma!” or “Hey Honey!” at me. I was the only person on the street. Ignoring it, I continued my walk home, all the while worrying that maybe the car turned around. That maybe the car I hear coming up behind me is the guy (and his friends) coming back.
I arrived home safely, and am thankful for the locked-door policy of my apartment building (key card only access to the lobby and elevators). But it still bugs me how much one phrase yelled by some random stranger made me feel so insecure and scared.