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I was walking home from work. It was not even dark outside. A man walking towards me had a shifty look in his eyes. I immediately got a bad feeling but kept walking which was a huge mistake. Right before he got to me he said “nice boobs” and grabbed my chest and ran off like the coward that he is. This was years ago but I never forgot it. Now I am paranoid when I walk down the street even though I don’t live in the same city. I did report it to the police and they accepted the report without fail but they never “caught” the guy. After it happened I ran home and I had this overwhelming feeling of disgust. I wanted to vomit, it made me feel so violated.
I walk the same few blocks in my city almost daily, and had never felt unsafe until a few weeks ago. I was on my normal route, with my music playing in my ears. I keep it low just to be aware of noises around me, which allowed me to hear vague yelling. I pulled one earbud out and looked around. There was a silver sports car with two guys in it right behind me, and the driver was yelling something out of his window. I didn’t hear much except “… fine ass, baby!!” Not knowing what else to do, I put the earbud back in and kept walking. The car then pulled into a driveway a few metres ahead of me. I did not know what to do. I stopped in my tracks, took my earbuds out, and waited for their next move. This was in broad daylight on a fairly busy street! The passenger door opened, and I glanced at the houses around me trying to assess where I could potentially go for safety. Thankfully, a door opened in a house across the street and a man stood on his porch pointedly staring at the car. The driver must have seen the man, as he yelled to the passenger to “get in the car!” The passenger got back in the car and the car sped away. I waved at the man on the porch and continued on my way, albeit with my heart pounding a little harder and a much more wary eye on the street.
I was delighted to hear of your website – what a wonderful idea.
I also thought it would be so freeing to share my stories. Don’t know if they will be very relevant, because it is a collection, but I decided to share anyhow. Keep in mind that I am an ordinary looking girl, quiet and modest in dress and demeanor. I am only reporting incidents that took place in the street or on public transport.
As a child of age 7-8:
• Two boys of about 10-11 followed me home along the road and tried to pull down my pants (I was wearing a dress). My parents later tracked them down and spanked them!!
As a teenager aged 13-16:
• while buying something at a roadside kiosk, a young man behind me reached between my legs;
• when at farmers markets I had men try to put hand on my backside (more than once);
• when walking down the street on my way home after school, a young man blocked my way, and asked where I was going. I said, “home”. He said, “where is home?” I randomly pointed to a stranger’s house across the street and said, “there!” I proceeded to march across the street while the man grabbed and slightly tore a frill on my blouse, and also tried to grab my hair. I opened the garden gate (fortunately unlocked), and walked right into the backyard of the unknown house. The young man finally let go when I pushed inside the gate. A surprised child was playing in the yard, and his kind mother let me call my mom to come get me and drive me home. After hearing the story my mom was very angry and wanted to track down the man who had harassed me, but I was terrified and begged her not to.
As a young adult (‘20s):
• Was flashed when walking the gardens of a public park.
• When riding in crowded tram, standing and holding onto an overhead grip, felt man press his body against mine from behind – uggggghhh! But unable to move because it was so crowded, and I couldn’t clearly see who was doing this. Felt helpless and so angry at that disgusting man.
• When walking through the edge of a public park, a man walking towards me suddenly reached up and put his hands on my breasts as he passed me.
• (This next story has a satisfying ending): I had recently attended a 1 hour self-defense presentation at my workplace, and was reading a book as I rode the subway home (BART). I noticed out of the corner of my eye, that the man seated next to me had put his hand on the seat, and was gradually inching it closer and closer to my leg as I read. I realized he was planning to touch my leg. My first instinct would have been to move, but because of that self-defense presentation, I decided to stay put because to move would be to just give in. I watched the hand s-l-o-w-l-y move closer until finally it brushed against my leg – and at the moment I instantly slapped his hand hard, and loudly said, “Get your hands off me, you creep!!!!!” Then I went back to reading my book (of course, not seeing a word on the page! ) The man pulled his hand back and cowered into the corner of the seat, and said, “Sorry!” I hoped that my response might cause that man to think twice before doing that to another woman.
These incidents seem very minor, but the fact that they stand out so much in my memory shows that sexual harrasment is no joke and truly causes harm.
I was walking down the street on Friday night by myself. I was on my way to a bar to meet my boyfriend and some of his friends. I was dressed like any other college girl would be dressed on a Friday night. I had on a relatively short dress and high heels. Now I’m a strong believer in the idea that what a person is wearing shouldn’t matter and doesn’t mean a woman or a man is asking to be violated. But in this case what I was wearing does have something to do with the verbal assault I endured. The dress I was wearing was black and white with horizontal stripes. As I was walking a man probably in his 50′s made a comment to the group of men he was with about the girl dressed like a referee. I ignored it and started walking faster. The man ran up to me and asked if I was a replacement referee for the football game tomorrow. I politely said no and started walking again. He proceeded to tell me he was joking, probably because he thought I was too dumb to figure it out on my own, and said “You look very pretty, good for you.” As I walked down the street I counted all of the men that said something or looked at my body as I walked past them. I counted at least 10. The street harassment that takes place at Penn State is outrageous and it happens to more women than anyone thinks. Men think its ok to comment on what a woman is wearing or how she looks, and its not. I was disgusted with the men that were commenting on my outfit and my looks, they invaded my personal space and made me feel unsafe. No woman should ever feel like this when walking down the street. The streets should be safe for everyone.
Whenever I go somewhere alone, someone verbally harasses me. They say disgusting things, they honk, they try to start conversation, ask for my number. I am always afraid when I am alone, and I can even tell when someone is contemplating approaching me. I glare or pretend I’m on my phone.
My first two years of college I went to an all-women’s liberal arts school in the midwest. Boys loved to drive down the main road that goes right through the middle of campus. There’s a lot of catcalling involved, they revved their trucks up a bunch. Even today I catch myself flipping off anyone who honks at me out of habit.
My best friend and I were walking down the street to get McDonald’s around nine or ten at night. A car full of boys spotted us on the sidewalk, yelled from their windows and sped off only to turn around again on the next street. They passed us again and said “show us some skin!” and again “take it off!” By this point they had a megaphone from some high school that wasn’t Nevada’s. The fourth time, they threw change at us and sped off for the final time. Yes, change. Nickels, pennies, dimes. The rest of our trip consisted of rage and a faster pace.
We were Cottey girls, very confident and proud to be women. There was nothing we could’ve done in that situation, the only escape were unlighted back streets. I felt vulnerable, unsafe and pissed off there was nothing I could do about it, except tell my story. But believe me, if i had ANYTHING to throw at them I’d have scared the bastards past Kansas City.
Nevada isn’t full of jerks, just like all guys aren’t jerks. Being an asshole has nothing to to with gender, just your sole ability to be an asshole.
I was walking with a local guy friend of mine at night back to the school from town. A police officer stopped us and questioned him. He asked where we had been and where we were going.
“I’m taking her back to the girl’s school..”
The officer looked at me and asked “Willingly?” No sarcasm hinted, no smile. Dead serious.
He said goodnight and drove off. It’s sad the officer assumed he was a bad person because he was alone with a girl at night.
I was crossing the street on my way to Union Square when a man walking beside me asked about the name on my shopping bag. I told him it was a store. He asked what they sold and I responded “clothes.” He then became very angry saying, “Oh, you’re going to give me attitude? You think you’re better than me?” and then proceeded to call me names and threatened to “bash my head in.” He was shouting in a crowded street in broad daylight and all people did was watch. I immediately turned around and began walking the other way. He yelled “I see where you’re going slut!”and continued to follow me. I saw a security guard standing outside of a Bank of America and stood beside him until the man passed me. I was shaking and terrified.
Man on a train approached me when I was sitting reading and repeatedly told me how sexy I was and when I told him I was going to meet my boyfriend he said ‘oh so you’re not going to fuck me in the toilets then’ it was in an empty train carriage at 22:30 at night I was terrified.
I was walking to my bus stop when a man decided to give me the “once over” and made lewd comments about my physical appearance.
I have experienced street harassment. Last year, I walked past an Italian restaurant in Watertown, near Boston, when two men hollered at me from the patio. These men looked about 75 years old, and I was 16 when this happened. They told me, “Hey girl! Come over here!” I know that doesn’t sound like much, but I really felt offended. I hadn’t approached them or talked to them or anything, and yet it seemed that they saw a young woman and thought I must be a good target. I was worried about what they would do. There were no witnesses, so all I could do was run away. Thankfully, I haven’t seen them since. But the memory continues to haunt me.