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I live on a busy street in San Jose and cars are always flying by at a fast pace. Across the street is the salon that I frequent, and it is literally a few steps away across four lanes. I normally do not cross the street without using the crosswalk, but there is one day that I felt that I needed to jolt across. I waited for a red convertible Mustang to go by before I crossed the street, but they slowed down and then pulled over. He said, “Hey, don’t you go anywhere with an ass like that!” He then started screaming, “Come back here!!”, over and over. I ran into the salon and told them the man was harassing me.
They called 911 to report the man, as he was still outside looking at the salon while in his car. He stayed there for about 15 minutes waiting. The salon locked all of the doors and everyone was looking at him through the window. He pretended to be looking for something in his car and then finally drove away. What was he planning to do to me? Did he think I was actually going to walk back? I don’t think I have ever been so scared in my life.
One night about 7 years ago. My younger sister, her friend and I were having a late dinner at a Deli in Westwood, Ca. around 11pm. We were sitting in a section where it had about 4-5 tables and it was only us there. Then these two men, I would say in their 30’s, showed up and sat a table counter cross from us. From the moment they sat down, they were making cat calls and whisper sounds to us.
Throughout our dinner, they were talking to us and trying to get our attention, saying things like “come sit on our laps, the food will taste better” or “Come with me, I will show you a good time”. We ignored them or told them to shut up. I’m pretty sure they were drunk or on something because it was persistent. We decided not to tell the waiter, since we were leaving anyways. At this time, we finished with our food and decided to leave quick, because we were a little freaked out by them. We had to walk by their table to leave, because there was no other way out.
My sister walked in front of me and her friend behind me. As we passed, the guy who was making the most comments, decided to grab the wrist of my sister and tried to pull her into him. At that point I reacted and grabbed his wrist to make him let go and he wouldn’t. He stood up and still holding her wrist was gonna push me away. I used my forearm and body weight and pushed him up against the wall with my forearm at his throat, telling him to let her go. All of a sudden the other guy stood up and tried to get me off of him. That guy let go of my sister and I push him again and we ran out of the restaurant.
The servers saw this happen and called the police, but we didn’t know, because we were walking down the street, scared they were going to come after us. After we were about a block away, the cops found us and brought us back to the scene. When we were there, the guy that assaulted my sister was rolling around in the street screaming, crying and waling. By this point we were scared and the police kept asking what happened, beacuse the server only saw me push him against the wall. We had to explain the whole event and even then it was only backed up by some people who were sitting in an area near us.
The guy’s friend kept saying that we attacked them and his friend was only drunk. It was a mess, but the cops took our statements and realized that this guy was on something and was making problems with the cops and we were let go. We ended up leaving the place around 3am. Even though this story was a few years ago, I am still very cautious walking alone in places. I still get those looks and cat calls, but now I either ignore or tell them to shut up. Still freaks me out though. :/
I had to get a 6am bus on my own so I was walking up an empty street though it was light. A guy started to walk beside me and talk to me but in Spanish, I only know a little so I just did the smile and nod and kept walking, he continued to walk beside me and talk but I just continued to ignore him and walk faster. He then took my wrist and tried to pull me across the road, I managed to quickly lose his grip and then sprinted up the road.
Thank you for your work and for this opportunity to share my story.
While in New York, I experienced an inappropriate interaction while with my friend on the subway, in which a man “gave up his seat” for us. Though we had no need to sit down, nor did we event want to, we sat down and just tried to continue going about our conversation. The man spent spent the rest of the ride standing directly over and in front of my friend, whom he moved closer and closer to. All the while he was trying to engage us in conversation, as if that made what he was doing with his body somehow ok. It was a total violation of space and his physical closeness was extremely uncomfortable, offensive, and unwanted.
I was so upset by the whole experience, but wasn’t sure what I could do after the fact. I was upset with myself for not having said more during the interaction, and was at a loss for what could be done differently next time. With such frustration and confusion, I took to writing and composed a poem about the whole experience. I wanted to capture these emotions in the poem and to give myself a way to work through and do something about the interaction.
Until I can find something more, these words are my way of fighting back.
It was on the subway
He was one
And we were two
We were female
And he wasn’t
He gave up his seat
We gave up our choice
His giving felt more forced
The gift was not asked for
Did he give or did he take?
And what was it we received?
We sit, he stands
He stands, we sit
This time of power
He is too close
Evocating lewd gestures
It’s hard to imagine he doesn’t know
Exactly what he is doing
What exactly is he doing?
I listen clearly to his unclear words
Desperate for a clue of intention
He has to know
His rocking body too close, too close
Still he rocks
Still I remain
Silent, frozen, confused, paralyzed
Mind racing ahead
To the silences yet unsaid
I fear myself almost more than him
For if I am to remain silent
On the populated subway
How much more silent
Might I remain
Trying to navigate through the corners of my mind
I who call myself a feminist
Sit in silence
He should know
I shouldn’t have to tell him
He gets closer
He tells her like she doesn’t know
To look at the view
Of the Brooklyn Bridge
While his body
Blocks her view
Of the Brooklyn Bridge
And his words
It isn’t hard to tell
Doesn’t he know?
How much she knows?
Each rock brings him closer
The loudness in my head, spirit, body
Is only matched
By my outward silence
Until finally the subway
Says the words we didn’t
And we leave him
Two men walking past me in the metro station looked me up and down loudly declared that they would “hit that”. They were big, young men and I felt really unsafe and uncomfortable, I pretty much ran to my train.
My friend and I (15 and 14) were walking from Panera around 9am when two large men came out of a bank and said “Hello beautiful ladies.” We kept walking and again one of them said “can we party with you?” I said “no, thanks,” and we kept walking.
Finally we were almost away when he said “do you not like big dicks?” as if we would know their penis size from looking at their clothed bodies. Later, I went into CVS and my friend waited outside. The two men came by again and she ran in with two coffees and breakfast in her hands out of fear. We were both wearing athletic shorts and t shirts.
Saying “nice titties” to a girl you don’t know as you walk by her isn’t a compliment or appropriate in anyway.
It creeped me out.
I was suffering from sciatica and scheduled for spinal fusion surgery; in the meantime I was walking with a cane. A shop I loved downtown was closing and they were having going-out-of-business sale with a contest to earn points for prizes. I was on of the top contenders. One of the ways we could earn extra points was to carry a sign advertising the sale in front of the shop. So I signed up to do this, despite my pain.
Now, I am not a young girl. I was, then, in my later forties and a bit plump. It was summer, so I was wearing sandals. As I walked back and forth in front of the shop with my sign in one hand and my cane in the other, a young man of about 16 came up to me. He at first asked me if I wanted to buy a video game console. I said “No, but you can try up the street in the campus district. A lot of college students play video games” and continued my task. He walked away for a little bit and then came back and began to make remarks about my feet – how pretty they were, what kind of nail polish I was wearing, etc. I shrugged it off but he persisted. Then he began to try to touch my feet and offered to kiss them and suck on my toes. He actually bent down and tried to grab my feet, which nearly threw me off balance. I let go of the sign to catch myself and told him to leave me alone. He started to follow me, apologizing, but I went back into the shop early, willing to give up my prize to get away from him.
I told the shop owner what had happened, which naturally shocked them. They gave me my points anyway, but I went home and never returned to finish the contest. I felt violated. All he touched was my feet, but I still felt violated. Despite the heat, I wore socks and tennis shoes for a week before being willing to wear sandals in public again. I’ve been cat called and had passes made at me in my younger days, but this was the most bizarre and creepy thing that has ever happened to me. I still regret not calling to the police to at least give them a heads-up on this guy.
I was once walking down the street with my sister, and two men on a rickshaw said “Smile baby, come take a ride!” and they both started snickering.
Around 8pm last friday, I was on my way back from fabric sourcing in Manhattan with my business partner. My dad was picking me up in the car a block away from the train station. As soon as I exit the turnstile, I see this twenty-something guy in a basketball jersey leaning against the wall of a bodega that sells flowers- I knew he was gonna say something as soon as I saw him. Mind you, I was literally wearing pants, converse, and a collared shirt- business clothes, that no one would find “provocative” in the slightest, and I looked like shit since it was a long day. So as soon as I start walking past the bodega, this guy starts making all these suggestive noises and calling me “baby”.
So I flipped him off. And kept walking. Quickly. How does he respond to that?
“Suck my dick!”
“I’d rather not.”
“Suck my DICK!”
“You’re the one who catcalled me, so no. Fuck off.”
I sped up my already quick walking and didn’t turn around. Thankfully, he didn’t follow me. By the time I got to my dad’s car, I was shaking.
And the whole experience really pissed me off, because I should have the right to walk around my neighborhood without fearing for my safety. Not that I don’t need too- it’s obvious that I do need to worry- but it shouldn’t be a necessity. No one wears a bulletproof suit to avoid getting shot. Women shouldn’t feel like they have to wear a certain type of clothing to avoid harassment- but the kicker is, no matter what you wear, it’s gonna happen. And that’s just plain wrong.