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You think studying in the middle of a common study area wouldn’t turn guys on.
I had my face buried in a book, studying for my finals in two weeks. (I had read your website some weeks before, so I was ready!) He walked in front of me and when he was just out of range, I heard, “Girl, you gorgeous.” I was sure it was for me because there was no one behind me, or on either side. I was so surprised and indignant at his remark I blurted out “Excuse me?!”. Then I realised I had just started something I might not be able to finish. He turned around and I got a good look at his face. He was 25-30 years old, 5’6″? We exchanged in somewhat-friendly conversation, and I told him that he didn’t know me and shouldn’t call me gorgeous. No heated argument, but what surprised me was that I was studying… With 5-10 people in the same room! Why was it his business to tell me I was good-looking? Or to interrupt my studying?
What was the thing that made him pick on me? Was it my shirt? my hair? my face? Not cool creeper!! I don’t think he’ll pull another stunt like this after our conversation.
It was a chilly St Louis Sunday evening in March and I had just finished up a meeting with some local LGBT activists at my favorite cafe, Coffee Cartel. One of the people I had met with offered me a lift home, but I said I was ok walking since my apartment was just a couple blocks away.
As I was crossing Lindell, a car full of high-school-age boys pulled up to the intersection and I heard them yell “Hey, whore! How much?” Since I’m unfortunately used to being holla’d at, I flipped them the bird and kept walking, but they just shouted “Yeah, whore! Stick that finger up my butt!”
I was too shocked to look back at them, so I never got their license plate number, but next time something like that happens, I’ll be sure to report them.
I was nine or ten. It was summer and a friend who lived behind my house had called to invite me to go to the pool with her family. I changed into my bathing suit (a one piece), put a towel and a few things in a backpack, and set off for their house. In order to get their I had to run down one hill, across a creek and some bike trails, and up another. There was a group of men on a bridge, luckily I didn’t have to go on it, but they saw me. They began yelling things like “Come on over here girl” among others. I ran to my friends house. I’d never run up that hill so hard. My friend’s mom (who saw it and made sure I was safe) reminded me that I needed to be careful, that because I looked older people didn’t realize how young I was. She called my mom that night and told her. When my asked me about it I cried half in anger, half in shame. I told my mom I wanted two really big dogs that would go with me everywhere, one on either side, so no one would ever mess with me again. I didn’t know I could HOLLABACK.
I was about 11 years old and I was walking with my mother to a store called Prarie Market in Rapid City SD to get some groceries. It was a winter, so we were bulked up in puffy winter jackets. We lived about 4 blocks away, and this was a typical thing to do. Anyway, about a block from the store a speeding truck with about 4-5 men started screaming obscenities at us. They were initially screaming “faggots” but once they got closer, and realized we were women, they began screaming “maggots” and other worse words. We ignored them and fortunately it lasted about 20 seconds at best. It happened so quickly and out of nowhere; we were too shocked to say anything.
Although on other occasions, while using a phone near to this same store I had rocks thrown at me by a group of drunken men. Again, walking home from school past this same area some men shouted racist insults at me.
Yeah, it’s a small town, but haven’t they got something better to do than frighten women and children?
I live in one of Dallas few truly walkable neighborhoods, which I love. Near my house is a pizza parlor, Zini’s Pizza, where the delivery guys hang out in the side alley between drop-offs. I walked by midday to head over to the convenience store, and the guys (two of them) whistled at me, thrust their pelvises in my direction, and made sexually suggestive remarks. I complained to management on their Facebook page wall (after all, if my body is up for public discussion, surely I’m within my rights to post on their wall rather than telephone a manager) and they deleted it almost immediately. So I reposted it. I intend to keep doing so until I get a response.
It was a mix of verbal and stalking it seemed, though it was not a prolonged stalking… just a creeper van with two creeper creeps inside parked nearbye saying stuff like “hey honey, come closer- want to have a good time?”, sounding like the usual potential rapists many of us have encountered in our walks to work, drives home, and even from acquaintances.
I was dumbfounded at first. It brought up memories of being approached at ages as young as twelve (at least when i had begun being aware of what this sort of attention was), and made me feel ill, sick and just downright disturbed- but then it clicked, I was angry, and almost amazed at how blatantly rude this was and that no one, not any women, girl, boy, or man deserves this form of disrespect.
I stopped and waited for a second to confirm that they were really addressing me (dangerous I know, but I just needed to know) and as soon as it was certain that I was the only person near bye, in creepy talking range, I said clearly, without yelling or shaking (i was surprised that it was possible), as if just stating an indisputable fact, “You are disgusting” made eye contact and everything- even laughed and smiled at them in a you are incredibly pathetic sort of way.
They didn’t say anything back. Maybe they’re not used to someone they are sexually harassing sticking up for their own right to walk without feeling like they may be killed or raped.
I quickly ducked back into a store I was in before to make sure it wouldn’t escalate to violence since people being that creepy cannot be trusted. I waited a bit and they were gone. On the drive home I kept kicking myself saying I should have said “you sound like a rapist” and “does your mom know you are a creep to women?” but really, all I really wanted to do was kick them.
And you know what if it hadn’t been directed at me, I would have said that they are creeps too. This should never go unresponded to. It doesn’t matter who it is directed at.
These comments are unwarranted and verbally abusive. I just wish they weren’t so *&$#in’ normal and seen as the *&^%in’ status quo. If we are vigilant in our abilities to speak up for ourselves and for others then maybe, just maybe, we can make some real social progress. I only hope it can be achieved sooner rather than later (though it should have never been an issue to begin with).
I mean we are taught to be respectful to human beings right? (at least I was) Are women not people to some men?
I was taking the train from my hometown to Sydney (a 2 hr ride), having a nice chat with a friend and enjoying having my feet up in the quite empty carriage. At the first stop after I boarded, a man came down into my carriage and stood in front of me, gesturing wordlessly that he wanted me to move my feet so he could flip the seat over, sit in front of me and put his feet up instead (in New South Wales we have seats on trains that flip so you can change the direction you’re facing or create a four-seater.)
I hesitated, not wanting to move my feet just for the benefit of his but yielded I guess more out of habit of giving in to men than anything else. As I did, I said “oh, so you want me to move my feet so you can put yours up?” and as he sat down he said to me “that’s how it goes.” I was infuriated and responded at a normal volume “f–king male privilege.”
This must really have pushed his buttons because he then rose out of his seat, turned around to face me with his hands on the back of the seat in front, leaned right in over me in a truly threatening stance and was about to express his misogynist mind but never had the chance. As soon as he towered over me I put my head back, made myself tall in my seat and at the top of my voice but controlled and firmly and with pointed finger I said “HOW DARE YOU STAND OVER ME LIKE THAT! SIT DOWN! DON’T YOU THREATEN ME! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT…” I continued until he shrunk away and sat down.
It was a victory for me and I’m thrilled that I instinctively got my hackles up and stood my ground with emotional control. I was very shaken and quite upset that no one else in the carriage wanted to assist me but ultimately the threat was gone. He remained in that seat for the duration of the trip and when it came time to alight in Sydney I was ready with a piercing stare but he avoided my gaze completely. I had properly shamed him out.
I was visiting my home town in Denver, CO. and my girlfriends decided to take me out to dinner and drinks afterward. While we were at a local bar, some random guy slaps my butt twice. I turned around the first couple of times to a few guys saying, “It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me, it was him!” So I said sternly, “Look, whoever it is, quit it.” I turned around just in time to see where the third slap was coming from. Once I caught the guy red handed, I slapped him hard across his silly face and asked how he now felt to be touched inappropriately. He just looked away; not even one sorry breathed from his mouth. His friend apologized for his bad behavior but drinking isn’t an excuse for disrespecting others. I’m sure he felt dumb, girls and guys were snickering at him. I probably wouldn’t have slapped him if I was alone with him but there was a crowd and I felt like it was a safe place to do so.
I have many, many stories on shouting and verbal harassment – but the one I will share is the only physical one.
Walking on my own to meet some friends at the theatre, I passed a man on my way down the road into town. I saw him look at me – never mind. then I quickly became aware that he had turned around behind me and was following. I knew something was coming and clutched my umbrella tight in one hand and bag in the other, thinking he might try to snatch it. But no! Instead I felt him touch my behind and comment ‘nice bum yeah’. Like lightning I whipped around and hit my umbrella at him, shouting “WHAT THE F*** DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”. It worked – he ran away – but hey, it still ruined my night.
Unfortunately, harassment is frequent in the area, which is a known vice district with prostitutes walking the streets. I have had cars pull up and ask me if I’m ‘looking for business’ (not seeming to care that I’m wearing a coat, hat mittens, jeans and carrying a huge bag), which is always a bit scary.
It’s a rare day that a man on Adeline doesn’t express sexual interest in me when I walk to and from work. Listening to my iPod and wearing sunglasses doesn’t dissuade them, either. Today I passed a group of about five men and every single one of them felt the need to shout something to me as I passed. It kept going until finally I stopped and turned around to face them.
Usually I’ll drop some foul language that my mother would hate and nearly start a fight. But today I think my guard was down because I am getting over a cold and simply exhausted, plus I was just overwhelmed by the tidal wave of sexually aggressive macho attitude. Instead of cussing, I said, “stop commenting on my appearance, it’s really rude.” It actually made them speechless.
I really hate that in my own neighborhood, I can’t see a man on the street without thinking to myself, “oh great, what’s he going to say?”