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The stories below are recent encounters with street harassment from around the world. Click the “I’ve Got Your Back” button under each one to anonymously show your support.
Je rentrais chez moi le soir avec une copine, et deux hommes nous ont abordées. Ma copine et moi, on ne lui a pas répondu quand il nous a demandé, dans un premier temps, si on pourrait “faire connaissance” et après si on “voulait baiser”. Moi et ma copine a continué notre chemin sans répondre, alors il a crié qu’on était des grosses putes en nous suivant quelques mètres. Puis lui et son copain ont quitté la place.
I went home at night with a girlfriend and two men approached us. My girlfriend and I, we did not answer him when he asked us, at first, if we could “get to know them” and then if we “wanted to fuck.” My girlfriend and I went on our way without answering, then he shouted that we were big whores and they followed us a few meters. Then he and his friend left.
Published on April 26, 2015 at 10:39 amno comments
Walking down 14th with two of my friends, a man walked toward me in that way they do, where you know they’re about to say something disgusting. He didn’t say anything, though. He just passed by me extremely close, then turned and started following us. He threw out some “baby… baby”s and we ignored him. His comments became more disgusting, “I love your pussy. It’s my favorite.” He kept following. He followed us to our front steps (by the time we realized he was still following, we were already on our deserted street), though we told him to stop. We told him no several times. My friend got out her phone to call the cops and the guy finally left. My friend spoke to the 911 operator for a few minutes. We’re still seething, and worried about him knowing where we live.
Published on April 25, 2015 at 1:51 amno comments
Printemps dernier. Je monte dans le bus bondé. Il pile, une main touche furtivement ma jupe au niveau de mon pubis. Je remarque que c’est celle d’un homme et place mon sac devant ma jupe, de sorte qu’il ne puisse pas réitérer -à cet instant je lui laisse encore le bénéfice du doute puisque je me dis c’est peut etre la secousse du bus qui l’a poussé contre moi. Sa main cherche mon entrejambe. Je le repousse, essaie de me dégager. Les larmes montent mais je reste muette. Il change de place.
Last spring. I get into the crowded bus. It stops suddenly, a hand touching my skirt at the level of my pubes. I notice that it is of a man and put my bag in front of my skirt, so it can not happen again -to this moment I let him have the benefit of the doubt because I think maybe the shaking bus drove him against me. His hand looking for my crotch. I push him, trying to free myself. Tears come but I remain silent. He changes position.
Published on April 23, 2015 at 10:26 amno comments
A series of ongoing incidents has left me feeling isolated and hesitant to socialise. I am often followed home by a person in a car who will use very degrading language (shouted out of the car window,or a series of hoots to alert my attention) it seems that they want me to know that they are following me as they are in cars and i am on foot (there is often more than one person or different cars),it is difficult to identify then. On a regular basis the car will hoot outside in a neighbouring street always within an hour of me getting home.
the same group have also been spreading rumours within my social circle referring to me with discriminatory references to people who are then discouraged from communicating or socialising with me to the degree that my entire social circle have become misinformed about me (with gossip and lies). For some time now i have been living an isolated existence which consists of receiving verbal abuse and being told i am unworthy of being helped . They often use ethnic and sexual references and paint a picture of ‘dirty’,’slut’ and many other references to make it unappealing to reach out. As i cant identify these people they just continue to getting kicks out of making my life like a prison.
Published on April 22, 2015 at 8:44 amno comments
After attending a house concert for a collective in my city aimed at improving representation of women and non-binary people in the local music scene, I was unlocking my bike from the tree it was chained to. Two men in a sedan drove by and yelled “Bend over, baby!” at me. I was shocked at their rudeness and cowardice and especially discouraged after being in such a positive environment. Oh, the irony.
Published on April 21, 2015 at 8:40 pmno comments