Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

Archives for October 2010

Goodbye, miniskirt?

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In a push to “restore urban decorum and facilitate better civil co-existence,” Luigi Bobbio, the mayor of the Italian seaside town Castellammare di Stabia, wants to ban “anti-social behavior.” Okay, so probably sexual harassment, racial harassment, bullying, and so forth, right?

No.

The mayor claims he wants to target people who are “rowdy, unruly or simply badly behaved,” and to him, this entails people who are sunbathing, playing football in public places, engaging in “blasphemy,” and…. wearing miniskirts and low cut jeans.

What?

There’s a lot one could say about this, but I’m going to focus on what is street harassment-related.

First, I want to say that I’m pretty tired of people (including other women) blaming women’s clothes for causing the harassment and violence men perpetrated against them. I heard that a lot in the past two weeks when I was traveling through California, Alaska, and Iowa, talking about street harassment. (“…Well, the way girls dress these days…”) This is flawed logic because women experience harassment and assault no matter what they wear (men have harassed me the most and the most explicitly when I’m wearing bagging running clothes, sweaty and red faced) and the idea that some clothes are provocative and others are not are cultural constructs that vary by culture! The problem is not women or their clothes.

I am certain that banning types of clothing alone will not cut down on “unruly” behavior. Most women in Yemen and Egypt, most of whom are veiled and otherwise modestly dressed, experience harassment in public spaces. That makes it crystal clear the problem isn’t women’s clothes but societies which encourage and allow men to harass women without consequence. Until that changes in Italy, they can ban miniskirts all they want and the harassment will continue.

The people who harass the sunbathers or women wearing miniskirts and low cut jeans are the ones whose behavior needs to change. Perhaps the mayor and the town should spend their time launching awareness campaigns about treating people with respect, no matter what they are wearing, and making sure that is taught in schools.

I’m glad that the NYC Council is holding a hearing on Thursday to discuss street harassment and what we can do about it in a logical, thoughtful way, instead of trying to ban certain clothes. Or segregate women from men like some countries have resorted to doing on public transportation because the harassment is so bad there. If you’re in the NYC area, come out at 1 p.m. on Thursday to share your street harassment experiences and ideas for making the city safer for women and girls!

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“I am so sick of entitled assholes thinking they can speak to me any way they want”

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Trigger Warning

This isn’t a street harassment story, but rather a story of harassment in a bar. Still, I think it is relevant to the message of this blog, so I’m writing it.

The other night, I was out for drinks with a girlfriend. We were in a nice little jazz bar having a glass of wine. We were talking, laughing and enjoying ourselves when a man approached and started some fun, flirtatious banter with us. He invited us to sit with him and his friend, and we agreed.

My friend started talking to his friend, and they seemed to hit it off. I struck up a conversation with the guy, Shawn. He seemed nice for about five minutes, although he was a little more touchy than I was comfortable with.

He asked me how old I thought he was.

“30.” I replied. He looked surprised. “35?” I asked.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said.

“Well,” I said, smiling. “I suppose I’m not a nice girl.”

“Watch it,” he said. “I could choke you without even trying.”

I was shocked. My history involves an abusive relationship in which choking was a regular part of our fights. In that relationship, I feared for my life. I still feel grateful for having survived. I felt myself shake with rage and sadness, feeling violated at being threatened and at the same time angry that this jerk could remind me of my painful past when I was out with a friend trying to socialize, relax and enjoy myself like a normal person.

I got up and walked away from the table, stopping briefly to tell my friend that I didn’t want to sit with him anymore. She moved over and let me sit next to her.

Shawn leaned over and asked my friend, as if I wasn’t there, why on earth I would be offended by his ‘joke.’ I told him off, saying that it is in no way funny to threaten someone. My friend backed me up, giving him a lecture on how to have respect for women. I told him, firmly, that I am a person and deserve to be treated like a person, with respect and dignity.

He got up and proceeded to lean in and maul me with his face and hands. My fighting instincts kicked in and I stood up, pushing him away. “Get the fuck away from me!” I screamed. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“What the fuck,” he slurred. “I was trying to apologize.”

“Oh, that’s how you apologize? By invading someone’s space? That’s acceptable behavior to you?” I was shouting at this point, and I really didn’t care.

“She never says fuck,” my friend said. “See? You obviously don’t have a clue.”

“Well, whatever, it was a joke,” he said, coming in again to touch me.

This time, I pushed him against the bar. I’m tougher than I look, you see.

“Keep your fucking hands off of me!” I screamed. He shook his head and went back to his table. My friend and I found another table where we finished our wine and paid our tab.

I was furious for the rest of the evening. I am so sick of misogyny. I am so sick of entitled assholes thinking they can speak to me any way they want and that I should endure their threats and the humiliation of being manhandled for their entertainment. Is it too much to expect common courtesy in bars and pubs?

– Margaret

Location: Vancouver, BC

Share your street harassment story today and help raise awareness about the problem. Include your location and it will be added to the Street Harassment Map.

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“We were fearless, loud and determined”

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I put the little black dress to an unscientific test the other weekend. The verdict: It really does appeal to everyone, for better, or in this case, for worse.

First, there was the guy next to me at self-checkout at CVS, who couldn’t resist telling me how beautiful I was. Isn’t the whole point of self-checkout that I don’t have to talk to anyone? Then there was the guy on the bus. I felt his eyes on me the entire 20-minute ride, so it must have really been a relief for him to get his feelings for me off his chest as he got off the bus. Gross.

Then there was the wrong turn I made, while trying to meet my friends at a Columbia Heights restaurant. It’s like they lined that street with men who were just waiting for prey. A couple of calls about “Mama,” and my little black dress and I reversed directions. I was carrying my heels in my purse, a decision I made to save my feet, but later became helpful in allowing me to move quickly.

Dinner with my friends was without incident. The little black dress and I were safe in the restaurant, as far as I could tell. But then the dress and I took to the streets, accompanied by four other girls in little black dresses and one man. We think: strength in numbers. Street harassers think: a whole group of easy targets, conveniently together for our harassing pleasure!

We walked from Lamont and Mount Pleasant to roughly 16th and Harvard — maybe a 10-minute walk — and spent more time deflecting harassment than enjoying each others’ company. And deflect, we did. I wouldn’t say our responses were particularly poetic, and certainly not profound, but hey: It didn’t take much to top our harassers.

A close friend once taught me the high-pitched EWWWWWWWW. I found that to be extremely effective. The men looked startled when faced with such a rejection. One of my other friends basically told them where to stick it, and we also cut them off with hand gestures and shouts even before they started hollering. We were fearless, loud and determined. It was awesome.

Long-term effects of our fighting back seem limited as far as changing these men’s behavior. Although the surprise on their faces was encouraging, I’m sure they’re out there now, harassing someone else, and that someone may not have the benefit of being surrounded by strong women who will help her fight back.

But fighting back did something for me and my friends. It reminded us of what we can accomplish together and why we’ll keep on fighting. And why no street harassers will make me hang up my little black dress. Instead, I want it to serve as a warning sign to men: Don’t MESS with me.

– Elizabeth Owens

Location: Washington, D.C.

Share your street harassment story today and help raise awareness about the problem. Include your location and it will be added to the Street Harassment Map.

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Weekly Round Up: October 24, 2010

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Story Submissions Recap:

I accept street harassment submissions from anywhere in the world. Share your story!

In the News, On the Blogs:

Announcements:

London anti-street harassment meeting

Upcoming Events:

10 Tweets from the Week:

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Scary, drunk harassers at 4 a.m.

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I had been out with my friends at the club night at our students’ union and I was walking home alone at about 4 in the morning. Normally I get the bus but they had stopped running at 3am. I got all the way to my road, close enough to see my house, and a group of drunk guys asked me directions to somewhere.

I told them that I didn’t know, as I’d just moved to the area, and kept walking. Just as I got to the door of my house they all started shouting ‘Come back here, sexy, fuck me, why are you running off so quick…’ and other offensive things. By this point I was on my doorstep, terrified that I wasn’t going to be able to get into my house safely. Nothing more happened, but it so easily could have. It still scares me.

– KM

Location: Headingley, Leeds, UK

Share your street harassment story today and help raise awareness about the problem. Include your location and it will be added to the Street Harassment Map.

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