Archives for March 2012

Today, I was tanking up at a nondescript gas station for the long trek home. I felt that something was wrong shortly after I started pumping gas. I’d developed a sixth sense of sorts over the years, and so I could feel that someone was staring at me. I ignored them, and my silence was interpreted as an invitation. Moments later, the greasiest man you could imagine was standing right next to me, close enough that I got an overpowering whiff of cigarettes. His pick-up line was as crude as it was predictable. I told him that he was being disrespectful, and I demanded that he leave me alone. Between that and the rather furious dog in my backseat, he got the hint and left. When I pulled out of the gas station, I had a pick-up truck nearly on top of my bumper. Mr. Greasy-Pants was behind the wheel.

I wish I could say this was my first experience with street harassment, but it’s not. Just yesterday, a younger man was staring at me so intently that it made my mother uncomfortable. This past month, I was getting gas at a local grocery store when a bunch of college boys yelled at me across the parking lot. Before that, I received similar cat-calls of “Hey, girl!” while I was getting the mail in my own apartment complex. I was followed to my car at the a Gamestop midnight release. I count myself lucky if two weeks pass without a cat-call or a disrespectful come-on.

I also wish that the statistic about how 1 in 4 girls experience street harassment by age 12 didn’t apply to me. I was nine when a man tried to break into my bathroom stall at a public restaurant. I was lucky that an adult woman came in and caught him, and she waited with me in the bathroom while we sent another woman to collect my parents. The restaurant refused to call the police because the man was a “regular,” and he denied my accusations, spitting crude words at both my parents and me. By the time I was 12, I saw his face again. This time, he was on the news and under arrest for raping a girl at a local high school. I could only see myself in the smiling portrait of the victim.

By the time that I was in high school, I was wearing t-shirts and the baggiest clothes possible in hopes of hiding myself. My efforts failed spectacularly, and it wasn’t until my sophomore year of college that I realized that none of this is my fault.

I wish that my experiences are as bad as they get. They’re not. In truth, I have it easy. Society has forced me to keep my tongue sharp and my skin thick. I am constantly reminding imbeciles that my body is not for their consumption. I have to frequently teach grown men that butt grabbing and lecherous language is disrespectful. Yes, I have it easy. That is why this movement is important to me: I’ve witnessed, firsthand, the consequences of inaction. I know that having it “easy” is still humiliating, terrifying, and degrading. Above all else, I know that unchecked street harassment can grow too easily into worse criminal acts.

– Not Your Sweet Cheeks

Location: Atlanta, Georgia

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It’s happened to me more than once in my life. The first time, I was on the CTA on a train headed to school, and a guy was staring at me and touching himself, but I couldn’t see him doing that because he was behind a seat, so it was just his eyes that were freaking me out initially. I finally realized what he was doing and got off that car and went onto another. I was really upset. I was about 13.

Then, in between the other CTA incidents, which are all similar and involve men in states of arousal sitting there waiting to be discovered, I’ve ridden my bike and had catcalls happen (this is on the streets of Chicago), walked down the street minding my own business, all on the North Side to Downtown Chicago. It happened once in a pizza place and it was relentless, to the point where I started crying, but I did stand up for myself. They insisted it was a compliment and I told them it was absolutely not appropriate and that I was sick of hearing it.

– DS

Location: Chicago, IL

Share your street harassment story today and help raise awareness about the problem.
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My friend and I were laughing and having a good time in Times Square while waiting for some friends to go to dinner. We were sitting on those little red chairs they have right on 42nd and Broadway. When we rose up to leave, this strange man blocked our path and regurgitated a familiar phrase we always heard, “Hello ladies, would you like to see a comedy show?” He was standing too close for comfort, practically breathing in our faces. We stood there silently for a few minutes before my friend responded politely but firmly, “No, we were just leaving.”

Instead of allowing us to leave, he blocked our path. I had never seen one of these comedy show promoters “track down” people who were getting up to leave. Usually they stood on the sidewalks, calling out to whoever passed by. Instead, this hideously arrogant creeper (I call him hideous because that’s what he was – an awful person), decided to approach us and violate our personal space. He said flirtatiously, while still blocking our path, “Where are you going?” My friend politely answered, “To eat,” but his lack of boundaries made me distinctly uncomfortable. I answered just as firmly, “You don’t need to know that” in an attempt to get rid of him.

“I AM NOT GOING TO FOLLOW YOU!” he called obnoxiously after me as we finally managed to walk past him. “JEEZ, WHAT LIT THE FUSE ON YOUR TAMPON?!”

Yes, because if I dare to speak out, I must be PMSing, right? Listen, hideous creeper: you are a nobody who thinks they can silence women and who thinks that his needs and wants are more important than my needs and wants. Let me tell you something: they’re not. I have a right to feel safe, I have a right to not have my path blocked, and I have every right not to see a comedy show and get rude comments from an ignorant misogynistic fool such as yourself. You won’t silence me. You won’t force me to be polite if YOU’RE not showing me the same respect. No wonder you feel the need to harass complete strangers – no self-respecting woman would probably approach you of their own volition, am I right? Uneducated, ignorant, misogynistic – you are the holy trio of what is wrong with the world. You are the type of ugly that lights the fuse on my “tampon,” as you say. The type of ugly that doesn’t seem to go away.

PMS – Pushy Men on the Street, BACK OFF.

– PushyMenonStreet(PMS indeed)

Location: Times Square, NYC

Share your street harassment story today and help raise awareness about the problem.
Find suggestions for what YOU can do about this human rights issue.