Archives for July 2012

I was leaving work, and there was a Street Sense newspaper seller standing at McPherson Square Station. As I pass, I hear him say, “Hey, Boo-Boo, how are you?” I turn around, and he’s looking at me.

“My name is not Boo-Boo,” I said. “If you want to address me, it’s Miss or Ma’am. Show me some respect.”

“Man, I wasn’t talking to you!” he said. Sure he wasn’t.

“I don’t care,” I said. “You need to show respect to women.”

“I ain’t say nothing to you!” he said. “Get on, I ain’t say nothing to you!”

“But when you disrespect women around me, it becomes my problem,” I said. “Show some respect.”

He kept denying saying anything to me and kept telling me to go away, and that he didn’t need to do “shit.”

“If you want to sell those damn papers, you need to respect me and other women,” I said. I was a broken record. Respect me and other women.

He kept talking junk, and when seconds before the light changed I pulled out my cell phone (I had my camera on me which would’ve gotten a better shot, but he would’ve known what was coming if I pulled that out) and took his photo. He acted like he wanted to cover his face with a paper, but my cell phone got the shot when he was pointing at me, seconds before he attempted to hide his face.

There are good people who sell Street Sense papers who are professional and respectful and I support them and buy their papers, but I’ve encountered too many guys like this who are unprofessional, rude, and very sexist when it comes towards their interactions with women. I will be contacting Street Sense first thing tomorrow morning. They really need to train their salespeople better because this is beyond ridiculous.

– Anonymous

Location: McPherson Square Metro Station (14th Street N.W. & I Street N.W.), Washington, DC

Date & Time: 7/19/12, 5:05 PM

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I was boarding the train with my bike, and I accidentally turned to the car in the very back. When I entered, I felt weird, and I couldn’t pinpoint why; suddenly, I saw a man get up, stand in the aisle, stare me right in the eye and start rubbing his crotch. I like to think of myself as someone who doesn’t get scared easily, but the way he looked at me made me feel like he was legitimately about to attack me, even though there were people in the cart nearby. I felt like prey.

I clumsily stumbled away from him and into the next car. I saw him sit down close to the window, so I went off to the other side of the train. I’m relieved that nothing happened, and there’s a part of me that feels like I’m overreacting, but rape is one of my biggest fears, and today, I think I met a potential rapist. I don’t know how to report the incident, so I’m posting it here.

– Anonymous

Location: Caltrain, California, USA

Today, I was walking on the sidewalk when a man on the opposite sidewalk started yelling at me in a nasty tone of voice. I ignored him and continued walking. However, he became more aggressive saying stuff like, “Yo girl! Over here!!” His violent tone scared me to death. And for once, I did not feel safe around my neighborhood.

-Anonomous
Location: Sunnyvale, CA

A number of years ago, a man harassed me at my home. I don’t know how long he was watching me before he made contact, but he eventually got to the point where he would stand on the street and masturbate at me while I was sitting inside my apartment, or on my balcony. It was as if he just materialized out of nowhere; one minute I would be alone reading on the balcony, and the next minute he would be standing there with his pants around his ankles.

This happened every few months…for two years. Repeated calls to 911 made no difference, the man would simply vanish as quickly as he had appeared. I became very paranoid. Every man on the street would seem to have his face. I stopped using my balcony altogether, and started keeping the curtains closed at all times. I tried to avoid walking in my own neighborhood alone or after dark. Even these many years later, and living in a new city, I can’t bring myself to go out on the balcony for extended periods of time, and the curtains in my living room are never opened.

– Anonymous

Location: Burnaby, BC, Canada

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