This story has both the good and the bad in it. Bad news first (it is a harassment story, after all).
I was waiting for the Q train at Union Square, probably about 11:30 or so at night. I hardly ever go out socially at night without my husband. As much as I hate that that’s the only way I actually feel safe enjoying the city at night, it’s my preference. In this case, I was coming from an important function for my law journal – of course I’m not going to let the creeps deter me from my responsibilities and work/school life.
I was standing at the platform, when a man half-swaggers/half-shuffles in front of me, mumbling incoherently. I try ignoring him, but he’s clearly mumbling at me, so I ask, “What?” After more mumbling, I say – tersely, I might add, since I was on my guard about this guy from the start – “I cannot understand a word you’re saying.” He replies with a barely-comprehensible “Can I getchyo number?” I said “No.” without looking at him. He, the mumbling buffoon, immediately takes it upon himself to reply, “Whatever, you’re a fucking slut, anyways.”
Now, I was tired after a very long and active day, but it just made my blood boil so much that I turned around to him as he was shuffling away, “EXCUSE ME? You don’t even know me! I happen to be married and you CANNOT talk to me like that!” Then, losing his mumble, he shouted back. “No you’re not, you’re not married, don’t lie, you’re just a fucking whore.” I lost my head; I could barely see; I was so enraged and exhausted, that I just kept screaming at him “I’m married; leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone.” He kept at it for a while, calling me every kind of name in the book, all because I had the good sense to not give my number to some creep in the subway at midnight.
People saw. People stared. And he walked away quickly, since by now all eyes were on him, having watched him torment me. Here comes the good part.
As the trembling dissipated and the wave of fear started to dissipate and tears were welling in my eyes, the most wonderful girl, about my age, put her arm strongly around me and asked if I was okay. The Q was approaching and she asked if this was my train, since she wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to be stuck on a train for thirty minutes with this creep. Fortunately, he was long gone. We both got on and then had a great conversation about just the kind of things this blog talks about. I told her about SSH, and she told me about a great non-profit called Groove With Me that she works for, which focuses on empowering young women.
I felt a lot calmer with a kind stranger to talk to, and I also enjoyed being able to talk about these issues right after a perfect example, in front of a bunch of commuters who witnessed the whole t hing. In fact, as I left the train and was walking the short distance to my apartment, a young guy walking a few paces ahead of me turned and also politely asked if I was okay. He had seen it as well. I thanked him and said I was okay now, and just happy to be getting home. I also voiced my frustration at how awful it is to be so disrespected just for being a woman. He was understanding and wished me a good night.
When it comes down to it, the good people outnumber the bad.
– KN
Location: Union Square, Manhattan
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