Archives for August 2014

I am currently staying in Istanbul on my own before I to head out to a much sought after Theatre Research Center a bit further down the coast. I have been away from home for just over a month in America (I’m Australian).

I managed to get some sleep after a long flight and then I caught a Taxi into Taksim Square to try and buy a mobile phone, a map and to orientate myself.

So all in all feeling quite vulnerable, not speaking the language, first day, jet lag but i have travelled as a foreigner on my own before and just tried to do my best in my jet lagged-lonely-confused-frightened-excited state. Id only been out for an hour or two before I felt my eyes getting heavy and jumped in a taxi to get home. Tomorrow id figure out the public transport but id accomplished enough for today.

Right away this driver picks up I’m not Turkish because I hand him my address on a card and tries to charm me by offering in broken English to take me on a tour of the city. (Hell no he’d already quoted me double what the taxi cost to get in there. Areshole. But i was tired and just wanted to get home)

2 minutes later he rests his hand on my leg and I take it off. “Don’t do that,” I say.

Why did i jump into the front seat. I don’t normally do it only the last taxi I had gotten into didn’t have seatbelts in the back and my struggling brain thought it would save the hassle and get in the front.

Then despite my chilly reception he takes the liberty to stroke my hair away from my ear.

Again. “Don’t do that.’ If I was at home. If I spoke the language. I f I knew what part of Istanbul I was in I would have gotten out but i was frozen in fear and what was probably the beginnings of shock. Blatant breaching of personnel boundary like this often induces a ‘possum’ or ‘play dead’ effect so I try not to beat myself up too much considering what came next, I couldn’t have known.

His final disgusting move is to notice my seatbelt is loose and try and help me adjust it.

This is just two minuets of him sliding his hands over my breasts ignoring my saying ‘stop’ and forcefully pulling his hands off.

I’m home about 2 minutes later and throw some money at him to be rid of it.

Then the shock kicks in and for the next 24-48 hours I don’t want to leave my apartment. I don’t think I did. I burst into tears all of a sudden and I don’t want to wear anything remotely appropriate for the scorching hot weather here.

It was the worst introduction to a country ever. And its almost a week later and I still have guard up for any male anywhere near me me.

Luckily I had all my friends and family back home skyping with me for the immediate next 12 hours after the assault while I was working through the shock and some friends of friends here in Turkey met up with me a few days ago to help me find my feet here in the city.

They are truly champions and although I am still working through the shock, fear, anger etc of the incident I am really grateful to get to see the wonderful sides of human, men and women who rushed to my support and gave me every possible resource to recover.

– EJ Brennan

Location: Istanbul Taksim Square

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for more idea

Unfortunately, this is not the first or last time I’ll be harassed. One day my mom picked me up from school and we went to the grocery store. I was tired and opted to wait in the car, mind you I was 14 at the time. I was just sitting in the car alone and this man (around 40) was staring at me while he was walking to his car. I kept looking at him and I’m sure i had an intimidated look because he was the only other person in that parking lot and I felt a bit panicked. I kept my cool and looked away but i felt like the guy was still staring so i looked back and he smirked, blew a kiss to me and winked.

I immediately made a disgusted face and that smirk that was marked on his face, he looked like he was happy or excited to see how uncomfortable he had made me feel. I didn’t tell my mom because I was embarrassed. I went to my room and teared up a bit, even though this man didn’t physical touch me I felt so violated and vulnerable.

I have many other stories that I might go about to posting but this one by far was one that stuck with me. I still remember his face and that ungodly smirk.

Optional: Do you have any suggestions for dealing with harassers and/or ending street harassment in general?

Don’t ever let any man or harasser intimidate or scare you. Stick up for yourself and make sure you know your surroundings. Stay safe.

– Anonymous

 Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for more idea

What scares me the most, is that I’ve gotten used to street harassment for the most part. I’m 23 and it’s a daily thing. I don’t dress provocatively and I don’t walk around by myself at night but that doesn’t seem to stop me from being harassed. I want to confront my harassers but most of the time I just try to find a way to simply get out of the situation, because I’m afraid of putting myself in greater danger and I’ve just started to think of these experiences as normal.

I often have cars stop by me in my neighborhood and guys will comment on my appearance or try and pick me up as if I am a prostitute. One time, I was walking from the grocery store to the bus stop only to look behind me several blocks later and realize that a guy had been following me all the way from the grocery store to try and demand my phone number from me.

The worst experiences are always on public transportation though because that is when I feel most trapped. One day I was riding the L and an older man came on the train with me, commenting on my shoes and appearance. As soon as I stepped in the train car, I realized it was totally empty besides us and when I sat down, he sat right next to me, trapping me in my seat. He continued to talk to me and rub his leg against mine which made me feel so uncomfortable and violated. I told him I was calling my mom who was in the hospital and wanted to have a private conversation, and could he please move away. He refused to change seats at first but then he did move and got off at the first stop. I feel lucky that something worse didn’t happen. I would have been powerless. Plus, I didn’t end up even getting through to my mom because the phone signal was so bad underground on the L.

These experiences constantly affect my personal choices and freedom of movement as I try to protect myself from these kind of situations. Plus, they continue to build up an unhealthy distrust of men.

Optional: Do you have any suggestions for dealing with harassers and/or ending street harassment in general?

Overall, we need to stop blaming women for street harassment and start trying to change culture so that these experiences are not the norm for women. I could be wearing layers of clothing, walking around in broad daylight with a friend and these things still happen. Men need to gain more respect for women’s personal space and be able to listen to what women are communicating.

I think it’s also important for women to start speaking out against this behavior so that we don’t let it just become a normal part of our lives. Let’s not act as if men own us or our lives revolve around men. Instead of refusing to give someone my phone number because “I have a boyfriend,” let me just not give him my phone number because I don’t want to and he doesn’t have any claim to it!

– Anonymous

Location: Chicago, IL

 Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for more idea