Shyeta Williams, California, USA, SSH Blog Correspondent
Despite the raising awareness of street harassment, it is so unbelievably prominent in this urban jungle I call home. One contributing factor could be the striation of wealth, with many homeless and impoverished people being on the street at all times of the day. This is also an area with plenty of options for public transport, so many of us are walking at some point en route to our destinations. Between BART, Ac Transit, MUNI, Lyft, Uber, Leap, there is no shortage of opportunities for a catcaller to come into contact with anyone who dare cross them on the street. This is not to say that the area is any more prone than any other, but to illustrate the ways in which we are vulnerable to street harassment.
I’ve had this conversation many times with many friends and colleagues. Recently, a friend of mine, whom I’ll call Rona, decided for one week she would pull out her phone and take a photo of every man who catcalled her. She was interested to find out how men would react to her taking photos of them as they were harassing her. I had read about women doing this, to varied responses. Rona employed this technique for one week and was shocked at how quickly men attempted to remove themselves from the situation. She described men peeling out in their cars, and hiding behind friends. Essentially after having the gall to harass her in public places, men were quick to retreat at the threat of being photographed.
Rona expressed that this caused a palpable shift in dynamics. It made her feel powerful. Her description was vivid and revealing. “Well it’s a pretty conscious effort, keeping your phone in hand to ward off creeps, so I don’t do it all the time, [but] it’s so noticeable how different you feel. When I’m doing it I walk taller. When I don’t I’m so scared of men walking past me. It’s only words but it’s so violating.”
Despite how powerful she felt, Rona was aware that this reaction was problematic. These men weren’t leaving her alone out of some sudden respect or realization of her personhood. They were doing it out of what she described as, “fear of repercussion, or fear of humiliation.” These men were looking to cover their own asses, removing themselves as a precaution not out of a sense of humanity. In fact it had very little to do with Rona as a person. They are much more concerned with their image being soiled, no matter how justly, than how they are treating another human.
After Rona told me the story, I called her a superhero. Holding a man accountable for street harassment can be a dangerous game. I’ve experienced and heard many stories about what can happen if dare to confront a man who is harassing you or someone in your vicinity. It is downright dangerous thing to do. It often shifts the focus to you, your vulnerability, and personally I’ve been completely verbally berated for it, only to have no one stand up for me for fear of the same. It’s saddening but this is part of why Rona had to try this tactic to begin with.
Women are being forced to come up with imaginative ways to combat their own harassment, and really just having to hope for the best in terms of outcomes. As often as we are on the sidewalk, our safety may be encroached upon, otherwise easy targets at their discretion.
Shyeta discovered her voice loud and clear amid the redwoods and fog at UC Santa Cruz, where she earned her BA in Politics. She’s currently enjoying the sound her pen makes against the wind chill in Oakland, CA.
