I go from being virtually harassment-free for months to getting harassed twice today during my lunch break.

I wanted to grab a doughnut and coffee from 7-11 to add to my lunch. I had forgotten my cell phone at work and in retrospect regret it. 14th Street seemed to be the hangout for sketchy men today! It was dull outside due to the rain so I didn’t wear my shades, leaving me without a way to prevent eye contact with these men, and I wasn’t in the mood to wear my MP3 player. All this made me vulnerable.

I didn’t want to walk back down 14th passing the men hanging out on the street, so when I left 7-11 I opted to take Rhode Island Avenue to get to another street back to work. Right outside the 7-11, a man who I’d passed by said, “Ooh, sugar pie, honey bunch!” to my butt. (Who does this fool think he is, one of The Four Tops?)

With my cell phone accidentally left at work I had no way to take this creep’s photo, nor did I have any way of calling the police if things got out of hand, so for my safety I didn’t respond. I felt vulnerable without my phone! This guy kept making comments like, “Yeah, walk, girl!” and mess like that. I can’t believe this fool thought that mess works! It obviously doesn’t because I wanted to get as far away from him as possible, not closer!

Minutes later, I pass through McPherson Square, where Occupy DC is, and I pass by this man who looks like a sketchy Santa Claus. He says, “This is a no-frown zone!” at me. What, am I supposed to smile on command for these men?! Hell no! Once again, I chose not to engage him.

When I finally got closer to my office building, I saw a man on a bike and I just got a bad feeling that he’d say something to me too, so I ended up cutting through my building’s alley/parking lot to avoid the possibility of being harassed a third time.

I haven’t been harassed like that in ages, so for it to happen like that threw me off guard. While I am cordial with my co-workers I’m not buddy-buddy with them, so I didn’t have anyone to share my experience with when I got back to the office. However, I am grateful that I do have friends and family that I can talk to about this, and who would listen.

What shocked me was how calm I was about it when I returned to work. Sure, I was upset, but I wasn’t fighting mad and enraged about it like harassers usually make me feel. I also surprised myself by how I didn’t engage the men and call them out like I usually do. At the time, my objective was to return to work safely and without drama, and I achieved that objective.

If there’s a next time (and there probably will be, since harassers don’t stop harassing), I will make sure to have my phone on me. I refuse to be caught off guard again.

– Anonymous

Location:
1st: Outside the 7-11 on 14th Street NW and Rhode Island Avenue
2nd: McPherson Square (15th Street NW & K Street), Washington, DC

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I went to Las Vegas with my boyfriend, mom, and a former friend of mine the week after my 21st birthday. (We’re from Portland, OR.)

The four of us were walking along the strip one day, just doing some sight-seeing. Mom and I had been bickering on and off that day, and while we were talking a group of guys walked by. One of them whistled at me and I turned around and flipped them off. Mom chastised me for it. I told her that I hate being whistled at because, while she may think it’s a compliment, I find it insulting, weird, and disrespectful.

Right after I was whistled at my boyfriend had put his arm around me. My former friend later told me that he had given the guys a dirty look for whistling at me, which made me feel a lot better about it.

– EM

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada

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I was waiting for the bus to go somewhere–can’t remember where–and a couple guys were stopped at the light by the bus stop. One leaned out the window and shouted at me, “How much?”

From time to time, while I’m out doing my own thing, I’ll have people whistling at me or cat-calling. It gets really irritating. The most “innocent” of it, for lack of a better term, is when people shout, “Hey beautiful” or something like that. I don’t appreciate it, but it’s not as creepy as other stuff that happens.

Once I was at a light rail stop waiting for someone since we were going to hang out at the mall. I identify with the Goth subculture, and some days my style of dress is more flamboyant than others; this was one of those days. A few guys saw me and started catcalling at me. I can’t remember what they were saying but it sounded like they’d assumed I was easy, and they even made it clear that they were trying to taunt me on purpose, which I didn’t appreciate. I told them to stop and when they didn’t, I went inside the mall.

I was on the light rail once coming back from hanging out with a friend of mine. A guy on the train was sitting across from me and was staring at me. I noticed him and was creeped out so I put my bag on the seat next to me. He kept trying to get my attention but I ignored him. He turned to this couple sitting in the seats behind him and asked them if they knew me and the girl said they didn’t. He came and sat in the row in front of me and tried talking to me. I thought my headphones would make it clear enough that I had no intention of talking to him, especially when I continued to ignore him. When he wouldn’t leave me alone I removed my headphones and talked to him, but I gave him short, one or two-word answers. He made a comment about how I was judging his appearance and about how just because he wasn’t the best looking didn’t mean he was a bad date, or whatever. I texted a former friend about how this guy kept hitting on me and wouldn’t leave me alone, doing so in a way so he could see what I was typing and leave me alone. I can’t remember what he did next but I stood up and moved to the front of the car.

Once I was waiting for the bus and–at the same stop as the first story–and a guy was trying to pick up on me. Now, I am in my early twenties but I look like a teenager. (A coworker’s mother thought I was sixteen when she first saw me. That’s five years younger than I actually am at the time of writing this.) I think this has a little to do with why this experience turned out the way it did.

The experience started out with the guy just staring at me. It weirded me out but I thought nothing of it. He then sat down next to me and I think he talked to the couple a bit. Then he started hitting on me and I just tried to ignore him. He talked to the couple again before talking to me again. When he started to get really weird, the couple stepped in and told him to leave me alone. By this time he’d stood up, and the woman’s boyfriend sat down next to me. I think the guy either wandered off or caught one of the buses that came, and the couple were on the same bus as me. I appreciated their stepping in, since not many people do so.

– EM

Location: Portland, Oregon

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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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