Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

“I heard like a squirt squirt and felt something wet on my leg and again on my skirt”

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I was coming up the stairs in Columbus Circle when I felt something wet hit my skirt. Then I heard like a squirt squirt and felt something wet on my leg and again on my skirt. When I got to the top of the stairs I felt my but and smelled my hand and instantly I was disgusted. It was semen. I turned and looked and there was a lot of on my skirt and my leg. When I looked around I saw 4 men but there was no way of telling who did it.

Has anyone ever heard of this?

Who wold do that. I was so pissed I went home and changed and am still creeped out.

– Michele

Location: Columbus Circle, NYC

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“It makes me feel better to know I stood up for myself”

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I live in a ‘not so great’ neighbourhood in Queensland, Australia… or at least it has the reputation of being so. I’m originally from the UK and hadn’t been living here long, so I brushed those sentiments off as being stigma. Sadly, I was wrong. Every time I walk to the train station to catch my train to work, I am harassed. It varies in severity, but it’s always uncomfortable and always upsetting. Virtually to the point where I take every opportunity to avoid that walk.

On most occasions I have the typical ‘cat calling’, with men regularly slowing their cars to shout at me or whistle or beep their horn. I’ve had one guy follow me from the local supermarket (after seeing me in the cashier line ahead of him); it was around 8 p.m. at night and fairly dark, he pulled over on the road to approach me and ask me to get in his car so he could take me home, when I said no, he continued to follow, until I began running.

On a worse occasion, this time in the middle of the day, I was walking along the street near the busiest road and a man walked past and lifted up my skirt to expose my underwear. He ran before I could catch a look at his face, but I screamed out at him to make sure attention was drawn to him. From that incident, I’ve taken to avoiding skirts when possible… even though that sometimes means walking in the summer heat feeling uncomfortable, or having to get changed at work.

I once had a young boy aged around 15 follow me home, almost to my front door, and expose himself to me. I screamed out that he was sick and that he needed to get away from me before I called the police. He ran off. That night I couldn’t sleep because I was scared he’d come back, because he knew where I live.

The harassment upsets me and makes me feel uncomfortable in places I’m entitled to be; the shops, the streets, the trains.

I now feel empowered by my experiences and the stories I read here, and I try to retaliate to those who attempt to harass me. I’ll tell them how disgusting they are, or how pathetic they are.

Most of these people aren’t used to hearing a woman stand up to them, so when I do this they are usually speechless. I’ll tell them that they can’t make me feel uncomfortable and that I have a right to be here too…. they’re usually dumbfounded by it, and it makes me feel better to know I stood up for myself and made them feel uncomfortable, maybe they now know how it feels to be abused in public? And when other people have witnessed me defending myself, they’ve actually congratulated me, or laughed at the men who’ve tried to abuse me (and usually other women at the same time). It feels good trying to take back the streets, to feel comfortable in places I’m entitled to. I still get harassed, but I’m much braver since visiting this site.

– Claire

Location: EVERYWHERE! Eagleby, Queensland, Australia

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No such thing as “child sex workers”

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This is not about Street Harassment, per se, but since your site mentions the ill-effects of word labels like “Eve-teasing” and “catcalls” I thought you might be open to hearing this.

I’m a guy who follows stories regarding Human Trafficking and I am in favor of any news outlet that helps to make people aware of HT and the other issues that come with it (Gender-based violence, for instance). If you wonder why a guy would be interested in a topic that so often is about victimizing women, google Sara Kruzan, and see it her story doesn’t wound your heart as it does mine, and I bet you will understand.

But I recently saw a link that made me want to shout! It was an interview regarding opposition to a bill that would have decriminalized prostitution of minors. It is still a crime and always should be a crime to force minors into prostituting themselves. But it should NEVER be a crime for the child who was forced into it. But that is a SIDE issue. What really got me mad was the headline. It read: “How the Law Should Treat Child Sex Workers: A Conversation with Ray Newman of the Georgia Baptist Convention”.

Do you see it? The 6th, 7th, and 8th words lumped together. “CHILD SEX WORKERS” Did anyone ask these “Workers” if they had a choice in the matter? Those three words do NOT belong together. The link is included if anyone wants to listen to it. bit.ly/dY4O6M

– Ed Drain

Location: Atlanta, GA

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“What I do with my facial expression is my business. Worry about your own facial expression.”

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This is why I prefer the window seat. (I do mention race here because I feel it’s important.)

The ride on the 38B (no. 2717) towards Ballston this evening (after 6) was the worst experience of my life. The window seats ran out so I grabbed a seat in the back aisle. I was tired, nodding in and out of sleep while the bus slowly lurched across the Key Bridge. I wasn’t feeling well and just wanted to get to the store, buy what I needed and go home.

At Rosslyn, this black guy boards the bus and he’s all, “How’s everyone doin‘ this evening?” but of course with me, he says, “Smile! Things aren’t that bad. Things will be brighter if you smile.” Whatever somnolent state I was in disappeared when I heard those words. I was pissed beyond hell.

“Don’t tell me to smile,” I said. “What I do with my facial expression is my business. Worry about your own facial expression.” The white guy and girl sitting across from me look at me and smile nervously.

At the same stop, another black guy who’s heavyset and a white woman board. They seem to know the smile guy.

“I’m happy with my facial expression,” the guy says. “Good for you!” I snap back sarcastically.

This guy then calls me names and directs his attention to the white guy and girl sitting across from me.

“How are you doing this evening?” he asks the girl. The girl, in the most smug, sanctimonious way looks at me, bats her eyes, then responds to the guy, “Why, I’m doing fine, thank you!” I’ve never felt so patronized in my life.

“See, that’s the answer I wanted,” the guy said. “You’ve got wingnuts like her [he points at me] acting all crazy.”

Great, I felt as if they were painting me as the crazy, argumentative black chick, justifying this guy’s warped views on black women, while this girl on the bus fits the stereotype of the polite beyond words white girl who’s docile and wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m not like those uncouth black women, her demeanor read to me. This whole exchange sickened me. And after reading Sister Toldja’s blog today about black men acting like black women are obligated to walk around and smile for them (http://thebeautifulstruggler.com/2011/01/too-hot-to-handle-too-cold-to-smile.html), having this mess happen to me today added to my frustration.

Tired of being insulted by this weirdo, I got up and moved to a seat near a middle-aged black woman. She was very kind towards me and unlike the girl and the guy near my former seat, didn’t belittle my experience.

“Times like this you’ve gotta put on your iPod and ignore these bums!” she said.

“I hear that,” I said. Meanwhile, this buffoon wasn’t letting up.

“She moving because she’s scared of black people,” he said. Of course, the white guy and girl who I was sitting across from before I moved smile at this assumption. I’m afraid of black people?! So am I afraid of my own reflection? Damn.

It wasn’t over. Crazy smile guy goes on and on about how he’s minding his own business, and how I ruined his day.

“You were minding your own business?!” I replied. “I WAS MINDING MY BUSINESS! You didn’t have to say shit to me! I’m sick of sorry-ass negroes sitting at the back of the bus bothering people like me! I did not ask for you to say shit to me!” It got quiet for a moment there.

Then from the heavyset black guy who boarded comes out a “N***a, shut the fuck up!” He was talking to the crazy smile guy. “You always do this…gonna get us kicked off the bus. Shut da fuck up!”

Now one would think these clowns arguing with each other would make me happy, but it didn’t. It was embarrassing. I wanted to crawl somewhere and hide. I wanted an escape from the noise and chaos. “Oh, god,” I said, putting my head in my hands and moaning.

“They’ll be off soon…real soon,” the woman next to me said. I thank her for trying to calm me down.

The smug girl got off a few stops after the incident started, but the condescension of her behavior still lingers. I can’t get over that.

The crazy guy and his friends seemed to divert their attention off me and to each other about other things, but all they did was argue and curse at each other the whole time.

“Gettin‘ on my nerves,” the woman next to me said. “They need to stop.” It was so bad that people at the front of the bus were turning around to see what was happening. I wonder why the driver didn’t tell them to knock it off or get off the bus.

The heavy guy and his lady friend got off at Courthouse, but not without one last “Shut the fuck up!” from him and some comment about “I ain’t riding the bus all the way to Ballston for some Harris Titter [sic]…n***a please.”

I got off at the stop near Whole Foods a few stops down, thanking the woman I sat next to and wishing her a good night. I thank her for not putting me in the “crazy” box because some demented nut thought it was my obligation to smile for him.

The incident worked my nerves. I get to Whole Foods and had forgotten why I was there because I was so frustrated and tired (physically, mentally). And when I remembered, I was just so out of it and felt like I was in everyone’s way. I kept my head down. I wanted to do what I needed to do and get out.

While at the checkout line, I saw a stand of different pocket Buddhas at the counter. I’m not Buddhist, but I do like carrying lucky charms. I saw a Buddha for protection, and added that to my purchases. I know I’ll need it for protection from being harassed, and protection from losing my sanity from being constantly harassed.

I wish I’d gotten that window seat. I could’ve looked out the window, got lost in space, and potentially not have gotten harassed by this cretin. I just want to be left alone.

– Tired of Being Harassed

Location: 38B Bus on the way to Ballston, Virginia

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