Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

“Suddenly he had my foot in his hand and was squeezing it in different places”

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My partner and I were on vacation in New Orleans the week after Christmas. Having left snowstorms behind us at home, we were enjoying the sunshine and wearing jeans and t-shirts.

One morning, we were sitting waiting for the street car at the stop by the French Market when a man approached me and very cordially asked me, “What type of shoes are those?”

He was about middle aged, looked clean enough, and seemed friendly. I was wearing plain black leather loafers, but the brand name escaped me. I guess I assumed he was looking for something similar for his wife or daughter. I smiled, slipped off my shoe and read him the brand. He asked if the leather was soft. Alarm bells should’ve gone off when he knelt at my side and took the shoe from my hand, but he just seemed so genuine. He noted the padded insert and asked if I had high arches.

Suddenly he had my foot in his hand and was squeezing it in different places. I was starting to get nervous, but he was calmly going on about being a reflexologist and I was caught between stunned silence and naive belief. It wasn’t until he painfully pressed down on a bone in my foot I’ve broken twice in the past that I was jolted back to my senses. With his hands still on my foot, he started asking my girlfriend about her feet. I pulled my foot away, still smiling and trying to be polite.

Then, without either of us even saying anything to him to end the encounter, he was just gone. I suppose he’s done this enough times to know when the game is over, because he completely disappeared the instant before either of us became confrontational.

In retrospect, I’m upset with myself for doing nothing. I’ve told cat-callers to fuck off more times than I can count, called supervisors of men who’ve harassed me while they were on the job, and I read blogs like this one regularly. I KNOW better. I stick up for myself and others when I see or experience street harassment. But here was a man TOUCHING me and trying to touch my girlfriend, and I smiled and nodded while it went on for several minutes. The whole experience left me feeling disgusting and was really triggering for me as a sexual assault survivor.

– mbc

Location: New Orleans, LA, near the French Market

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“There is no where to go to escape it”

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I’ve been harassed nearly everywhere I’ve gone, and no matter how I was dressed. I’ve had my boobs grabbed, my ass grabbed, my crotch grabbed, and some of the most filthy and disgusting things I never wanted to hear whispered into my ears. And it doesn’t just happen in the streets. Concerts, bars (even while I was clearly talking to a boyfriend), groceries stores, malls, in the workplace, there is no where to go to escape it. No one has ever done anything to stop it. When I ignore it or give the harasser an annoyed look, they start calling me an ungrateful bitch, or a whore. When others see me being harassed, they never do anything to stop it, as if it’s only worth the trouble if things turn to violence.

It started when I was thirteen, and I enjoyed the attention of whistles and honks from the car. It didn’t take long for me to get sick of hearing it, and for more serious trespasses to start. I was never even a sexy dresser. Jeans, t-shirt, no makeup. That didn’t effect things, either. I often wore old, dirty sweatpants and a torn up flannel shirt to a job I had loading trailers in college. For some reason, that just made them like me more, especially at gas stations. For years, I quit going to bars and concerts because I was so sick of dealing with the crowd. As I’ve gotten older, I don’t get it quite so much. Oddly, the business suit seems to work better as a deterrent than the sweat pants ever did.

All that time, I just figured it was something I had to live with and work around. This website and it’s message are great, and I hope it will help change the way we deal with this issue.

– KW

Location: Everywhere

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Harassed, groped, and affronted in front of her own apartment door

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I don’t feel safe at home anymore.

It was Monday, Dec. 20, when this happened. I had just gotten home from a night out with my friends and I walked up to my apartment. I was digging my keys out of my purse when I noticed a couple of guys walking up the stairs. I thought nothing of it as my neighbors are quiet and keep to themselves.

One of the guys started talking to me and I hadn’t gotten my key into the door, and I realized that at this point I was trapped between my living space and two guys I didn’t know. He was asking me if he could come ‘hang out’ and I said no. He touched me and tried to kiss me and at one point ran his hand over my crotch. He then grabbed my keys and opened my door. I went inside, shoved him and shoved my door closed.

I was in shock and I felt stupid that I didn’t call the police. I was too freaked out, and I was just glad that I got into my apartment by myself.

It’s been a few days and I still don’t think there’s enough water to wash all this disgusting off of me.

– DL

Location: Katy, TX (Houston Suburb)

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“Merry Christmas, baby! Happy holidays!”

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Not again!

The same man, who has harassed me on a few occasions (http://streetharassment.wordpress.com/2010/07/29/long-hair-lewdness-short-hair-rudeness/, http://streetharassment.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/guess-who/) and who implied I was “ugly” because I had very short hair was back out on the street again! But get this—he SMILES at me and says, “Merry Christmas, baby! Happy holidays!”

No, I don’t like being called “baby,” but I was shocked at his 180 regarding me. Then I realized that my hair has grown out significantly, making me more “feminine-looking” again and thereby in his warped mind “attractive” now. This mentality has me shaking my head.

I was not in the mood for conflict this morning so I said absolutely nothing and kept walking.

– Tired of Being Harassed

Location: M Street & Wisconsin Avenue, Washington, DC

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“I just can’t…can’t leave this spot without a smile”

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I was sitting at the bus stop in front of the San Francisco Main Branch Library with my boyfriend. Another gentleman was sitting, reading, next to me. We had just missed the bus so we had about ten minutes to wait.

A short, (possibly) homeless man with devil horns tattooed on his forehead slowly wandered in front of the bus stop, laughing to himself. He wandered over, standing too close to my boyfriend, still laughing and laughing. He gestures to my boyfriend and calls him “Prince Charming,” and says some other things I couldn’t understand. He was kind of wandering in and out of laughing to himself and annoying my boyfriend, until he started talking to me. First, “Happy holidays, merry Christmas, God bless ya,” which I responded to with, “You too.”

Then he stopped wandering around, stopped far too close to where I was sitting, pointed to me and told my boyfriend, “You know…I can’t leave this spot…can’t leave this spot without a pretty smile from her.”

I rolled my eyes and my boyfriend told him to leave. “I just can’t…can’t leave this spot without a smile,” he says to me.

I told him, “No. You don’t get to demand things from me on the street just because you feel like it.”

He protests and I tell him that he doesn’t get to demand things from women just because he’s drunk and feels like it. He starts to protest loudly and at this point the man next to me and another man nearby were staring at the offender. The offender noticed them staring and started to walk away when I used the phrase “public sexual harassment” and by that time everyone was staring at him.

He must have felt intimidated because he made a punching gesture at me as he left.

– Jen M.

Location: San Francisco, City Hall

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