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“I can’t run away from what he did”

June 30, 2014 By Contributor

My friend and I were on a train at about 2 p.m. last week. There were two people across from us and a man behind them. As my friend was talking, I glanced away and saw that the man was looking at me–he looked right into my eyes–while vigorously masturbating.

My heart started pounding and I told my friend not to look but something terrible was happening on the train. She asked me if we should try to get away from where we were, but there was no way to get away except to walk past the man. As the train started slowing down at the next stop, we decided to move toward the other end of the car where there were more people. I couldn’t think of anything but getting as far away from this person as possible.

When I got up I wasn’t thinking, and my phone and sunglasses, which had been on my lap, fell on the floor right in front of the man. I scrambled to pick them up as the train came to a stop and the man picked up my sunglasses and tried to hand them to me. I was so disgusted that I backed away and couldn’t look at him and my friend took the glasses, still not aware of what the man had done. He got off at that stop.

My friend was really sensitive about the whole thing and I was glad to be with her. She didn’t brush it off or pretend nothing happened, but neither of us knew what to do. The first and only other person I’ve told responded by laughing and saying “people are animals.” (When he realized that the experience upset me, he was kinder, but I haven’t wanted to talk about it since then.)

What upsets me most is that the image of this man’s penis and his horrible stare keeps coming into my mind at random times. I can’t escape that thought now–I can’t run away from what he did. And each time I’ve waited for a train or bus, I’ve worried that I would get on and find this man standing there, staring at me, smiling, his hand moving back and forth behind his briefcase.

– KS

Location: Brown Line train, Chicago, IL

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“I can’t describe the terror”

June 29, 2014 By Contributor

I visited NYC for the first time a few days ago. I’m a 17 yr old from Pittsburgh, PA, and I had never really experienced street harassment. Rarely, someone will honk at you, a rouge boy will yell but Pittsburghers don’t really talk on the street, it’s frowned upon, yelling gets you glares.

NYC was…. appalling. Guys will yell nasty things, a homeless man got close enough to me to whisper “youre pretty as fuck” and then I quickly walked away before he could continue. Older men came up to me telling me I was beautiful, and would not go away when I clearly said fuck off. I was standing with my mother in Times Square, and a man got in kissing distance said, “Hey pretty lady lemme talk”

I said fuck off, my mother said fuck off, and he told me that if I just get in his car, give him my number, I could be a model. Oddly enough it was the stares that were the worst. Men of all ages would just stare keep making eye contact, doing all sorts of shit with their eyes.

The most terrifying instance was the subway at night. No, it wasnt the boy who leered at me and whispered nasty things, it was the old white man, old enough to be my grandpa.

I was standing on the R train with my mother and he started staring at me then moving closer. My gut told me I needed to move, now. I moved away and he followed and began whistling this weird little tune and got louder and followed me. He walked past, up and down me, nodding and laughing and whistling. I wish I had the words to describe the vibe. This guy was rapist serial killer crazy, the kind of eyes you have nightmares, gave me the kind of gut feeling that something will go wrong. Terribly wrong. He kept getting closer, leering whistling and laughing. Finally his N train came. He saw I wasn’t getting on, got off whistled one last time and laughed. He walked away towards me, but by the grace of god, got on another train. I can’t describe the terror. I wish I had a video of this man. I honestly thought that was it.

– LP

Location: NYC

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“He chose to spend half an hour of his morning silently following me”

June 29, 2014 By Contributor

I was walking to university in the morning and stopped to cross a road. I always walk with my ipod in to help pass the time, but when I cross a road I take my headphones out to hear the cars. I looked both ways and accidentally made eye contact with a man next to me. He took this as an invitation to start talking to me. He was far older than me, and whilst it may seem quick to make such a judgement, he just seemed ‘creepy’. He told me his name and asked mine, he told me I was very pretty, and tried to ask more about my life, what I study, etc. I smiled at the compliment and gave 1 word answers to his questions (without revealing too much personal information about myself), but I was clearly showing that I did not want to talk to him and wanted to get on with my walk by myself. The traffic lights then finally changed to red, making the cars stop, and allowing us to cross the road. I said goodbye to this stranger, he said bye and said it was nice talking to me. I thought this was the end and hurriedly continued my walk with my headphones back in, not thinking any more of it.

However, half an hour later when I was walking up my steps into my university building, someone called for me to ‘slow down’. I turned around and to my horror, this stranger from the road crossing was right behind me! He thrust a small piece of paper into my hand, told me to call him, and then left. The paper contained his email address and phone number.

He had followed me for half an hour and I’d had no idea. He must have been stealthy, always keeping the right distance behind me, whilst not losing me.

I was scared. He now knew exactly where I studied, he knew where to find me if he wanted to again. If he’d followed me then without me noticing, how many other times could I have been followed without knowing?

I was also annoyed, angry. What made him think he had the right to intrude into my life? Because I was polite and smiled at him rather than telling him to fuck off? Do we really need to be that rude to every stranger we pass in the street just to prove that we do not in fact want to talk/date/fuck them?

I know in this story I do not mention the man doing anything that seems aggressive or violent. But I am a young vulnerable girl, he was at least twice my age and a lot bigger than me, and he chose to spend half an hour of his morning silently following me.

– Anonymous

Location: London, UK

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Australia: “I expect to be able to drive my car without being stalked”

June 28, 2014 By Contributor

Corina Thorose, Melbourne, Australia, SSH Blog Correspondent

I drive a zippy little red Echo. It’s fairly girly, especially with the bumper stickers I have plastered all over the rear window, so most guys know it’s a woman’s car. I’m used to the odd look. We’re all guilty of checking out the person next to us. We might even try to pull up next to them at a red light for a second look if we like what we see.

Nothing about this said second look.

He stopped several cars ahead of me at the lights, and swivelled his entire head to look back me. At first I assumed he was just really indiscreet. Then as he moved off at the green very slowly so as to keep level with me, I assumed it was road rage, and that I had cut him off somewhere. But he wasn’t angry with me – he made his intentions very clear as followed me for a further 10 kilometres.

For the next 10k, I struggled to stay focused on the road as he harassed me. If he was behind me, he ran red lights to keep up with me. If he was in front, he braked so that I would be level with him. He drove with is head turned sideways, barely glancing at the road in front of him, staring at me with sex in his eyes and a lecherous grin on his face. I pulled back, allowing several cars to get between us, but he got even more reckless, diving into gaps of traffic to be next to me, looking me over with unrestrained lust.

I did something I haven’t done since I had gotten in trouble as a child. I rang my parents. Fortunately within ten minutes of their house, I told them I was being followed and to please meet me outside their house. I didn’t call the police, I didn’t drive to the nearest police station. I didn’t take down the creep’s details and make a report. None of these things occurred to me in my panic. All I wanted to do was put distance between us.

Eventually, I lost him. He didn’t hurt me in any way. There was no immediate danger and I was no worse off.

Except I was. I was pissed off. I was furious. How dare this man terrorise me on the street? In broad daylight, in the safety of my car, minding my own business, he terrified me. He reduced me to a child, ringing my parents for help instead of conducting myself as I normally do, with the grace and dignity of a thirty year old woman. My hands were shaking as I changed gears and I lost my logical thought process. I didn’t even take the rational course of action – what I always claimed I would do in that sort of situation – drive to the nearest police station and let them handle it. When you’re confronted with a threatening situation, something weird happens to your brain. It’s like tunnel vision – all I could think was stay on the road, keep moving, don’t look at him. He had complete power over me.

So, what’s the lesson here?

I know for next time (God forbid) to pick up my phone and dial 000. That’s what the police are there for. But if I’m honest with myself, I was scared that they would tell me to ignore it. That there was no real threat and he would go away if I paid him no attention. Because that’s how I’ve always handled street harassment. Don’t give them a reaction, just keep walking, don’t let the see you’re upset.

Fuck it.

I am upset.

When I told my friends what had happened to me, some of them did the unthinkable. They asked me what I was wearing. Like I’d been driving around in nipple tassels with a sign saying “Give It To Me” on the boot of my car. They told me not to take it personally, some guys are just losers, this guy obviously hasn’t gotten laid in ten years, and I’ve got big boobs – what did I expect?

I’ll tell you what I expect. I expect to be able to drive my car without being stalked. I expect to be treated according to my status as a living, breathing human being, and not according to my bust size. I expect that if I don’t shoot you a cheeky smile, you assume I’m not interested and LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. You don’t gawk, you don’t gape, you don’t slobber, you don’t yell, you don’t pantomime a blow job, and you don’t follow me to the point that I am scared for my life.

My name is Corina, and I’m joining you from Melbourne, Australia for the next few months. I want you to know that I am committed to making the world a safer place. Because it’s not unreasonable to expect to live in a harassment free world. It is not unreasonable to expect a man to control himself. It is not unreasonable to teach our sons they have no right to catcall or objectify or mistreat women in anyway. It is not unreasonable to expect to be treated with respect.

Street harassment is not the norm – it is a crime.

Corina is a journalist who is currently in a Masters’ program in Professional Writing. Follow her work on social media: @BrandosBride, www.facebook.com/theirownbells, instagram.com/theirownbells

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Filed Under: correspondents, Stories, street harassment

Women of the Bronx: Speak on Street Harassment

June 27, 2014 By HKearl

“Adam Levine-Peres asked women of the Bronx how they felt growing up in this borough, if they felt respected and safe….Check out what these Bronx ladies had to say.”

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SSH will not publish any comment that is offensive or hateful and does not add to a thoughtful discussion of street harassment. Racism, homophobia, transphobia, disabalism, classism, and sexism will not be tolerated. Disclaimer: SSH may use any stories submitted to the blog in future scholarly publications on street harassment.
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