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USA: Reframing the Street Harassment Conversation with Men

June 19, 2014 By Correspondent

Kirstin Kelly, Monterey, California, USA, SSH Blog Correspondent

We cannot stop street harassment from happening unless we understand why people do it in the first place.  To this end, I interviewed three mechanics at various stages in life, two of whom my boyfriend has witnessed engaging in street harassment.  All three men were more than happy to talk about what I referred to as catcalling (I didn’t want to shut them down by labeling it harassment), but none of them admitted doing it recently.  The two my boyfriend had seen admitted to catcalling women when they were younger.

All three men said they thought catcalling was stupid, and none of them were really sure why it happened in the first place.  However, they did point out that there were at least two good reasons for it to keep happening: sometimes it is an effective way to pick up women and it makes for a good joke between friends.  These two incentives tell us a lot about what we need to do to stop street harassment.

When I asked what they thought we should do to stop street harassment, the men I spoke to said that it was nature, that it’s impossible to prevent that behavior.  I disagree.  Across all theories of normative psychology, people are only motivated to engage in a given behavior if they believe their behavior will have a favorable impact on the ultimate outcome.  In this case, the men either believe they have a chance of successfully getting their target to come home with them or at least getting a good laugh from their friends.  This is important because for several of these men, fear of rejection means that street harassment is somewhat safe because it can be played off as a joke should the target not respond favorably.  None of the men I interviewed seemed to consider how their behavior made their targets feel unless they got a favorable response.

This is critical- framing street harassment as derogatory, scary, and socially unacceptable is probably the strongest way to change the pervasiveness of the behavior because it would make the perpetrators think about their behavior in a way that may not have before.  For victims, it feels like a loss of power, and perhaps that’s why some perpetrators engage in some types of street harassment, but for those that have never thought about that impact of their actions, reframing the conversation may have a significant impact on how willing people are to accept the behavior.  The bottom line is that it needs to stop being acceptable fodder for jokes.

The men I talked to also suggested that street harassment is something men grow out of when they get into more serious and committed relationships.  There might be something to that, but all three men are in committed relationships, and while they no longer admit to engaging in catcalling, they have been witnessed doing it in the past few months.  Their refusal to admit to catcalling women since entering committed relationships is telling.  It’s demonstrative of a feeling that street harassment is not acceptable behavior, and that to me suggests social change is possible because the type of change we need is already taking root.

Kirstin is a Master’s Student in Nonproliferation and Terrorism Studies at the Monterey Institute of International Studies and a news editor at the Women’s International Perspective (The WIP). You can follower her on Twitter at @KirstinKelley1, where she regularly posts about human rights issues around the world.

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Filed Under: Advice, correspondents, street harassment

“Shouting things at me which I can’t even understand”

June 18, 2014 By Contributor

When going down the street or working outside, cars full of men/teenage boys drive by, honking, shouting things at me which I can’t even understand, shouting at me to give them my telephone number, etc.

– Anonymous

Location: Germany

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My Name is Not “Sweetie”!

June 18, 2014 By Contributor

This is what happens street harassment becomes racism and victim shaming in one…

I was street harassed today in Portland, Oregon. I was just minding my own business just waiting for the bus at College Square in Gresham. The bus was a few blocks away and I hear, “Hey sweetie! Hey sweetie! Hey sweetie!” after a few moments, I turned around and told the African-American male in the red car who was cat calling me that my name was not “sweetie”.

Instead of stopping after I told him to just leave me alone, he decided to call me a fat white trash whore because I refused to talk to him. He started pulling his ID out and kept kept calling me a white trash whore and bragged about working at OHSU. He proceeded to call me ignorant, uneducated, as I kept telling him to stop bothering me and that he was wrong in calling me ‘sweetie’. I was not his wife or his girlfriend and he had no right, to calling me a term of endearment that ONLY my husband should be allowed to call me.

He became abusive all because I refused to acknowledge his presence and called him out. He kept saying “My president is black! My president is black you racist white trash whore! You should be sucking my dick!”

Where does he get off saying that? He doesn’t know me and my husband is Latino. Maybe he thought I was a racist all because all I wanted to do was to get from point A to point B and I just wanted to be left alone.

The bus arrived a few moments later, and he pulled out of the parking lot flipping me off, I told the driver the situation and cops were called especially when I told them it looked he was going to pull a weapon out on me when he pulled out his OHSU ID. An older woman on the bus started complaining about being held up and started victim blaming me, and asking why I was not smart enough to go into a store. I’ve done that before and had the harasser follow me. The bus was the safest option for me, but yet I kept being insulted by this ignorant older woman all because I made her late.

The older woman called me a ‘stupid white bitch’ until the police officer arrived. One thing I learned today, even if the guy was white and still did the same thing, it still would not have been okay. If I were an African-American woman and the same exact thing still happened, and I still stood up for myself, I would still be called racial slurs. Why? Because no matter what color my skin is, it would still not be okay to call me “sweetie” when you are not my husband. And this type of behavior from ANY man, no matter what his race, or background is NOT okay!

– DW

Location: Portland, Oregon

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Filed Under: Stories, street harassment

USA: “I got a glimpse into the future. And it is beautiful.”

June 18, 2014 By Correspondent

Jessie Koerner, Denver, Colorado, USA, SSH Blog Correspondent

16th Street, Denver | Via http://commons.wikimedia.org

Sunglasses? Check.

Shoulders back, head up? Check.

Bitchface on? Check.

Now I am ready to walk down the 16th Street Mall to go get my morning coffee, or lunch, or head home. This street is where tourists, businesspersons, locals on day trips, and all of Denver’s odd characters come together (ok, odd for us… nothing for me will ever beat the parrot chillin’ on a guy’s shoulder on the DC Metro). Lately, I’ve been feeling like we shouldn’t advertise 16th Street as somewhere tourists should go in our little city. Not least among the issues is the prevalence of – shocker! – degrading and insulting comments made to women on the street. None of them are new, none of them are clever, and none of them are appreciated.

However, this week has been fundamentally different. I have no idea if the men of Denver got the message finally, or if there was a secret Cotillion club I wasn’t invited to that everyone else attended.  This week, I’ve gotten multiple ‘good mornings,’ three with ma’ams attached, which to me is just awesome given that my spirit animal is Effie Trinket. Then there was that one incredibly enthusiastic, “Hello! How are you today?” that made me so cheerful the rest of my Thursday. Among the interactions, there was none of the usual “smile for me, baby” or “mmmm work that skirt, girl.” NONE. For one whole, entire week I got a glimpse into the future. And it is beautiful.

This is why we speak out. This is why we applaud those brave souls who stand up and address their harassers (sometimes to hilarious results). I am not optimistic for the continued respite on my daily walks down Denver’s busiest pedestrian thoroughfare. I will still be printing out my copies of Cards Against Harassment, and arming myself with sunglasses and my formidable bitchface that just dares anyone to speak to me. I mean, come on though, I’m a chatty person, and it kills me that I have to indicate that I am not friendly in order to walk down the street in peace.

Street harassment is one of the most unfortunate equalizers of humanity.Sixteenth Street is one of those places where it’s obvious that misogyny and street harassment permeate all classes and races. I have been harassed by the homeless dude on the corner, the slickly dressed young professional, and the teenager that should have been in school.  I have seen women who are skinny, old, dread-locked, supermodel gorgeous, and homely all harassed on the street. Most shoot a glare to the harasser, or hasten their step, embodying the intimidation and fear instilled in us by the thought of confronting the man, or men, making the comments. I love the social experiments that turn the tables on men – women creepin’ on them for once. The one element that can’t be replicated though is the fear.

My father and I recently got into a heated discussion about #yesallwomen and street harassment. After all of our talks on human trafficking and prostitution, my attempt to shock him into agreement from his ‘devil’s advocate’ position may have failed. It also may have come from the fact that he walks down the same street every day that I do, and inevitably has heard the comments made to the women around him. We are at the point that me reiterating the disgusting things said to me don’t even shock my father. We can either make the choice right now as a society that we will not allow half our population to be insulted, objectified, and intimidated out in public, or that we will expect half our population to just shut up and deal with it – like, as my dear dad compared it to, it was going on vacation in Florida, where you know it’s going to rain every day at 3 pm, and complaining about it.

His point? What are we going to do about it?

My plan is to hand out those Cards to my harassers, start a Hollaback! activism chapter here in Denver, write for Stop Street Harassment about what’s happening in Colorado, and incessantly talk with others about why this is a real, legitimate problem, and that it does NOT have to be like this.

That’s what the past week has proven to me, anyway.

What are you going to do?

 Jessie is a longtime human rights activist with a feminist focus. She founded the Amnesty International chapter in college, is an active participant in JustWorld International, and manages the social media accounts for the Global Women’s Network and winnovating.com, where she also blogs.  Find her on Twitter and Instagram, @pearlsandspurs.

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Filed Under: correspondents, Stories, street harassment

“I made a beeline for the door and booked it home”

June 17, 2014 By Contributor

I was 16, maybe 17 tops, an American exchange student in Thailand. I was walking home from a friend’s house, about 7:30 or 8 p.m. The street was lit only by the lights pouring out from some bars and restaurants along the side, deserted except for one man following behind me.

He was a little too close for comfort, so I took some random corners to try to get him to stop, but he continued following me. In a pool of light up ahead, I stopped and pretended to be searching for something in my purse, allowing him to pass me and get plenty far up ahead before I started walking again. Just seconds later, HE DID THE SAME THING until I was forced to pass him. He started walking again when I was just a meter or two ahead of him.

As I got onto a slightly bigger road but just as deserted road, the beacon of a brightly lit 7-11 glowed a hundred meters ahead of me. It was in the opposite direction of home, but it was lit and guaranteed that there were people. I took the opportunity and went in, thinking I would call my host family or a friend to come pick me up if I still didn’t feel safe.

He entered the store right behind me, and I kept my eye on him from where I was pretending to look for a snack. He also pretended to be browsing, just an aisle or two away from me. I was closer to the door.

When he turned his head down to look at something, I made a beeline for the door and booked it home, not stopping running until I was at my front door, out of breath and fumbling for the keyhole.

It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened to me, and it certainly wasn’t the last.

– Anonymous

Location: Nakhon Ratchasima, Thailand

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Filed Under: Stories, street harassment

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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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