I was driving with my sister on I-55 to Midway airport to pick up my grandparents. We had the windows down because it was the first beautiful day we had seen this spring in Chicago, and we were enjoying ourselves. Traffic was at a near-standstill when I heard noises coming from the white van next to us. Two men in a van were cat calling my sister and I. They were complete idiots; they whistled and kept hollering at us for well over 40 minutes in this traffic. I was concerned that traffic was moving so slow that they might try to exit their vehicle and approach.

I told my sister to ignore it and I also attempted to ignore it as best I could. I didn’t turn my head to look at them a single time, but they hollered at us for 40+ minutes.

It was demeaning, annoying, and incredibly rude. I didn’t want to roll the window up because why should I have to do such a thing on a beautiful day? Certainly not because of two jerks.

– Katrina

Location: Chicago, IL, USA (on I-55 WB before Cicero)

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A little over a month ago I was on my way to meet a friend for drinks when a man boarded the nearly empty bus that I was riding and took the seat next to me. His approach in taking that seat had been very aggressive, to the point that he almost sat on my leg. That, coupled with the fact that he smelled strongly of alcohol, immediately made me feel very uncomfortable. He turned to me and asked if spoke Spanish. Spanish is my first language and I speak it quite well; however, and very much to my disappointment because it makes me feel like I’m putting down my culture, I’ve learned to answer no when I’m asked that question by men or groups of men because it’s usually followed with unwanted comments about my breasts, butt, lips, face, or whatever body part they feel that they are complimenting. As such, I responded with a terse “no” and continued to look directly ahead of me, hoping that he’d get the hint and move to one of the many open seats on the bus. But he persisted and asked me again, adding that I looked like I would be able to speak and understand Spanish.

I didn’t respond and he unleashed a barrage of explicit descriptions of the things that he wanted to do to me. I turned to him and said, “Please move,” but he refused to move and continued his verbal abuse. I stood up and began to step over him so I could go to the front of the bus to alert the driver and he asked me, “Where do you think you’re going?” and tried to jerk me back down into the seat.

I broke his grip and was able to get away, but what happened next was truly awful. The entire incident had been witnessed by a woman who was sitting at a couple of rows behind me at the very back of the bus. As soon as I got away from the guy and began walking to the front of the bus he began loudly calling me a stuck-up bitch and a whore and the woman who’d seen it all actually chimed in and said, in Spanish, “I don’t know who she thinks she is.” On top of feeling completely violated and frightened, the fact that a woman watched it all happen without intervening was incredibly disheartening. The creep got off the bus before the driver had a chance to do anything, but I felt horrible and embarrassed by what had happened.

And then it happened again, and it was even more terrifying than the first incident. It happened this morning as I was on my way to work. Clearly, this man lives in my neighborhood, but I’d never seen him on this particular bus route before. Despite there being some open seats available that were not close to me, he took a standing spot right in front of where I was sitting and next to the rear exit door of the bus. He must’ve been a lot less drunk than his smell indicated when the first incident happened, because when he saw me he winked at me and asked me in Spanish if I remembered him. I didn’t respond and rode for what seemed like an eternity hoping that he wouldn’t say anything else to me, and it seemed like he wouldn’t until the bus was approaching his stop. He turned, looked at me and said in Spanish, “The next time I see you I’m going to put you in your place.”

I’ve spent most of the day kicking myself for not saying something or for not pulling out my phone and snapping a picture of the guy, but I was so shocked by how menacing his comment was that I was only able to react when I got to work and had to duck into the bathroom to cry. As I said before, it’s obvious that this guy lives in my neighborhood, maybe even as close as two blocks away from me. I walk a lot and take the bus a lot and I’m always vigilant of my surroundings and will go out of my way to avoid groups of men when I’m by myself. To say that this makes me never want to leave my house is an understatement. I’ve since reported the incident to the police and to the CTA, though there really is nothing they can do with just a physical description of the guy and nothing else.

I’ve been dealing with street harassment since I was 12, but none of it has been as terrifying as the two encounters I’ve had with this guy. I’m 35 years-old now, and every time I’m subjected to comments by strangers about my appearance or my body, be it from men or women, it makes me feel as scared and uncomfortable as it did when I was 12. I freeze up and want to disappear.

– NS

Location: Chicago, IL – 151 and 135 bus routes

 

As I passed two guys on the sidewalk, one started to shout, “Giddy up!” repeatedly. I found it really unpleasant, but I didn’t say anything at the time.

A little later, I was walking back that way and I asked the man whether he’d been shouting that at me. He had, but said he was “only joking”, which is a pathetic excuse, but he also said twice that he was “really sorry”. I was pleased to think he’d realized that it had been unpleasant for me—but that was just wishful thinking on my part, as he followed up the second apology almost immediately by asking, “Can I have a kiss?”

I was furious and swore at him as I walked off, but he just kept on screaming, “Can I have a kiss?” after me, over and over again. Once I was about half a block away he resorted to ear-piercing whistles instead.

Another guy, walking by me, remarked that I shouldn’t take any notice of him, that he was just a jerk. It wasn’t the ideal response, but I still appreciated the sentiment. I just wish decent men like that would publicly call out the harasser instead.

I’m 35 years old and 6’1″, and I’ve been cat called with varying frequency for 20 or so years, but these very explicit exercises of male power over me still make me feel intensely frustrated, unsettled, and belittled. I so wish there was something, anything I could do in the moment that would shift the power dynamic in these situations, so that I wasn’t left feeling so damn powerless.

– Monique

Location: 110th St. and Lexington Ave., New York, NY

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I would love to get home from work in peace. Today I walked to bus stop, and this man was standing right in the middle of the path that I usually take, ranting and raving while smoking a cigarette. I was having an out of sorts day and I didn’t want to engage him. I originally considered walking all away around and out of my way to get to the bus stop, but I shouldn’t have to inconvenience myself. So I steeled myself and walked past him while he was rambling on about junk to his friends.

The bus finally came after about 10 minutes, and as I went to board it I hear, “‘Scuse me, sweetie! Psst! You dropped something! You dropped something!” He would not stop saying “You dropped something!”, but I knew I didn’t. All my things were accounted for. The “You dropped something!” crap is the oldest harasser trick in the book. Had I really dropped something, he would’ve specified what it was. I chose to ignore him.

“You dropped something…your behind!” he said, and he and his friends started laughing. I dropped my behind?! That makes no damn sense. I knew that it was a ploy to get my attention and was glad I trusted my instincts.

I boarded the bus, but I didn’t want to leave the scene without calling him out. I opened the window, and yelled, “HEY, THE GUY WHO SAID I DROPPED SOMETHING? STOP HARASSING WOMEN!” I then snapped his photo.

He and his friends just laughed, and the guy bent over and shook his butt at me. Ew. That was something that I did not want to get a shot of.

I then took another photo, and yelled, “STOP HARASSING WOMEN! SHOW SOME RESPECT!” I closed the window, and the bus drove off.

I had a previous incident with street harassment in the same location (story here), but I’m not sure if these were the same people involved. This area tends to attract sketchy men who don’t know how to leave women alone, but their presence won’t make me change where I take the bus. They need to change their ways, not me.

The guy standing in the blue shirt is the harasser, and sad to say, one of his friends being entertained by his antics is a woman. I wonder how she’d feel if she were the recipient of unwanted attention, but of course it’s funny to her because she’s not the target of it at the moment! Sigh.

– Anonymous

Location: McPherson Square (Washington, DC)

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I have been a victim of this for a very long time. I have had to leave town only to have this issue follow me. I have had guys to yell out very explicit things to me and call me derogatory names. I’ve had them invade my personal space and make kissing noises and when I told them to go away they wouldn’t. They just would continue and the public doesn’t respond to it very well. The police also don’t take it seriously.

– Anonymous

Location: on the bus, standing at a bus stop, walking down the streets

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