Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

#StandWithMonica and #FreeEisha

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Via ACLU

Transgender women of color face some of the highest rates of street harassment and violence of any demographic. Here are two of these women who need our help:

Via ACLU:

“When Monica Jones left her house on the evening of May 17, 2013, she expected to hang out at a local bar and restaurant and meet up with some friends. But for transgender women of color, just walking down the street can be a criminal act.

Especially in Phoenix, Arizona, where literally “any bodily gesture” can be sufficient evidence that you are intending to engage in prostitution.

When an undercover officer saw Monica Jones, a black transgender woman, walking down the street just a few blocks from her house, in an area that the officer described as being “known for prostitution,” that was enough to convince him that she intended to engage in prostitution. It was on that basis that he approached and stopped her.

In April of this year, Monica was convicted of violating this overbroad and vague law. Today she appeals that conviction, and the ACLU, along with other advocacy and civil rights organizations, filed a brief in support of her appeal.

We #StandWithMonica because transgender women of color should be able to walk down the street in their neighborhoods without being arrested, or worse, for simply being themselves.”

Via GLAAD:

“A trans woman of color, Eisha Love, is currently facing attempted murder charges after she was attacked by two men outside a gas station on Chicago’s West Side. According to a Change.org petition calling for Love’s release from prison with over 2,000 signatures at this time, she was with a friend when two men began harassing them with slurs and epithets, and Love was struck in the face.

As Love and her friend rushed to escape the attack in their car, one of their attackers standing near the vehicle was permanently injured. Later, Love turned herself in for the injury and was charged with 1st degree attempted murder. If convicted, she faces 10 years in prison….You can read more about Eisha’s story and support her by signing and sharing this Change.org petition, and by using hashtag #FreeEisha on social media”

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New Film: Out in the Night

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I’m teaching a “Representations of Women” class at George Mason University (GMU) where I am a new adjunct professor. A key lesson from my class is that women are, first of all, under-represented in most media (from tv shows and movies to op-eds and news articles) and a second lesson is that when they are there, they’re often sexualized or stereotyped.

GMU Professor Giovanna Chesler is the producer of a new film Out in the Night which encompasses both street harassment and representations of women in the media — and more.

Via Bitch Magazine:

“Who has the right to self-defense? How do race, class, sexuality, and gender expression affect what our society sees as violent? In 75 minutes, new documentary Out in the Night challenges us to consider these questions.

The film follows the case of Venice Brown, Terrain Dandridge, Renata Hill and Patreese Johnson, four women who became known as the New Jersey Four after they defended themselves against an assault on the streets of New York City’s West Village.

On August 18, 2006, seven young black lesbians friends from Newark, New Jersey, came to New York City’s West Village. As they walked down the street, they were harassed by a man named Duane Buckle. When they told him they were gay, he began threatening to rape them—then he physically attacked them, throwing his lit cigarette at them, ripping the hair from one woman’s head, and choking another woman. The women defended themselves and, at some point during the four-minute fight, two unknown men jumped in to assist them. As Buckle attempted to choke Renata Hill, Patreese Johnson stabbed him with a pen knife. The two unknown men left the scene, but when police arrived, they arrested the women. Buckle was taken to the hospital where he stated that men had attacked him. Nonetheless, the women were charged with assault and attempted murder.”

From the Out in the Night Facebook page:

“Out in the Night follows their journey to Rikers Island, to the courtroom, and through slanderous media coverage that labeled them a “Wolfpack” and “Lesbian Gang”. While exploring the fight from all sides through the security camera footage that captured it, that hot August night in 2006 can be seen from many perspectives. But our film’s purpose is to examine the events after the fight: biased media coverage likening the women to “man-hating” animals, and unprecedentedly harsh sentencing by the court. This story shows how four young, queer women of color were unfairly criminalized for defending themselves.”

The film team has been screening the documentary at film festivals (there are a few screenings coming up, see if there’s one near you!) and Professor Chesler and I plan to meet up upon her return. Stay tuned!

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Men Harass and Attack Transgender Women in Atlanta

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Trigger Warning —

A group of men on a MARTA train in Atlanta, Georgia harassed two transgender women, theb stripped one nude and violently attacked them both. The men ignored the women’s requests to stop. Bystanders, the women said, did nothing to help and some videotaped the attack. Allegedly MARTA staff did nothing when the women tried to report it, but now, after their story has received media attention, MARTA is looking into what happened.

It’s too late though. Both women are moving away from Atlanta after the attack. “I don’t feel safe here,” one of the women said.

The attack began with the type of harassment familiar to many transgender people:

“[They] just kept of asking us was we real,” said Janell Crosby. “Like really trying to get us. ‘Are you real?’ ‘Are y’all this or that?’ Just trying to embarrass us.”

“They were trying to find out if we are men or women,” said Tyra Woods. “I shouldn’t have to disclose who I am to an innocent person who I’m not even interested in talking to.”

Exactly. Their attention, time, and personal history is not the business of random people they encounter in public spaces. They — and everyone — should have the right to be safe and respected in public spaces and have the freedom to just be themselves. And they — and we — need bystanders, transit agencies and law enforcement officers to take street harassment seriously and take appropriate action.

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Queer in Public: Focusing on the Good

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Guest Post by Court Baxter for International Anti-Street Harassment Week

Photo by Eliza Buckley

“I bet you love to go down on each other. Do you eat her out?”

This was my welcome to New York.  Walking down the street in Union Square holding hands with my girlfriend, two hours after I had landed in New York City to visit her, a stranger whispered this close behind us as we crossed E. 17th street before swiftly disappearing.  The next night, another belligerent man yelled at us from across the square.  A month later, a man asking for money stood closely behind us as I refilled my metro card and whispered homophobic expletives.

That was my proverbial straw.  Now, I’ve never been much of a wallflower, but we — women, the queer community, minority groups–  are often taught that responding to the slew and sewage of street harassment isn’t always worth our time.  It is not always safe.  So despite my activist impulses, my inner rage, and the weight of deep sadness in which I felt I could do nothing to protect this person who I loved so wholeheartedly from that harassment (let alone protect myself), I stayed quiet.  I always stayed quiet.  I would cry later, after these incidents, and try to direct my anger in a way that felt healthy and cathartic.  It was a survival mechanism – figurative and literal – because as we know, responding in the moment isn’t always an option and in this day and age (despite swift cultural change)  fear of attack or death is alarmingly real.  So we learn to deal.  We internalize.  We do what we have to do.

Photo by Court Baxter

It was soon after the man in the subway station when I decided that I couldn’t accept that reality.   Those moments with Phoebe replayed in my head every time I went to hold her hand in public. They resurfaced almost every time I saw a happy straight couple show affection in public.  I was angry.  The fact that these men and their vitriolic threats had tarnished what I saw as my very “normal” inclination to hold hands with the person I loved.  But I didn’t want to harbor this frustration every time I saw happy couples.  And I didn’t want to always feel like it was my responsibility to confront any other person who harassed us.  Besides, there were already organizations working so diligently to address this issue from that angle.  I decided I wanted to focus on the good.  I wanted to find couples, who despite daily fear of very real harassment, make the decision to love their partners anyway.  To kiss them goodbye on the corner of 86th and Lex anyway.  To hold their hands in Flatbush anyway.

Queer in Public, or QUIP, is a a crowd-sourced street photography initiative in which we take photographs of queer couples who show affection in public.  It’s an effort to familiarize and normalize queer affection, and archive the reality that people all over the world are standing up to harassment — simply by their refusal to be conditioned to stay invisible. We are a movement to transform “queer love” into plain old: “love”.  Or, as I like to sometimes describe it, a way of saying “fuck you” to the haters, “you can’t stop us.”

Photo by Court Baxter

For some, the threat of violence is too real, and the simple act of holding hands or kissing on a street corner would be unwise and unsafe. But for the rest of us, we have the capability to shift the tides by making ourselves visible.  I’m part of this movement because despite what can feel like a never-ending, dismal tunnel- I see that light.  I see couples day after day, in cities and towns all over the world, show love for the ones they love.  There is incredible work to be done, and QUIP is part of that work, but we are absolutely chipping away and for those of us who feel safe enough to do so, being queer in public gives us power by making us real.

Courtney Baxter is a professional rabble rouser. She is Chief of Staff at The OpEd Project, runs community initiatives at Feminsting, and is the Founder of Queer in Public. To be a part of the movement, join us here.

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