By Kendra Corbin, SSH Intern
As a young woman, I’ve experienced my fair share of street harassment. I’ve been dealing with it for most of my life. For a long time, I tried to blow off the whistles and “hey baby” comments as just part of being a woman. Now I know better. Despite the lackluster belief that “it’s not a big deal,” it IS a terrifyingly big deal.
My most frightening experience happened when I was only 13-years-old. My older sister was 16 at the time. She had offered to drive my friend and I home late at night. We accidentally locked ourselves out of the car in an empty parking lot. As we waited for my parents, a group of men in a truck began to drive around us in circles while they honked, whistled, and laughed. Frightened and alone, we huddled together while we waited for them to lose interest and leave.
In retrospect, it disgusts me that those men found amusement in harassing terrified children. I also find myself growing angry, but I become angrier because I recognize that my experience is not uncommon. Street harassment is a subject that most women can relate to because they’ve experienced it themselves. Whenever I bring the subject up with friends or acquaintances, the conversation seems to flood with stories that all begin with, “Well, this one time…” In honor of these stories that have been shared with me, I would like to acknowledge just a few of the harassers that either I or my loved ones have encountered.
The man that yelled, “I didn’t know they made tits that big” to me as I walked to class, then demanded that I show him that “cherry pie under there.”
The man that tried to yank up my friend’s skirt while she was visiting DC.
The man that leered at my sister, then commented on her “nice ass legs.”
The boy on my school bus who was dared to grope my breasts when I was 14 (who was not successful because I promptly shoved back into his seat).
The man that slapped my friend’s behind as she walked to the beach.
The group of men that thought it would be hilarious to pretend to masturbate as they drove by sister.
The young men that held a sign on the highway to my mother and other female drivers that read, “Show us your hooters.”
And finally, that very first man that honked and whistled at me when I was only 11-years-old.
To all of these harassers and the many others out there, we have a clear message: We are not required compliment your male ego. Your advances are not welcomed. Your words are not flattering. Your behavior is intolerable.
To every woman that has had her day interrupted by rude comments, uncomfortable gazes, unwanted touching, or any other form street harassment, you are not alone. Familiarize yourself with ways to respond to street harassers. You’ll thank yourself for it later when you’re prepared with a witty response for someone’s barbaric behavior.
Please share your story.
Kendra Corbin is senior at Shenandoah University. She is majoring in Mass Communications and minoring in Women’s Studies.
