It was in my mid to late teens that my breasts really began developing. And they didn’t stop until I hit my early twenties. While hardly record breaking, they are larger than average. And yes, this is a real problem.

Now I realize for some women, my complaining about a “great rack” can cause a reaction similar to the one I have when a thin woman complains about being unable to gain weight. Come closer, skinny girl, so I can pop you in the nose.

But here’s the thing I want to share…as a young woman who did nothing but grow up to get these things on my chest, it was shocking and hurtful to realize the assumptions that people were making about me because of this aspect of my appearance. And not just men. The most hurtful and damaging remarks actually came from other women.

Promiscuous. Oversexed. Asking for it. Stupid. Trashy. Slut. Porn star wannabe.

The pain those assumptions and remarks caused me as a teen and a young woman was immense. The impact on my self-esteem and self-image, devastating.

I have a genius level IQ. As a friend says, I am “wicked smart”. And I have a keen sense of humor. Oh, and I have green eyes. But I’m pretty sure most men never saw any of that.

Walking down the street in New York, or anywhere for that matter, it’s as if you’ve granted any man who wishes a license to leer and catcall. After all you have big boobs, so you’re just asking for it, right? Ah, no. No, I’m not.

After living in NYC for many years I grew weary of the street calling nonsense and began to bite back. This really started one evening when I was walking home and rounded the corner to my block only to hear a fellow waiting for the bus call out some nonsense. I recognized him as a guy who worked at one of the bodegas on the block and something in me snapped a little. I walked right up to him and let him know that this was where I lived. This was my home. How dare he come to my neighborhood and disrespect me and make me feel less than safe?

I scared the crap out him and he seemed to decide that he didn’t need to wait for the bus to skedaddle on home as he backed away apologizing.

Boy, was that satisfying. Speaking out then became something I could do (if I felt safe to) and it was empowering. It was like a first step toward taking back full ownership of my own body. Even these dang pesky boobs. Maybe they don’t get to “speak” for me anymore.

Last year I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer. I only required a lumpectomy and medication and have to admit I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get to lose these things once and for all. I know that may sound shocking to many of you but these suckers have caused me plenty of trouble over the years. But it was not meant to be. It appears we’re stuck with each other.

I’d like to share a closing thought for all of you. We are here to talk about street harassment and intellectually we all agree that how we dress or look is no one’s business but our own. Let’s remember that as we women look at each other and the judgments we place on each other. Let’s pledge to not assume that red head with the breasts is a trashy tramp. And I will pledge to not pop any skinny girl in the nose, ever.

Optional: What’s one way you think we can make public places safer for everyone?

Education is the only thing I can think of and that’s not about a place, it’s about a mindset. The “card” videos showed so clearly that these men don’t understand, or even worse, don’t really care. It is some sort of birthright as a man. I know it doesn’t have to be that way. I had two brothers. They would never dream of calling out someone in the street. I know it was how they were raised and taught.

– Lee Allison

Location: New York, NY, Upper East Side

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for more idea

Walking to a bus stop on North Circular in London, an older English guy wearing tiny running shorts, goes loudly, “Excuse me, could you suck me off?” whilst pulling up the slides of his shorts to reveal his flaccid withered penis. I don’t even look at him, go “Urgh no” and walk on. He says to my retreating back, “Why don’t I fuck you in the arse?” I say, still walking away, “Why don’t you fuck yourself in the arse?” No response. I walk on to my stop and get on the bus.

This happened in broad daylight in the middle of the afternoon. I was wearing jeans and tshirt. I suspect the reason he stopped harassing me was either the lack of reaction on my part- or perhaps the mother and 5 year old boy on a scooter close behind me, suddenly appearing around the corner.

It made me very angry that he would do that- I think men like him do it to shock and aggravate women- like what are you gonna do about this?
I now do feel more nervous approaching that bus stop, and always keep and eye out around the area- which is where I live.

I would encourage anyone who experiences these stupid men to first speak out at them and make it clear they are stupid, and to appear supremely unbothered by their stupid behavior. They’re after a reaction. Don’t give them any satisfaction. Get on with your day.

Optional: What’s one way you think we can make public places safer for everyone?

Educate men better, harsher punishments for offenders, better schemes for offenders in prisons, better sex education in schools. The list goes on- but it should focus on MEN changing. Girls have every right to dress how they like and go where they like and not be harassed.

– HMJ

Location: London North Circular bus stop

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for more idea

From the time I was 12 years old, I’ve been sexually harassed on the street. I am overweight, and wear jeans and t-shirts like everyone else. The harassment happens about once a week (sometimes more, sometimes less), and always by different men who are complete strangers to me.

Almost every time it’s a man (or multiple males) in a vehicle, while I’m on foot. I very rarely get harassed when I’m walking with a male. I no longer walk down main streets, to avoid being harassed. I ignore the catcalls, but it’s secretly infuriating every time it happens. There have been a handful of times where I’ve legitimately feared for my safety.

– Anonymous

Location: BC, Canada

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for more idea

This summer I’ve probably been street harassed twice a week, if not more sometimes and I don’t even go out a lot! This week I was walking back home from a place that is literally not a full block away from my house and a guy started cat calling me and pulled over. And I just came back from the park where guys in a car started honking and whistling, and called me a bitch. My mom was even pretty close by!? I’m only 16 years old and I already feel disgusted like women are objects in the eyes of some men.

But this is nothing unusual in our society.

What I wanted to share was my younger cousin’s response to someone street harassing her. She bragged about the disgusted, perverted comments made to her by some strangers. To her it was a compliment, something that made desirable in our society because men want her.

That made me sad. That empowers the harassers even more.

– Anonymous

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for more idea