I’m an exchange student from the USA currently in Ecuador, a beautiful country for its nature and culture. However, like many countries, there is also a strong “rape culture.” Spanish speakers would call the country “Machista”. Here, it is disgustingly common (and socially acceptable) for men to cat call the women and treat them like they are less than human beings.

To be honest, when I experienced a cat call for the first time here, I admit, I thought it was funny and kind of flattering. I thought, ‘Hey, they actually think I’m pretty.’ That was the last time I thought that. Every time I walk to the bus stop, I am honked at by men behind steering wheels and cars full of boys who whistle and shout things at me. The scariest is when I am just walking home at dusk with thoughts occupying my mind and all of a sudden, a deafening honk from a truck makes me jump out of my reverie and into a world where it’s funny to scare teenage girls walking by themselves. I’ve seen the faces of fully grown men, laughing to each other when they see I glance at the oncoming vehicle that beeped at me. I have learned to not look up.

I have never given the middle finger to anyone in my life, but one day, I thought it would be an interesting experiment to see someone’s reaction. As I was walking to the bus as usual, a truck with two men passed by, with the head of the passenger sticking out as he called to me. He said words like cute and pretty and I flipped him off. My heart was racing but I kept eye contact with him as his face fell into a kind of dumb stupor. The look of an excited boy who doesn’t understand why he’s gotten socks for Christmas. Later, I felt a panic. ‘What if they turn around? What if they kidnap me?’ It may have been an overreaction, but the fact that those possibilities enter my mind when I’m just walking on the sidewalk shows that this beautiful country isn’t as beautiful as it seems.

I shouldn’t have to carry a whistle in my bag. (Even though my best Ecuadorian friend tells me, even if you blew that whistle, no one would do anything. That is my culture.) I shouldn’t have to think about all the possible ways to defend myself with the rocks and shards of glass on the sidewalk.

I started a “Cat Call Count” on my computer, but lost count after I lost my spirit. I didn’t want to tally the honks and the “complements” anymore.

I know blonde people are a little scarce in this country, but it is no excuse to treat me like some zoo animal. The stares and shouts are unwanted and they don’t even notice.

– AKB

Location: Quito, Ecuador

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Hello, I just wanted to share a couple of my experiences of street harassment:

When I was younger (about 13 yrs) I was walking with my mom to a gas station nearby, while we were crossing a parking lot, a pick up truck came from behind us and drove in a circle around us a few times.They never tried to talk to us, they just circled slowly and then drove away.

Another time (I was about 16 at this point) I was walking home with a friend and my brother, we crossed the same parking lot and these guys pulled up in a car and one of them shouted “show us your tits!”

I was just shocked and ignored them, my friend yelled “f*** you!” , the guy said, “Show us your tits” again and yelled a couple of other things. (I don’t remember what), they eventually gave up and drove off.
These experiences made me feel uncomfortable and like I’m only seen as only an object instead of a human being. I really hope that all street harassment comes to an end.

Love and best wishes to all the women and men out there who know what it feels like to experience any type of harassment.

– Anonymous

Location: Parking lot

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When I walk out to do my grocery shopping I have to hear how “tasty” I look, although I dress modestly and not revealing at all to go to the market. I also hear how much “they’d be able to make a fine job with me to put a smile on my face”. Every time this happens, I hold my keys a little tighter, holding in the indignation I feel for his complete entitlement of judging if I am appealing to him or not.

I do not leave the house any longer without any kind of music playing in my ears because this is a form of aggression that ruins my whole day.

– Ana

Location: São Paulo, Brazil

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One night, I was going home on the bus, when a man about forty started talking to me, completely out of the blue. At first he told me about his life and I tried to act polite, I clearly didn’t want him to talk to me but I couldn’t really walk away. Then he began to ask me what my name was, where I lived, where I studied and so on. It completely took me by surprise, so I had to come up with a plausible lie for every question he asked me; I was really panicking on the inside, but I knew I couldn’t absolutely let it surface. At the same time, I looked around, looking for some support from the other passengers: they all looked away when our eyes met.

They saw I was young -I was 19 at the time- and rather frightened, but no one intervened, not even to try and distract him. When he began asking me whether we could go out for a coffee some time or other, there I knew I couldn’t really stay on the bus any longer: I got off three stops earlier, just to make sure that man wouldn’t follow me home or find out where I lived in any way. The fact that I now have to be very careful when I use public transportation after 10 p.m. and check who is already at the bus stop trying to figure out whether that person could be dangerous is not tragic enough; the worst part has been seeing that nobody, neither the passenger nor the driver, cared to help me in any way, even though they clearly perceived the danger; they simply acted like they didn’t notice.

I feel like women are forced to learn to be paranoid and self-conscious everywhere they go, lest they have to deal with any kind of danger or harassment.

– G.C.

Location: Not specified

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