I’m 17 years old, and I’ve received ‘unwanted attention’ from men almost everyday since I was about 13, which is the same for an unfortunate number of girls I know. Up until now, it’s never really affected me. I’ve brushed it off, or shouted something offensive back if possible.

A couple of months ago, I was walking home from sixth form with a friend, around 4 p.m., and as we approached her street, a man in a white van drove past screaming, “GET YOUR ASS OUT.”

There was something so aggressive about it that made me feel both terrified and physically ill. After seeing my friend to her house, I had a good ten minute walk to mine, the entirety of which I spent on the phone to my boyfriend trying not to cry. I’m sick of feeling vulnerable and scared every time I leave the house and being treated like a slab of meat with tits. I want to be able to live the rest of my life without worrying about being grabbed at by a sorry excuse for a human being. It’s not okay.

– DWM

Location: Calcott Road, Bristol, UK

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
Check out the new book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers!

This story has both the good and the bad in it. Bad news first (it is a harassment story, after all).

I was waiting for the Q train at Union Square, probably about 11:30 or so at night. I hardly ever go out socially at night without my husband. As much as I hate that that’s the only way I actually feel safe enjoying the city at night, it’s my preference. In this case, I was coming from an important function for my law journal – of course I’m not going to let the creeps deter me from my responsibilities and work/school life.

I was standing at the platform, when a man half-swaggers/half-shuffles in front of me, mumbling incoherently. I try ignoring him, but he’s clearly mumbling at me, so I ask, “What?” After more mumbling, I say – tersely, I might add, since I was on my guard about this guy from the start – “I cannot understand a word you’re saying.” He replies with a barely-comprehensible “Can I getchyo number?” I said “No.” without looking at him. He, the mumbling buffoon, immediately takes it upon himself to reply, “Whatever, you’re a fucking slut, anyways.”

Now, I was tired after a very long and active day, but it just made my blood boil so much that I turned around to him as he was shuffling away, “EXCUSE ME? You don’t even know me! I happen to be married and you CANNOT talk to me like that!” Then, losing his mumble, he shouted back. “No you’re not, you’re not married, don’t lie, you’re just a fucking whore.” I lost my head; I could barely see; I was so enraged and exhausted, that I just kept screaming at him “I’m married; leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone.” He kept at it for a while, calling me every kind of name in the book, all because I had the good sense to not give my number to some creep in the subway at midnight.

People saw. People stared. And he walked away quickly, since by now all eyes were on him, having watched him torment me. Here comes the good part.

As the trembling dissipated and the wave of fear started to dissipate and tears were welling in my eyes, the most wonderful girl, about my age, put her arm strongly around me and asked if I was okay. The Q was approaching and she asked if this was my train, since she wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to be stuck on a train for thirty minutes with this creep. Fortunately, he was long gone. We both got on and then had a great conversation about just the kind of things this blog talks about. I told her about SSH, and she told me about a great non-profit called Groove With Me that she works for, which focuses on empowering young women.

I felt a lot calmer with a kind stranger to talk to, and I also enjoyed being able to talk about these issues right after a perfect example, in front of a bunch of commuters who witnessed the whole t hing. In fact, as I left the train and was walking the short distance to my apartment, a young guy walking a few paces ahead of me turned and also politely asked if I was okay. He had seen it as well. I thanked him and said I was okay now, and just happy to be getting home. I also voiced my frustration at how awful it is to be so disrespected just for being a woman. He was understanding and wished me a good night.

When it comes down to it, the good people outnumber the bad.

– KN

Location: Union Square, Manhattan

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
Check out the new book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers!

I am 16 and I have a part-time job after school. I get out in the early evening, but it’s dark by 4:30 p.m. in the winter, and I’ve had a few uncomfortable situations, but never scary. This particular day I left work I had barely walked two yards from the door when a man coming towards me stopped abruptly to block my path. “You’re gonna catch a cold missy!” he said. I thought he meant it like a caring adult to any kid, but then he added, “You’re ta-tas are hanging out.”

I became very aware that this man was standing purposefully in my way, commenting on my body and coming closer. I quickly walked around him and mumbled ‘okay’ and he said, “You sure you’re okay? miss?” I replied, “Yes, I’m fine thank you.”

I tried to walk away without looking back as he replied, “Yes you are fine…” and I stopped listening because I felt nauseous and I couldn’t tell if he was still following me. As I speed walked away I called two friends to possibly deter him from following me, neither answered. The third friend did and when I was sure I had lost the man I explained what happened and how afraid I was. She dryly replied, “You’ll get over it.” and changed the subject.

But I can’t. I can’t get over the looks and the car horns and unintelligible things called out of moving cars, or the groups of boys singing to me about my body, or the men leaning over to get a better look. I can’t get over it because I go home feeling that I am a nothing to them, and they’ll forget what they said but I won’t be able to shake the fear of seeing them again tomorrow.

– WM

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
Check out the new book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers!

 

One night after a dance class, I went to Walmart. As I left, I noticed a man walk into the store. He had ragged, torn jeans and muddy boots and was wearing a white tank top. It was pretty chilly outside. I was walking to my car, but I heard someone following me. I thought it was just someone else leaving, but I turned around to see that same man following me. I started walking faster. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking nervously. I was afraid that he was going to grab me or attack me. He said “Gettin’ cold sweetheart?”

That was enough to make me burst into tears. I was scared to death. I replied “No, I’m fine.”

Then I practically ran to my car. It took me several tries to get the key into the door to unlock it since I was shaking. Once I got in, I drove home; probably 20 miles over the speed limit. I was hyperventilating. Scared to death. Since that night, I don’t go anywhere alone at night. I’m afraid to go pump gas into my car at night, I don’t go to Walmart late at night, and even during the daytime, I watch my surroundings constantly. That experience changed my life. I am afraid always, even if I am surrounded by friends or my boyfriend.

– Rachel B.

Location: Georgia

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
Check out the new book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers!

A while ago I thought I’d help motivate myself to get out of the house and get active by making myself tea and going for a walk around my block. After all, I love walking, and I’m too broke to join a gym. I was all excited about it, had my tea, made it to the other side of the block and was really enjoying being out in the sun, with all the happy little houses around….and then was heftily sexually harassed as I passed a house full of people who were hanging out in their front yard. They talked about my body parts for at least the entire time I was in earshot, loudly talking about me in the third person and shouting instructions and opinions at me. It was mostly one guy, but there were both guys and girls laughing along with him.

I’ve realized this is pretty common any time I walk places. Street harassment is alive and well in Los Angeles.

This is why I don’t leave my house as much as I’d like to, and why I no longer skate anywhere – because I just can’t muster the energy to deal with scary douches. I’m tired of having to be combat-ready all the time. So now I mostly just stay home or only drive places (even if I could walk there).

– MAG

Location: North Hollywood, CA

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
Check out the new book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers!