I had an experience with harassment not too long ago. I was about to get on the Metro, so I took the escalator up to the waiting area. I bought my fare-card, then walked towards the slot where I had to insert it. Ahead of me walked an extremely attractive woman who was heading in the same direction. There were not many people in the area, and I saw two of the guards looking at her too long. I knew she was going to get harassed. I could not hear what the guard said to her, but she was disconcerted. She cringed, and walked away quickly. I would have said something, but she was too far away by the time I was at the fare-card slot. Then one of the guards said to me, “Let’s see a SMILE on that pretty face.”

I made eye contact with him and told him firmly (without smiling, of course), “Mind your business.”

He giggled nervously, but did not say anything else. I walked away.

I was disgusted that he was using his time searching for opportunities to make women uncomfortable. Passengers need to be aware that public transportation employees, not just other passengers, abuse their time by making women uneasy.

Do you have any suggestions for dealing with harassers and/or ending street harassment in general?

– Anonymous

Location: Franconia, Springfield, VA

[Note: SSH works with the DC Transit Authority on addressing sexual harassment. Anyone who experiences or witnesses it is encouraged to complete this online form to describe what happened. It will help WMATA with their trainings of their employees and their handling of harassment on the system.]

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Trigger Warning

I had a class that ends at 9 p.m., but my friend wanted to leave a little early, so she asked me to walk her to her car -that was parked a few blocks away- because she felt unsafe to go alone .

As we were walking down the dark desert street a group of men showed up, they started screaming obscenities. “I wanna f**k you so hard” “I’m gonna rape you” “Hey don’t go” we were really terrified so we started running .

One of the men followed us …

I can’t tell you how fast we ran that night to reach the car and lock ourselves . I felt very scared and very disgusted. As soon as my friend left I started crying.

I usually stand up to my harassers, I either give them the finger, tell them to shut up or scream at them. But that time I felt really unsafe, and I knew the best thing I could have done was to run.

That night, I had nightmares.

– Anonymous

Location: Lebanon

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As a Malaysian that has lived in many different countries in the past, I have found living in Italy to be rather vexing (to put it lightly) when it comes to getting unwanted attention from the local men. I get asked a lot whether I am a masseuse, whether I’m walking on the street or on the beach. Men mutter at me under their breath, shout at me from passing cars, and creeps tail me in cars. The list goes on.

I dislike the feeling of being objectified and sometimes wish I could zap them with something more than a death stare.

– Anonymous

Location: Italy

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A few days ago, a woman in Minneapolis used Craigslist’s “Missed Connections” to tell her street harasser how his actions made her feel and why street harassment isn’t okay. She was on foot, waiting at an intersection, he was in his car.

“So, that’s where we were. Me, minding my own business. You, apparently observing my ass. At that point you had options. You could have driven past me and said nothing. You could have turned up your radio and waved, ensconcing us in some beats and camaraderie. You could have shouted out, “Happy Friday! Yeehaw!” Any of those options would have been great. I probably would have waved, smiled, and started my weekend on the same high note as you.

Instead, you chose the most pathetic option available to you: You leaned out of your window and made some ridiculous series of leering comments about whether I was wearing a thong, right as the light changed and you peeled off, pleased with yourself and saved from any consequences.

If you’d stuck around, I would have happily shouted a few things of my own at you: that it’s people like you that make women avoid walking alone or taking transit even in broad daylight in their own cities; that no matter what screwed up metric you use it’s not a “compliment” to have someone interrogate me about my underwear; that thanks to you I would spend the entire train ride home feeling scrutinized and gross because you didn’t have the willpower or maturity to keep your mouth shut; that your wife and daughters or at the very least your mother deserve better than a cowardly man who shouts at women from the safety of his car.

Let me make this abundantly clear, to you and to the other men reading this: when you comment on a woman’s appearance, you are not doing it for her. You are doing it for you. It’s not some great way to make a woman feel sexy and appreciated. It’s not flattery, even if you mean for it to be. The only thing it is is a great way for you to create a shitty power dynamic, by which you have announced yourself as the arbiter of her value, and you’ve deemed her fuckable, and she is supposed to be happy or impressed by that.

If you really find a woman beautiful, don’t choose the juvenile selfish route that makes her feel weird and you look like an asshole. Just take a deep breath, commit the image to memory, and get on with your life. Or, if it’s really that great of an ass that you can’t possibly survive without commenting on it, post about it on CL missed connections after the fact and let her decide what to do about it.”

Awesome post. What would you tell a street harasser if you could do so safely?

If you loved this story, look out for my new book, 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers, next week.