These people say things I’m supposed to feel flattered about, but I still feel harassed & dirty afterwards. Sometimes the words are just insinuated, like they ‘say’ it by singing it, kind of like an indirect way of telling you what they think – as if you asked for their opinion or harassment.

I think we have a long way to go with this one, especially in the Third World, but it would be nice if this street harassment could stop at some point, hopefully soon, but definitely eventually. This harassment is something that has always bothered me, & has affected me on a considerable level. What I hate is that people feel COMFORTABLE in saying whatever it is they wish to say without thinking about things or weighing their words first, as if it’s their god-given right to just call people names or hurt them verbally.

But if they can arrest people “joking” about mass murders, then surely something can be done about verbal harassers. Maybe they can be fined, but it seems like a tricky thing to do. What if the harassers are under-age, or what if they merely ‘insinuate’ things, & won’t own up to the harassment? What about people that say this is something that is natural?

– Anonymous

Location: street, mall

Share your street harassment story for the blog.

Cross-posted with permission from JulieMastrine.com

Street harassment is a global human rights problem, one that I’ve been working to combat for about two years now. As a Stop Street Harassment volunteer,  I’m educated on the issue and work to help others identify these incidents and fight back when they occur, but I’m still left reeling and uncomfortable when it happens to me. And in the span of just one day this week, I was harassed four times by men in my area.

I’m currently living in State College, PA, a “college town” by any means. Home to Penn State University, every four years a new crop of undergraduate students take over the area, bringing with them the customs, norms and attitudes they’ve picked up from their respective hometowns. Penn State students hail from many corners of the country, whether it be a small town in Western PA, a suburb in New Jersey, or a city block in New York. I’ve met students from as far and wide as Hawaii, Florida, and Alaska.

But the fact that many of these students assert their power over women and LGBTQ persons by harassing them in public spaces — mostly by making sexual comments — speaks volumes as to the pervasiveness of street harassment globally. Each of these students come from different corners of the world, but street harassment is a societal norm they’ve all managed to pick up on. Year after year, it’s astonishing that this is an activity they all seem to know of and perpetrate, despite their varied backgrounds.

This weekend, I grabbed a book and threw on my bathing suit, heading to a nearby grassy knoll to sunbathe with my twin sister, Amy. We were able to enjoy just a few minutes of peace in the July heat when a man in a truck drove by, honking, leering and waving at us from the road. He had to have been over the age of 60, and I was thoroughly grossed out. I took solace in the fact that there was some physical distance between us, him on the road and me in the grass, so I flipped him off with a wry smile and continued reading. But that wasn’t the last of the objectification we’d experience that day.

Fast forward to 10 p.m. My sister and I were heading to a friend’s apartment for drinks when a group of three guys walking in front of us turned around, looked at us and started to slow down until they were walking next to us. Feeling my personal space violated by these strangers, I immediately tensed up and went silent.

“Hey, where are you girls from?” one of them asked.

Summer in State College is generally made up of permanent residents and freshmen getting a jump start on their classes, downing one too many Natty Lights in the process. My sister, sensing from their scrawny legs and general unease that they were freshmen, let out a groan and replied, “I graduated…sooo I’m way older than you,” hoping they’d get the hint we were young working professionals who were uninterested in their advances.

The guys sauntered off, but later that night, yet another group approached us on the street. It was a pack of an intimidating number of men — about 10 by my count, bleary-eyed from too many shots and walking in a triangular formation with one shorter dude leading the pack.

“Hey ladies!” he shouted in our faces as we passed.

“Ugh, dammit!“ Amy yelled back.

“Stop harassing me!” I shouted over my shoulder.

We were met with confused looks by the entire posse, clearly shocked that a female stranger on the street didn’t appreciate their scrutiny.

Three incidents of harassment in one day is enough, but a few hours later, as we headed to a birthday party, the same group of guys passed us again.

“Oh, we already tried to talk to those girls,” the pack leader said, smirking at us and then turning to his friend to make some other inaudible comments about our outfits. It would appear they’d been making a sport of harassment that night.

“Oh my GOD,” Amy shouted, even more exasperated this time. “My outfit is NOT an invitation!”

We were a few beers deep by this point and continued to yell at the men about how they should stop feeling entitled to women’s attention. But the damage had been done. During each of these instances the unwanted attention made me uncomfortable to the point that I froze up and even stumbled when it came to reasserting my power by shouting back, something I’d made a point to do as a personal rebellion against this type of behavior when it occurs (at least when I felt safe enough).

It’s also important to remember that instances like this can escalate into something much scarier and threatening. The day before my fourfold experiences with street harassment, a friend pulled me aside to spell out what happened to her on the way to work that week. On an otherwise silent 8 a.m. bus, a man sat down near her and started watching porn on his mobile device, then got an erection. Because she was going to work, she couldn’t just get off at the next stop to avoid him — she was forced to ride the entire trip with him nearby. What’s worse: he exited the bus at her stop.

My friend was able to make it safely to work despite the scare, and I encouraged her to alert the bus driver or even snap a picture and alert the police should he appear again. These incidents show that street harassment is something you never really “get used to” or accept as a compliment, as society would have women do. Each incident is jarring — annoying at the least and downright threatening and scary at the worst.

As the summer months wind down, I know this won’t be the last I’ll endure or hear about street harassment — but it sure feels good to let harassers know you’re on to their shtick and aren’t going to let them continue without knowing you’re pissed. Check out this list of assertive responses to street harassment to arm yourself if it happens to you. We may not be able to control when this problem targets us, but the least we can do is tackle it on an individual basis. Street harassment is pervasive, yes — but not unstoppable.

Julie Mastrine is a writer, PR professional, digital strategist, and experienced community outreach coordinator based in State College, PA. She’s currently a ghostwriter whose work is regularly featured in Mashable, Forbes, Business Insider, Inc. Magazine, and Inside Higher Ed. When she’s not helping clients boost their online presence, Julie volunteers in community outreach positions. She’s a social media volunteer for Stop Street Harassment and has a passion for educating others on social justice issues and organizing civic engagement efforts.