Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

“They have no right to do what they do”

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I have been harassed so many times it’s hard to keep track! It’s usually when I am walking home, and it doesn’t matter what time of day it is. When I was younger I was often harassed while I was wearing my school uniform, which I think is even more disgusting!

Here are a few which have stuck in my mind:

– One man shouted very loudly from his bedroom window that I was a ‘slut’. As I was wearing my school uniform, I felt absolutely horrible – I had no choice in my clothes and he made me feel totally degraded.

– There is a narrow road on my walk home, so the cars are quite close. One guy leaned out of his car and tried to lift my school skirt up with his umbrella. This still makes me cringe, I can’t believe anyone would do that, especially to a young girl!

– Many people have wolf whistled at me at various times of day.

– One man followed me and kept asking me if he could carry my bags, he wouldn’t leave me alone and I was only 11 at the time, it was completely terrifying, and when I got home my mum called the police.

– A guy at a bus stop demanded to know why me and my friend were wearing dresses – it was a very hot day, are we supposed to cover up??

– People have pinched my bum before.

– A guy tried to kiss me.

I never know how to respond to these harassers, so I never usually do, which makes me feel even more vulnerable. I hate harassers, they have no right to do what they do, and I do not understand why they think it’s a compliment!

– VW

Location: London, UK

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“I just wanted to go home”

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I was out with my boyfriend and before I was even able to pay for our parking a man started yelling at me from across the street. I ignored it initially, not even turning around and look at him. My boyfriend was still getting out of the car when it started, but yelled back at the stranger when he walked up. I flipped the man off for his rudeness, which I think made him uncomfortable (the goal I’d hoped to achieve), and he yelled a few more things while walking around the sidewalk.

Though I was glad to have done something and glad for the support from my boyfriend, it still bothered me a lot and for a while I just couldn’t bring myself to hold hands with my boyfriend or even make eye contact. I just wanted to go home. Luckily we went to an art gallery where I could wander around alone for a while.

I hate disrespectful men like that and I hope he’ll live his life lonely and sad until he learns to act respectfully to others.

– Anonymous

Location: Uptown Charlotte, NC

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USA: Why I Tolerated Harassment in High School

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By Natasha Vianna, Jan. – June 2013 SSH Blog Correspondents

For a chunk of my adolescence, I genuinely believed that sexual and street harassment were the ultimate forms of flattery. If a guy was willing to whistle, call out nicknames, or harass me, then hey… that must mean I am attractive. And heck, for most of my life, I was told to always appreciate a compliment; so I did.

At the time, part of me enjoyed the harassment because it meant I was sexy or pretty to someone else. In high school, there was an overwhelming pressure to look good, dress well, and “bring all the boys to my yard.”  There was jealousy, bitterness, lust, innocence, naivety, and tons of harassment. In fact, by the time I finished my freshmen year of high school, I already believed that if I wasn’t getting attention in the hallways of my school, I was boring and unattractive and needed to do something about it.

The guys in my school were so easily predictable. I knew that if I wore tighter pants or a shorter skirt, I may get a compliment here and there or a stare from the hot football player from across the room. It all seemed like a fun game and I liked having that type of power.

It wasn’t until the harassment quickly shifted from “Hey, you look cute in that shirt” to “You have a fat ass” to “Hey, come and suck my dick bitch,” that I realized I wasn’t enjoying this game anymore. The harassment began to escalate, quickly, and I began to hate walking through the hallways of my high school.

The hot football player would approach me regularly now to see if I wanted to have sex with him. And just like that, he would ask. I’d uncomfortably say no, but it didn’t matter anymore. “So why have you been eyef***ing me from across the room in that short skirt?”

Instead of standing up and shouting, “Because I can wear whatever the f***I want and stare at whomever the f*** I want without wanting to ever f***.” like I would today, I adopted this false belief that what I wear, how I behave, and what I say ultimately determines the treatment I deserve from men. And for years, I worshipped this idealogy.

School became uncomfortable but there was nothing I felt I could do about it anymore. Sexual harassment is rarely addressed in schools the right way. Instead of telling boys to keep their hands to themselves and respect women, girls were told to wear longer skirts and looser clothing. We were blamed when we were mistreated. We were asking for it or just begging for attention.

Here’s an example: My teacher once sent me to the office because my middrift was slightly showing and it was a distraction to the boys in the class. Pissed, I pulled my shirt down and walked down the hallway to meet with the principal. Standing uncomfortably in front of the male principal, who was now looking up and down at me, told to put on a sweater from my locker. For the rest of the day, I covered my 15 year old body in school so the boys could focus on their schoolwork.

When I graduated high school and walked away from those horrible hallways, it didn’t end. The voices of, “Hey baby” and echoes of whistling followed me down many streets… literally. But based on what I endured and learned in high school, I believed this was just normal treatment and how women were supposed to be treated. I trekked on and just tolerated the street harassment never once thinking I was a victim but believing that this is how I would eventually meet my husband.

Thanks to friends and social networking, I was able to talk about (and blog) about my experiences to people who could really help me understand the complexities of harassment. It was an eye-opening, and sometimes painful, experience but one that has changed my life for the better.

Natasha Vianna, a fearless activist and young feminist, is a freelance writer and blogger based out of Boston, MA. Follow her on twitter!

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“I looked like a prostitute because I was wearing a red lipstick”

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Early morning, going to work. In my bag are books. One car stopped in front of me. I turned my face and kept walking. Then on the next block he appeared again. Asked if was going to work. I said to him what kind of question was that. And continued walking. He came again apologized for himself saying he wanted to meet me. I told I was going to work and that I was not interested. I never stopped walking, he kept following me and finally offended me saying that I looked like a prostitute because I was wearing a red lipstick!

Serious? In 2013? Give me a break please!

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

I always refuse in a polite way, if the guy keeps bothering me I start to answer very loud, mainly at public places. I have a little knife in my bag and if I need it I sure will use it.

– Rosa

Location: São Paulo Brasil

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“I couldn’t shake the freaky feeling”

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For my summer internship I have been traveling to and from DC via metro. As I texted my sister that I had reached my home metro stop, a man approached me and was very quickly four inches from my face. I looked up, startled, and asked if I could help him. Maybe he needed directions? He threw his hand towards me and said, “Hi my name is ‘uncomfortable street harasser’s name’ and I think you are beautiful.”

I had absolutely no idea what to do. My whole life I have been taught that if someone asks for a handshake, you reciprocate, and I had no desire to antagonize this crazed man, so I did. Immediately, I regretted it (and purelled later).

He said again, “You are beautiful” and added, “I am going to take you on a date.” At this point I had gained some composure and responded, “Thank you but I am not interested.” What the hell was coming out of my mouth? Why was I “thanking” him? This weirdo had come up to me while I was minding my own business and begun to harass me!

He then continued to ask me out on a date and tell me how much I would be missing should I reject him, which I already had multiple times. As I continued to politely deny him, I looked around to see where and what other metro stop people were doing. Was I safe? There was an older man with an LSU cap across the street giving my harasser a solid stare. He recognized that I was not comfortable and motioned for me to come over to him. But what if I was just exchanging one unwanted come on for another?

I went for Option C – excuse myself. I firmly told my street harasser that I had to make an important phone call and walked over to where others were waiting for a bus. The man eventually stopped staring at me and my sister arrived, but I couldn’t shake the freaky feeling.

I have to say. I am much more vigilant when waiting at the metro, even if I think I am safe in the sunlight.

– Katie

Location: King St. Metro Stop, Alexandria, VA

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