Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

“It’s OK, we weren’t talking to you – just about you.”

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A daytime shot of the intersection where this happened in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Photo credit: Anthony Lanzilote for AM New York.

I live in a safe neighborhood.

Of course, as a woman, that’s not an unqualified statement. What I mean is, I’ve only felt a relatively normal amount of fear when I walk alone or come home late. I don’t mean safe as in, I’m not worried about being harassed, followed, or worse. I mean, I’m not as worried about being harassed and followed as I would be in some other neighborhoods.

But last night I didn’t feel safe – I felt scared.

I went to pick up take-out for my boyfriend and me. I was presumptuous enough to do this alone. As I crossed the street kitty-corner from my block, two older men entered the cross walk as well. I did have that fleeting thought – it’s only a split second, hardly articulated, but spelled out it would read, “Please don’t say anything… not tonight…”

And then I heard, “Mira.” Spanish for, “Look.” Men in New York don’t usually expect me to speak Spanish. But I understood that one of them was telling the other to look at me, and when I turned he was a foot away from me, looking me up and down, and nearly drooling. (I know, I know, so flattering.)

I couldn’t help it. This was not a moment to “just ignore it” – he was too close. I said very clearly and directly to this man, “Please stop looking at me. It makes me uncomfortable.”

He replied, “It’s ok, I was just talking to my friend.”

It’s ok, we weren’t talking to you – just about you. This street doesn’t belong to you.

The other light was green and I needed to get away. I crossed the other street quickly, in front of the last few lighted shops before my dark apartment building. But when I was halfway up the block, I saw the man who had originally pointed me out crossing diagonally through the middle of the street and heading straight toward me. I started to panic. Was he coming after me? Was he going to say something? Would he try to hurt me? Would anyone help? This is New York…

I immediately made a plan. I was carrying my cell phone and wallet in one hand and my dinner and an umbrella in the other. If anyone – a sexual harasser or otherwise – wanted to take my wallet, it would have been easy. I’ve heard so many stories, and had so many men overreact when I told them to stop harassing me, that I knew, if he was following me, how this would play out. If this man wanted to intimidate me, the easiest thing for him to do would be to grab my wallet and phone and push me to the ground. He would walk away with some cash, an iPhone, and a renewed sense of his violent power.

I put the take-out bag handle over my left wrist and with the same hand held my phone and wallet against my stomach. In my right hand, I gripped the handle of my folded umbrella, ready to defend myself.

Perhaps I should note here – I’m a peace activist. I’m a practitioner of nonviolence, and everything I do personally and professionally is aimed at reducing the amount of violence in this world. But here I was, outside my own home in my “safe” neighborhood, mentally preparing myself to hit a man with my umbrella as hard as I could to defend myself.

I was thinking it through – he had fallen in step behind me, so if I heard him get close or saw his shadow too near me, I would have to turn around. I couldn’t let him get between me and my front door or I’d never get home safely. If he put his hands on me I’d get one good whack to bat him off and I’ve have to instantly run. If I didn’t run as fast as I could and get inside that door, there would be no fending off this man twice my height. And if he happened to be walking behind me because he lived in my building of 125 units where no one talks to their neighbors, well, then, there was no hope for me.

I got inside and up four flights of stairs as fast as I could, and he didn’t try to follow me. But my boyfriend and I were both scared and angry for several minutes even after I’d dead bolted our door.

Most of the time these men don’t follow me. Compared to the stories I’ve heard, I’ve been very lucky. But this isn’t the first time this has happened, and I know it won’t be the last. Every time a man harasses me, and especially when I dare to speak back, I have to plan my self defense, my escape route, the bystander I’ll look to, and what I’ll yell. I’ve practiced, “I don’t know you! Stop it!” lest anyone think this a “domestic dispute” that they shouldn’t get involved in.

This is the city, and the world, we live in. I can march against rape, injustice, police violence, and the war, but when I go out at night… I’d better have that umbrella.

Talia Hagerty is peace economics activist and Stop Street Harassment’s 2013 summer intern. Follow her on twitter – @taliahagerty – or read her blog about making the world better at www.theoryofchange.wordpress.com.

 

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“PLEASE speak up”

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There is a bus stop outside Thorpe Park. It gets very busy there as people are waiting to leave the park. I was with a friend waiting for the bus when a man (I’d say in his 40’s) approached us both. He began making small talk to us – me being my shy self i responded to try and sound polite – he then began to compliment us, and asking us where we were going, and what bus we are getting.

I told him I’m not comfortable with saying that and he then got very, very close to me and proceeded to tell me what a SLUT I am for playing ‘hard to get’, and that I’m just begging for attention because I was wearing shorts.

My friend spoke up and told him to go away and as she tried to walk away he slapped her bum.

This is disgusting, it might not seem that bad but I was terrified. This man was so much older than me and yet he still thought it was acceptable to act like this? I must also note that me and my friend were 13 at the time, and I was wearing shorts because it was August and it was very hot.

People were around yet they just ignored it like nothing was happening. I’m 15 now and to this day people still act this way to women and men and think it’s acceptable. It’s NOT.

If you see someone who could be in a situation like this, even if you only get a little bit worried that something could happen, PLEASE speak up. Help them. I am so grateful my friend was there with me, if i was alone who knows what could have happened.

– Anonymous

Location: Thorpe park, Surrey, UK

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USA:Tzniut and Street Harassment

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By: Talia Weisberg, SSH Correspondent

As a female who lives in New York City, I’ve received my share of unwanted looks from guys. However, I’ve never really been the victim of anything worse than a creepy stare. Ever since I learned about the existence of the term street harassment, and especially after I started serving as a SSH Correspondent, I’ve tried to figure out why I’m an exception to the nearly 100% of women who have been harassed on the street. The only (weak) reason I could think of is because I’m an Orthodox Jew who mostly adheres to the laws of tzniut (SNEE-oot) in dress, meaning that I only wear skirts past the knee, sleeves that at least touch the elbow, and nothing low-cut or too tight.

If we accept my assumption for why I have never really been street harassed as true, one could argue that the solution to street harassment is for women dress according to tzniut. However, this solution would be unfair and ineffective for several reasons.

First of all, a woman’s mode of dress doesn’t always influence a would-be harasser. A few weeks ago, I began discussing street harassment with a group of my friends, who were unfamiliar with the term. After I described what constitutes street harassment, one of my friends – someone who also dresses according to tzniut – shared how she had been groped and stalked for several days while going to and coming home from school when she was in ninth grade. Hearing this friend’s story helped me realize that although it’s possible that how a woman is dressed may sometimes impact a man’s words or actions towards her, it isn’t the definitive cause for street harassment.

Another reason is because it’s women’s right as human beings to walk down the street, whether in a foreign country our own neighborhoods, without being harassed. We can’t blame the victim and tell women that it’s their job to protect themselves from street harassment; instead, we have to tell the perpetrators not to harass women on the street. Although I have chosen to dress in the manner of tzniut, and perhaps it has spared me from being victimized by street harassment, I strongly discourage women from dressing in a certain manner just to avoid street harassment. They’re our streets too, and we have every right to walk down them undisturbed.

Talia Weisberg is a Harvard-bound feminist hoping to concentrate in Studies of Women, Gender, and Sexuality. Her work has appeared in over 40 publications and she runs the blog Star of Davida blog (starofdavida.blogspot.com).

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Poem: “Respect Me”

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My name is Naomi Wilcox, I live & work in Coventry, UK. In 2012 I started the Coventry Feminists group. I am also a member of Coventry Women’s Voices.

Last year we conducted a survey in Coventry, asking women about their experiences of street harassment. In April we published a report ‘An Every Day Occurrence’, which detailed the types of harassment women have experienced, and the way it makes them feel and behave.

I wrote this poem partly in response to the report and the things women told us, but also based on my own personal experiences of street harassment from the age of about 10.

Respect Me

Respect me.
Don’t expect me
to enjoy your stare and your leer
I don’t want to hear
Your words laced with lust
While I wait for the bus
I don’t want to know what you think of my ‘ass’
or my ‘tits’
or any other bits of my body

MY  body.

Not yours to ogle or claim
or call sexy names
Not yours to grope
Not yours to touch
Not yours to assess & publicly judge

Respect me.
Don’t expect me to smile
Because you say so,
Or when you shout ‘fancy a shag’
For me to say ‘ok, let’s go’!

Stop staring
Because you’re scaring me.

“I’m fine thanks”

“Go away”

“Please leave me alone.”

“Let me be.”

Respect me.
Don’t expect me to turn around
There’s 3 of you behind me now
You whistle and whistle again
I’ve got my earphones in, head down
I pretend
I can’t hear you.
“Hey white top!” you try in vain,
that’s not my name
Have you noticed my walking has doubled in pace?
Do you have any idea how this feels,
The three of you hot on my heels,
Keen for the chase?

Respect me.
Don’t expect me to take it as a compliment
That’s not what you meant
when you yelled from your car,
rubbed against me at the bar,
followed me and smacked your lips,
tried to grab my hips,
whistled, whooped & groaned,
waited ‘til I was on my own,
hollered ‘hey baby’, ‘hey honey’, ‘hey cutie’, ‘hey sexy’,
Do you REALLY expect me
to respond to this shit?
to comply when you shout ‘show us your tits!’?
or pucker up when you murmur ‘give us a kiss’?

What is it you want?
‘cos I’ve had enough
of this stuff;
of crossing the road
and clutching my keys
of going the long way round to avoid your sleaze.
I’m sick of the feeling of fear and shame
and of fucking rape culture saying I’M to blame!

RESPECT ME!
don’t expect me to shut up about this
‘Cos we will holler back
and call you out
and tell it how it is.

It is harassment.
It is assault.
It is YOURS, and NEVER my fault.

It is power play.
It is oppression.
It is treating me like I am a possession.

It is threatening.
It is disrespectful.
It is entirely neglectful
of the fact that I am much more than ‘a nice rack’

So step back.
Shut your trap.
Walk away.
Avert your gaze.
Keep your hands to yourself,
Do not touch, or obstruct, or follow or yell,
and go tell
all your mates to stop it as well.

Listen and hear.
This isn’t a request or a plea.
It’s a demand
for you
To Respect me.

 

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Finding a new ally

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UPDATE: The person mentioned in the blog post below that I wrote yesterday ended up reading it and I am happy to say I misunderstood her response. She grew up in that area and faced street harassment and laughed because she couldn’t believe I was only walking alone for a few minutes before I was harassed. She apologized for how her response came across and said, “I understand why you continue to fight this cause and I am proud to see you stand up for others to make a change.”

And for me, her response makes all the difference!!! I am glad to have one more ally in this work to make public places safer for everyone.

Normally, I try to be a bit detached and objective when I write on this blog, but today I’m mad and hurt and that is going to come out in this post, I’m sure. I know a lot of people appreciate being able to share a story on this blog and find validation for their experiences, and that is what I’m doing today, too.

I was in Tennessee this weekend with my domestic partner for his grandpa’s 90th birthday. We had our dogs with us on the trip and before our long drive home, I took the dogs for a walk.

Within two minutes, a car full of guys yelled out the window, “Yeah, baby” at me. I looked up and just got a glimpse of white skin as they drove away. I didn’t get a chance to say a word. Not a minute later, another group of guys in a car drove toward me and I saw the passenger rolling down his window. They were gone before he could say anything.

Right then my partner texted me to see how we were doing and I told him I just got street harassed. He was worried and asked if I was okay. I said yes I was fine, just angry and I wasn’t going to let these harassers dictate where I walked.

So my dogs and I carried on. I tweeted what had happened and got some nice/supportive tweets back. Thankfully, I didn’t hear/see any other harassers during our walk.

The story doesn’t end there.

Later, someone in my my partner’s family came up to me. Laughing, she said, “I heard some rednecks yelled, ‘Yeah Baby,’ at you earlier.”

Going stiff, I said, “I don’t know if they were ‘rednecks,’ but yes, I was street harassed today.” I felt offended. I would hope that had it been a more severe form of street harassment, she wouldn’t have laughed, but I don’t know.

It is hurtful and astounding to me that any woman could be so callous about this issue and would actually laugh after finding out I was street harassed. I am still really upset 24 hours later.

My experience yesterday reminds me just how much work there is to do, including in my own family network, to make people aware of why this issue matters and why we, as a society, need to do something.

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