Who knew that being polite would turn into being harassed.

Today (April 15, 2013) I stepped out of the office for a moment during my lunch break, and saw a man with his bike. He looked like he was trying to get into the building, so I held the door for him and asked if he needed help with the door. He said he wasn’t trying to get into the building, and thanked me regardless.

This is where things took a change from good to bad.

His thanking me turned into, “You are a beautiful black queen.”

“I only accept compliments from men I know,” I said.

“You are a beautiful black queen,” he repeated.

“I don’t feel comfortable with random men that I don’t know talking to me that way,” I said.

“You are a beautiful black queen,” he once again, like a broken record, repeats.

I then remembered that I had some copies of the newest Stop Street Harassment flyer in my purse, and I pulled one out.

“Take this flyer,” I said. He backed away from the flyer as if it had cooties. The tables were turned.

“This flyer will show you why I don’t like being talked to in that way,” I said. He refused to take the flyer.

“You are a beautiful black queen,” he said. Are you fucking kidding me?! I was wondering if this guy was on something, because there looked like there was nothing going on in his eyes. He then pulls out a bag of Cheetos and starts snacking on them.

“Take the flyer,” I said. I started to become a broken record.

“You are a beautiful black queen,” he repeats.

“Take the flyer.”

“You are a beautiful black queen.”

“Take the flyer.”

“You are a beautiful black queen.”

“TAKE…THE…FLYER,” I said, this time through gritted teeth. All politeness I’d shown this man earlier had gone out the door. You want to force something on me—your unwanted compliment—I’ll force something on you right back—an anti-street harassment flyer!

Then this clown says something that’s beyond belief: “I’m going to force you to marry me and make you my beautiful black queen.” Ew! Hell no! What use do I have for some scrub on the street with ashy, Cheeto-covered fingers?! Hell no! I just couldn’t get over him saying he was going to “force” me to marry him. Gross!

I stood my ground, and remained a broken record. “Take the flyer,” I said, keeping firm.

He starts to give. “Will this make me a better black man?” he asks. Man, the hell if I know!

“Yes it will,” I said, just to shut him up. He finally takes the flyer. I’m sure he called me a “beautiful black queen” one more time, but I continued on towards my destination. And I doubt he bothered to read it, but the action of making him take it was good enough for me.

When I returned to my office building, I had a plan to call for one of the guys from the office to meet me outside in case that clown was still hanging out there, but he had gone, thank god.

I am tired of being objectified by black men like this guy because we’re the same race. I never know which one will assume that my politeness is a green light for them to harass me. When that guy kept calling me a “beautiful black queen,” it didn’t make me feel beautiful. It made me feel singled out, awkward, and uncomfortable. A random man on the street calling me “beautiful” means nothing, but if it were to come from someone that I knew and had a relationship with, it would be of more value than gold.

But I pat myself on the back for giving that harasser a taste of his own medicine. You try to force your unwanted thoughts onto me, I’ll force my anti-street harassment views right back at you.

– Anonymous

Location: McPherson Square area (Washington, DC)

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A few weeks ago, I was returning to the office from hand-delivering a package to another office. As I walked down 6th Street N.W. near the Verizon Center, this guy saw me coming but was about to walk into me regardless. I yelled, “EXCUSE ME!” loudly and he stopped. Instead of being apologetic for almost walking into me, he tried to get close to me in an attempt to physically threaten me, called me a “bitch” and a “little girl,” and told me to “grow up.”

Even though I was on the clock, I wore nothing identifying myself as representing my employer, and I was not going to take his verbal abuse. I called him out on his attempt to walk into me, and called him a “punk” and “trash.” And of course during all this, people stand around and watch but do nothing to help. I walked away while he continued to yell and make threats to my back.

People are going to read this and react in the way they want. There will be those who will think that I brought it upon myself, and those who will think that I should’ve been quiet. And had I reacted in a quiet and docile manner, there would’ve been those who would’ve told me to speak up. In the end, I can’t react in the way that others want me to react. I can only react in the way that I felt was best for me at the moment, and I will continue to do such.

– Anonymous

Location: Washington, DC, on 6th Street N.W. between G and H Streets N.W.

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I was walking up the stairs in the metro station towards the exit. It was a busy station and the stairs were crowded. I was 22 and wearing tight jeans. A guy behind me put his hand between my legs, with the back of his hand against my crotch and slid it towards my bum. He did it so quickly, running up the stairs ahead of me, that I didn’t even have time to react. He turned his head towards me just before he got out of the stairs. I didn’t know how to respond so I just gave him a death stare. He said “What?” and walked off.

I remember feeling utterly disgusted and soiled by the gesture and scared that he could have done that in such a public space without anyone noticing or reacting. I was really shaken. But mostly I remember feeling angry and scared because I had been completely unable to react or to do anything about it. It was then that I got the idea to take self-defense lessons.

– Anonymous

Location: Paris, France

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I’m an English teacher in South Korea, so I’m part of the 1% of people in South Korea who are not Korean. I guess I stand out a little bit because of this. Sometimes it’s nice and people ignore me more, but other times they talk to me more.

One day I was walking home after a day of work and I was one block from my apartment. A white car drove by me and pulled up in front of my building. This is perfectly normal, there are restaurants in the bottom and many people who live inside. However the driver did not get out of the car.

As I am walking up the sidewalk I noticed a “baby on board” sticker. It makes the car seem a lot less threatening. As I started to walk past the car I heard a man say, “Hello,” out the window. So I looked over to acknowledge that I heard him before walking on by. However when I looked over I noticed that he was masturbating…

I probably made some kind of disgusted face, I don’t really remember, but I just walked quickly away and into my building. (I took the stairs in case he followed me inside to see what floor the elevator went to.)

I felt quite a bit scared after that. I’ve had people cat call me since I was 13 or so and while it’s annoying it’s bearable. This was not OK. Not at all. I remember I was wearing a skirt that day so my legs were showing from the knee down, nothing crazy but it made me question how I dress and if it’s OK. I don’t think I should have to worry about wearing skirts because some perverted people might do this to me.

I think the worst part was that “Baby on Board” sticker on the car. Because that man is obviously a father.

– AKH

Location: Dongtan, Gyeonggi-do, South Korea

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