I am 20 years old, and when I walk down the street and I am wearing a nice dress, nothing too provocative, but just a simple dress, I get whistles, people address me as baby, and people yell things at me from their cars or honk when i pass, which is very embarrassing when I am with a friend or when anyone I know is watching me.

It makes me almost paranoid to walk down the street with someone because I know I am going to get a catcall or yells from someone in their cars or passing by and it is humiliating.

The only other thing i can do is put a paper bag over my head and my bottom. Because this happens everyday, it’s just when i wear a dress it happens more frequently and ostentatiously.

This guy was whistling at me over and over and i chose to ignore it until a guy walking by said, “Hey! You know he’s whistling at you, right?”

I can’t avoid it even if i want to.

I’ve heard comments like “You can ride on the handlebars of my bike if you want” and when i am just waiting for the bus a guy comes up and says, “Hey this describes you” showing me a perfume for “hot women” and i try to ignore them but then they say i am mean.

I walk to my house and a mailman gets out of his delivery truck and yells at me, “Hey baby!” and I say leave me alone and he continues to harass me until I walk away more quickly. I think it’s degrading and i want it to stop. If someone thinks I am attractive they can stop and talk to me politely but whistling, harassment, and referring to me as “baby” are not polite and they are not compliments.

It’s not that I don’t feel safe physically, it’s just i don’t feel safe mentally, or emotionally. I don’t feel safe to walk down the street in not even heels, but wedges, because guys pass by me really close and mutter incoherently, and I get whistles from cars, and it is agony. This shouldn’t be happening.

– Anonymous

Location: Miami, FL

I am a young Moroccan woman who lives in North America. I recently traveled to Morocco and wore conservative clothes (traditional long and large jellaba). I was not covering my hair most of the time. I am pretty but nothing extraordinary and I do look Arab.

This was the first time I was traveling alone in Morocco and I left this country feeling sick and exhausted because of the constant harassment. I started to avoid leaving my hotel room and got some symptoms of panic attacks at the idea of going back in some souks or streets where I had reacted to being harassed.

Men would follow me, every minutes men would say to me, “Ca va? or whisper to me things that I could not always understand. I was particularly distressed by cars or vans following me then stopping and men inside inviting me to join them in their cars.

One time, I was so distressed by these cars following me that i shouted in English to one driver, “I will call the police if you don’t stop that.” He got scared and went away but I was left feeling miserable, afraid and stressed.

I felt rage when I saw men in uniforms (gardeners in parks, men working at gas stations, workers) talking to me as well even though I did not ask them anything. They would say in Arabic things like, “So what do you want?”

Many times I wanted to cry when I would go in souks and see virtually all the men staring at me with their eyes wide open and no shame at all.

One time, a man jumped from a taxi to talk to me. He had been following me in the taxi.

Going out was too uncomfortable and draining so I stopped going alone outside.

When I was back in North America, I felt a wonderful sense of relief and understood how affected I had been by all this harassment. One month after the trip, I was still thinking about it. I do believe that it was a traumatic experience.

I went back to Morocco to reconnect with my roots and was so proud of my heritage but I have to say that I left with rage, fear and stress inside me. The saddest part is that I am no longer particularly proud to be Moroccan as I felt that streets were a savage environments for women.

It made me think as well about the fact that this harassment is coming form a population who is deeply religious, Muslim. It did really affect me on many level and I want to define myself as a North American from now on. I don’t anymore recognize my values of respect, honesty, kindness in Morocco. Sad trip.

– Anonymous

Location: Morocco, big and small towns

I was quite young, perhaps around 7 or 8 years old (not entirely sure). My parents and I had gone to a famous temple in South India (could have been Guruvayur, or possibly Tirupati). There were throngs of people in the temple, as it was during some festival or other. We were all waiting for the sanctum to be opened, I guess, and the moment the priests opened the doors, there was a great surge of people moving forward and I got separated from my parents by a middle-aged man wearing the garb of a devotee who came between me and them. He got his hand between my legs and squeezed painfully, all the while chanting the praise of God, pretending that he wasn’t doing what he was doing. I didn’t like it but I didn’t know why, and I couldn’t squirm away because I was hemmed in.

Finally I cried out for my dad, partly because I was afraid of being lost and partly because I thought it would make the man stop – and luckily it did. I didn’t tell my parents anything because I didn’t know how to express it, because I was afraid I’d done something wrong… even when I didn’t know what that wrong was. I think that was the point that I began to dislike going to the temple, and being in a crowd with men.

– Shammi Edwards

Location: South India

 

As soon as I got on this bus I could see this guy on the bottom deck leering and looking me up and down as I walked past him to sit at the back. I figured I was only going a very short way so wouldn’t sit elsewhere just to avoid him, but in that short time he continually craned his neck round to stare and leer at me, wanting me to know exactly what he was doing and enjoying making me feel uncomfortable.

When I had to get off I said as I walked past, “When you stare at women like that it makes you look like a creep.” I was expecting him to be abusive back (he had that aura about him where you can usually predict it), but it was still surprising how angry he instantly got. These are the bits of his speech that I can remember (there was much more…): “I wasn’t fucking looking at you – I was looking at her [indicating a girl sat directly behind him and out of his line of vision]. You’re fucking butter! [whatever THAT means] Fucking four eyes – you think it’s Halloween or something? [whilst I used to hear this line when I was a teenage goth, I think it’s the first time I’ve had it simply for having glasses!] You’re fucking butter! Think I’d look at you? Ugh!”

I laughed at his Halloween comment, told him whoever he was looking at he was still a creep (notice he didn’t even deny gawping at women), and loudly told him to “Stop harassing women” as I stepped off the bus and walked away. The bus would usually come past me to its next stop, but it didn’t, so I wonder if the driver was remonstrating with him for his pleasant little outburst. I don’t know – I didn’t look back 🙂

Less than a minute after I’d got off the bus. I picked up an Evening Standard and one of the main stories in there was about the rapper Dappy spitting and swearnig at two girls when they ignored his advances (for which he was in court). This behaviour is so common, it’s almost a cliche.

Did I have to say anything? No. But I am getting sick to death of being intimidated in my daily life by people like this. I was catching the bus after leaving the gym – I go to a women-only gym that’s not in the most convenient of locations anyway, rather than exercise outdoors or in a mixed gym, and I refuse to feel like I also can’t do that because of these creeps.

– Jen

Location: London, 38 bus to Victoria

I was on the LIRR train going home from work and started to fall asleep while reading. A huge guy sat across from me but I didn’t really think anything of it since there was another guy sitting two seats away from me. I mean, what could possibly happen out in the open with people around?

The guy started bumping his foot into mine, which I moved twice away from him. Then he reached down to presumably tie his shoe and he “accidentally” brushed his fingers against my shin (I was wearing a dress)… I got mad and started to move like I was going to get off the train. Then the coward suddenly bolted and got off the train before I could make my next move.

Infuriating! Especially since I am a health professional and was working on something related to my career— it seems some creeps treat all women with disrespect.

– Leia

Location: LIRR train leaving Penn Station