Last night at around midnight I was driving home and my petrol light came on. I knew I wouldn’t have enough gas to make it all the way home so I had to stop in at a 24 hour gas station.

I get there and there are two car loads of drunk guys. I didn’t really notice they were talking to me till one smart guy calls out, “That’s a nice rectum you have there!”

I turned around mulling over potential responses, decided to go with a grimace and a brisk walk back to my car. They continued to call after me, remarks like, “Naw don’t be shy!”

I felt so unsafe!

– Anonymous

Location: Auckland, New Zealand

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Think street harassment only happens to hot, young women? Think again. I admit it has been awhile. I was thinking about what I was going to write about today. Then I went into a retail chain store during my morning round of errands so I was more or less off the street. I was wearing a cozy, soft faux-fur jacket. I felt a hand on my back. I turned. It was one of the clerks, a very young man. “Sorry,” he said, “your coat looked so nice, I just wanted to see what it feels like.”

I doubt he would have done that to a guy, even in a faux fur. I was a actually more amused than insulted, but I said, “You know, you could have asked. Some women might have been very offended. You need to be aware that technically what you just did was assault and battery!”

He apologized.

– MJS

Location: Inside a store

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Editor’s Note: This email was sent to SSH and the author gave me permission to print it on the blog in the hopes of bringing more attention to the problem of harassment at clubs and to call out the Vodka Revolution Bar in Brighton, UK.

I am a student of Kings College London studying for a Masters Degree in Medical Ethics and Law and I am emailing to see whether it would be of interest to you to write a report regarding the sexism, shown by police, male club goers and bouncers, towards girls in the Brighton club scene.

On Sunday 15th January at around 1 a.m., I was assaulted in the Vodka Revolution Bar on West Street. A man (who I had never spoken with, seen, or even made eye contact with) grabbed me by the neck as I was attempting to make my way out of the club. Perhaps this was some strange attempt to kiss me. Naturally, I pushed him back and asked him what he was doing, he then began shouting in my face. I was obviously shocked by this and looked around to see if anyone else had seen this and could help, two men stood next to him also shouting at me. The first guy hit me over the head and I walked away (after having a good shout!).

My friend and I went away to find a bouncer, and reported this incident to him. He asked me to point out the guy, which I did. The bouncer said that he would go and speak to him, so I waiting by the stairs with my friend, Katie. After 10-15 minutes, the bouncer returned, fresh drink in hand, and informed me that the man had told him that he “didn’t know what he was talking about”. To which I pointed out that “of course he would say that…”. The bouncer said that as he did not witness the incident, there was not much that could be done.

I told the bouncer that I wanted to report this incident to the police, he went away and fetched them and lead me towards the fire exit where they were waiting. I told one of the policeman exactly what happened, and he suggest that as my friend and I are “both pretty girls” we pretty much had to expect this sort of this. He mentioned the “pretty girls” comment a few times before I calmly accused him of being sexist and suggested to him that the fact that I am wearing a dress and have gone to a club does not give a man license to grab me, hit me and scream in my face. I then told him that if I had gone out in jeans in the middle of the day and this had happened to me, this may have ben treated very differently.

The officer took my details, as did one of the bouncers. Another police officer imerged and said that they were now going to kick the guy out – although I did not see this happen and it did not look as if they were going to. The officers stood around under the stairs just so that it looked like they were going to do something. The bouncers also told me that they would look at the CCTV and call me. My friend and I got our coats and left through the fire exit.

Today I have called the club and spoken with the manager who says that no one had logged this. No one would have contacted me. No one looked at the CCTV. This afternoon, the manager has looked for this incident on the CCTV and said that as the cameras are in a bad position, he would not be able to see anything. Not good enough.

I was not drunk, although I had had a couple of drinks. I was wearing a short black dress. Where I am and what I am wearing should not give drunken men license to assault me, it should not give bouncers license to ignore me, and it should not give police officers license to blame me for the way I present myself. I thought that we were passed this – apparenty not.

This story may not be of interest to you, but on behalf of all the girls who have to put up with this sort of sexism every night I felt that I should say my piece.

Thank you for taking the time to read my email.
Kind Regards,
Sophie Calas

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I had basically had an awful day at one of my part-time jobs. I was tired, sore, and basically spent the past hour choking back tears from how tired I was, and how badly I had been treated at work.

I was catching the last train that was running that evening. I was sitting on the platform, holding my knees and not talking to anyone. I was staring at the wall. I was wearing a black t-shirt and knee length black shorts. I had no make up on, I was caked in dirt and sweat, and my legs were bruised, evidence of my backbreaking day.

Well, evidently I was still attractive to a drunk man who was catching the train home with his friends. He was a good thirty years older than me, twice my size and reeking of bourbon.

“Hey! Hey there! Girl!”

I thought he wasn’t talking to me. I was tuning out everything going on. I was just so desperate to get home.

“Hey. Hey.”

He was standing right next to me. I was already so overwhelmed from my day, I didn’t understand what was going on. I look up at him. He was standing very close to me, close enough that one of his knees was brushing against my arm.

“Hey girl! I like your pig tails! That’s so cute! What’s your name? Where do you live?”

After a day of being yelled at, hurt by boxes, sprayed by hoses, injured by ladders, disrespected by bosses and talked down to by customers I. FUCKING. LOST. IT.

I immediately burst into a shock of hysterical tears. I let out this horrible noise and got to my feet immediately.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Why are you crying? I just – ”

“Why are you doing this?! Why are you bothering me? I am tired, I am sore, and I am fucking over it!” I yelled at him. “Can’t you see I’ve had a horrible day? Why can’t you people just leave me alone? I’m not here to talk to! I never gave any indication I wanted to talk to you! Just go away! Just leave me alone! GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY WHY AREN’T YOU GOING AWAY JUST GO AWAY!”

He stumbled back to his friends, looking more frightened than I have ever seen a grown man look. As soon as he was a few feet away, I immediately stopped crying, went back to my sitting position and tucked my face into my knees.

I half expected him and his friends to jeer at me and carry on, but they were all deathly silent. Even when the train came, they sat down (a good row and half away from me) and as I left. Not a single word.

I felt much better afterward, to be honest.

– Anna

Location: Perth, Washington

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This incident of street harassment happened at about 8 in the morning on public transit. I was with my partner, a trans-woman (I’m a ciswoman). We had stopped at a coffee shop while waiting for the bus. We sat at the coffee bar at the window. While we were drinking our coffee, this man who was obviously high on some sort of drug, started pointing and waving, trying to get our attention. We ignored him, finished our coffee and caught the bus. We sat near the back. The man who had been gawking got on the bus and sat across from us. He immediately tried to engage us in conversation.

“Hey, I’ve seen you two around,” he slurred. “What’s up?”

We answered in monosyllables, trying to subtly let him know that we weren’t interested in talking.

He kept at it, talking, trying to introduce himself. We kept trying to politely give him the brush-off. Finally, he reached over and touched my leg (I was wearing patterned tights and a knee-length skirt). My partner and I both assertively told him to back off and keep his hands to himself. He laughed and reached over and touched my leg again. I pushed his hand away and reached for my umbrella. “Look buddy, I have a big stick here and I know how to use it. So back the hell off,” I said.

He leaned back in his seat and laughed. “It’s ok,” he said. “I don’t judge you guys.”

– Margaret

Location: Vancouver, BC, Canada

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