Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

“I know they knew their actions were wrong”

By

A little less than a year ago, I was walking down a trail during my break from work. I just wanted some peace and quiet away from the stress of my job, and a walk outside usually helps. As I walked the trail, two men who were old enough to be parents of mine were sitting on a bench, and they called out to me. I ignored them, as I just wanted some peace. They continued trying to call out to me, get my attention, and insist that I “spend time” with them.

When it became obvious that I wouldn’t respond, they got annoyed and made some comment like, “She must be deaf as well.” This really annoyed me for two reasons: one, that they refused to acknowledge that it was their rudeness that was making me ignore them and two, that they were fine with outright stating I was not the first person they’ve tried this with.

I gave them the finger, which caused them to start laughing and actually applauding me for being so bold. Even though I’m glad I did something, I still felt upset that nothing I did would deter them from doing it to another person. And I know they knew their actions were wrong – they were old enough to be my fathers, and I’m not exactly a teenager anymore – they just didn’t care. They never do.

– Anonymous

Location: On a trail in Newmarket, Canada

Need support? Call the toll-free National Street Harassment hotline: 855-897-5910

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for ideas.

Share

I’ve Gotten Used To the Harassment

By

Guest Post for International Anti-Street Harassment Week

By: Araceli Cruz

The author as a child.

I remember the heat. I, a 9-year-old child, played alone on the beach. The sun was brutal that afternoon but I didn’t mind one bit. You see, I was on vacation — and I believe that trip was one of the last times that my entire family traveled together to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. As I sat on the shore covering myself with sand, a wave pulled me into the ocean. I quickly got myself up but felt disoriented because the salty seawater blurred my vision. I then realized I couldn’t walk. I felt a strong hold on my leg. I looked down to see what was preventing me from moving — it was a man. I remember looking down at him as the small waves came over him. He continued to grasp at my legs and I remained motionless. The next thing I see is my mother running over to me. She began to smack him on his head and arms until he let go of me. In retrospect I think this man could have been drunk, but this would become the first time a man not only harassed me but also touched me without consent.

Growing up, I viewed getting catcalled as a way of life. “Latinas get harassed, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” was like a slogan that my parents ingrained in my head without having to say it. I understood very quickly that I could not wear anything too revealing because that meant “I was asking for it.”

The author with her sister

My older sister, however, wouldn’t take the barrage of sexual come-ons. She fought back, regardless of who won. I remember one day, in particular, we were walking down the street in San Francisco near the Mission District, and a man passed us and whispered to us in Spanish “Oh my god.” My sister turned around and yelled at him (so loud that others on the street turned out) “Yes, it is god that I pray would make you more attractive!!!” I realize this comeback is humorous and sort of ridiculous, but it’s rare to not only fire back at a call, but say something that makes you feel better.

My boiling point came years later when I lived in New York City. On a freezing morning in February, I walked down a snow-covered street in Astoria wearing a huge puffy jacket that basically covered me from head to toe. Two men in a truck stuck their heads out the window and began hurling catcalls at me, and I remember thinking, “How can they tell I am even a woman?” I realized then that it didn’t matter if I wore a strapless top, a puffy jacket, or even take the long way home to avoid men on street corners — there’ll always be some men that cannot help but make unwarranted comments.

It’s an ongoing issue that won’t go away regardless of if I say “f**k you” to their face or even call the police after getting hit in the head. I wish there were precaution I could take to prevent harassment, but mostly I will remain vigilant.

Araceli Cruz is a freelance journalist living in Hillsborough, North Carolina. She’s covered Latinx topics at Mitú and Vivala, and has written for publications such as The Village Voice, GOOD Magazine, and Rolling Stone, among others. Follow her on Twitter: @chelipj

Share

USA: How Does Street Harassment Change Your Daily Behavior?

By

Libby Allnatt, Phoenix, AZ, USA, SSH Blog Correspondent

There’s nothing quite like wearing an outfit again for the first time after you were catcalled while wearing it. While street harassment is obviously not about clothing (if it was then women wearing modest or traditionally “unsexy” clothing wouldn’t get harassed, and they do), it can be easy to attach feelings of violation and disgust to the shorts or a top or skirt or dress you were wearing when someone decided to encroach upon your safety and rights as a human.

It can also be difficult to return to places where one was once harassed. That street, that intersection, that park will always be filled with the voices of the ill-mannered, the sexist, and the violent that not-so-silently dot our neighborhoods.

According to Stop Street Harassment’s 2014 statistically significant national survey, street harassment caused 47 percent of women to constantly assess their surroundings. Four percent of all harassment victims made bigger decisions as a result of harassment, like moving neighborhoods or quitting a job.

An informal study by Cornell University and Hollaback! showed that 85 percent of women have taken a different route, 73 percent of women took different forms of transportation, and 70 percent avoid going out at night, all to avoid street harassment.

I personally know how taking public transportation in my city is more arduous than just buying a ticket and hopping on the train. I avoid it if I can, avoid taking it at night, and stare out the window in silence praying that no one speaks to me. I tug my skirt down to cover my legs and clutch my keys. I avoid the bus altogether because of what I’ve heard happen to my peers on there.

What makes me the saddest is the look of panic I see in others’ eyes when a girl says she’s walking home. “Text me as soon as you get there,” they plead, horrific possibilities on everyone’s minds but left unsaid.

“I wanted to go, but I also didn’t want to walk home that late,” is another frequent statement I commonly hear (and say myself) when women are discussing why they avoided a particular event or outing.

Male friends of mine have offered to walk me places at night if they know I’m going somewhere on my own. I always decline, and I’m both reassured by their willingness to help and sad because this is our reality.

Street harassment has emotional and psychological damage, as sexualization of girls and women can lead to depression, anxiety and eating disorders. It makes leaving our homes feel less safe.

Anyone who has been harassed and gone home shaking knows this feeling. Anyone who been harassed on the way to work or school and has to shake it off and act like they didn’t just feel scared for their lives knows this feeling.

Because it’s never just a catcall. It always has the potential to escalate to something much worse, because it has.

My female friends and I adorn our keychains with colorful and sparkly pepper spray, as we try and pretend they’re accessories rather than self-defense weapons. Much to the dismay of my loved ones, I often leave my pepper spray at home. A part of me doesn’t want to admit that we need to be armed to move about in public spaces lest we become another victim, another statistic.

Surely many men often feel frightened at night as well. Many forms of crime, like robbery and assault, don’t discriminate based on gender. But the reality is that sexually-charged threats to bodily autonomy are a different animal to navigate, and usually reserved for women. I don’t know many men who tremble when they hear a shout on their walk home. I don’t know many men who grip their keys between their fingers, trying to determine if they would be capable of gashing out the eyes of someone twice their size if they had to. I don’t many men who alter their daily lives because catcalls, gropes, stalking, and rape are genuine possibilities.

While caution should not be thrown to the wind (I will continue to get the hell out a place where someone is making me feel uncomfortable, and perhaps I will swallow my pride and start carrying my pepper spray), I feel disgusted at a world where women have any burden to bear that men do not.

The other day, I returned to a spot where I was harassed that I had been avoiding for some time. I sat. I took up space. I enjoyed the world around me – the air, the sky, the birds, the city. I won’t let harassers keep me inside, and you shouldn’t either.

Libby is a student at Arizona State University. Originally from Salt Lake City, Utah, she is majoring in journalism with a focus on print and she is minoring in psychology and women’s studies. You can follow her on Twitter @libbyallnattasu and Instagram @LibbyPaigeA.

Share

“Look at this fine piece right here”

By

Today was not the first time I’ve had to endured catcalls during the day. Once a guy yelled from his passing car, “I’d pay for it!”

Another time, a guy stepped in my path to shout, “Look at this fine piece right here.”

Some men have made catcalls to me while I was in the passenger side of my sister’s car.

A drunk guy on a bus full of people told me that my lips were beautiful, that I looked like I had soft hands and he started grabbing my hands.

However, today was one of the most embarrassing moments I’ve endured. I was walking up Warren Road toward Downtown Lakewood. I got to a section near Madison Ave. where cars start to line up as they wait for a series of traffics and stop signs. I was dressed warmly with a fleece jacket, thick scarf and sunglasses. Suddenly I began to hone in on the yelling, whistling, and howling slurs from a red SUV as it curved the street. “…you sexy bitch.”

I yelled back for him to F&%$ Off and die. As I continued walking the curve, I was in his sights again. He continued with, “Put you in some designers, Mmm,” I retorted that I hoped he dies in a fiery car crash then flipped him off. He continued to yell more things and laughed, but most of it was muffled by my scarf being close to my ears.

Before the car went down another curve in the street he shouted more inaudible words that ended with him yelling “…Bitch!” The street still continued with the line of bumper to bumper traffic, the whole line of cars were stopped. I started to walk slower in the hopes that I wouldn’t catch up again. I was angry and embarrassed, but I held back my emotion while I reached for my pocket knife for comfort. The worst part was that he was the passenger, meaning the driver was okay with what he was doing in their car. I wonder if any of the other drivers notice or cared. There were about 30 cars in the line. When I came past the next curve, the SUV was gone. I had to keep walking to Panera while feeling the way I felt. An hour later I was still upset and returned home. My sunny day was ruined.

Optional: What’s one way you think we can make public places safer for everyone?

I’m not sure. I wish I had thought to write down the license plate so I could file a harassment charge at the Lakewood Police Department. Maybe they would get a ticket.

– Alexandria DeJesus

Location: Lakewood, OH, U.S.

Need support? Call the toll-free National Street Harassment hotline: 855-897-5910

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for ideas.

Share

“I never realized how scared women get when this happens”

By

Last week I drove from the Hague to Rotterdam. On the highway, I passed a man in a car, just a car from me. The man increased speed and drove next to me. After that, he followed me around into the city. I tried shaking him by pretending to take another road, but he kept following me. After a while I stopped when I saw a group of people, got out of my car and joined them, and that made him leave. I shared the whole story with those strangers and they were shocked. One man said, “I never realized how scared women get when this happens.”

Optional: What’s one way you think we can make public places safer for everyone?

It can’t. There needs to be a change in social awareness. Stop devaluing what happens, talk about it and encourage your government to make this a legal issue.

– NN

Location: Rotterdam, Holland

Need support? Call the toll-free National Street Harassment hotline: 855-897-5910

Share your street harassment story for the blog.
See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for ideas.

Share