Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

“No black woman can walk down the street without getting harassed here”

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I have lots of experiences that constitute street harassment. I have to use public transportation, and all the bus stops available for me to use are good walks away from where I live, so I have to deal with being honked at as I walked down the street. This is a daily expectation. I will occasionally have some asshole yell at me from their cars.

There’s this one guy, I don’t know if he lives in the driveway I always find him in or not, but he’s taken to saying hello to me and I say hello back and then he tries to hit on me (asks me “Where your boyfriend at?”). The first time this happened and he asked me that question, I just immediately shut down communication and kept walking. The only reason it happened a second time is because as soon as I said hello, I realized that it was the same guy who bothered me the last time. I don’t know what he said to me after I said hello the second time, but I imagined it was similar to what happened the first time. This has only happened twice, but I’m scared this will happen every time I see this guy.

One of the most prolific harassment experiences I’ve ever had is a bit surprising because of the location it happened in. I currently live in Southeast Atlanta where it seems that harassing women on the street is a part of the culture down here, you know, no black woman can walk down the street without getting harassed here. We’re suppose to expect it down here. But this particular incident happened while I lived in the more affluent northern part of the city, where Buckhead and Sandy Springs are, and happened in an area where I didn’t have to expect harassment daily.

I was coming back home from a morning walk when this car actually pulled up beside me on the side walk, slowed down and rolled down the window and everything, and the guy in the car (I didn’t see him because I didn’t actually stop while this was happening) started trying to proposition me to do whatever with him or to talk to him or something. I was so scared and embarrassed that I just kept walking and never actually heard what he was asking. This was a car that had actually slowed down while I was walking back home before, but the person inside had never actually stopped and tried talking to me before.

I consider myself a sex positive person and sexually enlightened and all of that jazz, but when stuff like this happens it never ceases to be annoying and embarrassing. It’s one thing to be on the receiving end of sexualized attention that you actually want. But a completely different experience to be on the end of sexualized attention that you aren’t asking for or wanting. They’re not nearly the same thing or the same experience — sex is being used in one, abused in the other.

– Jaleesa

Location: Atlanta, GA

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A Jewish woman’s stories (part 3 of 3)

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I have had 3 unpleasant incidences of street harassment, and this was the latest and worst [read incidents 1 and 2].

I live in New Jersey and my boyfriend lives in Manhattan, and we only see each other on the weekends. We therefore try to squeeze in as much time together as possible, which frequently results in me waiting in Penn Station for a train late at night.

On this particular night, I was waiting at midnight on the top of the steps leading from a busy corridor into the NJ Transit concourse. I saw a black man in a black winter hat walking through the concourse below me, holding an open pack of Newport cigarettes. He got to me and offered me one. I turned him down. He then offered me a new MetroCard, still wrapped. Nonplussed, I told him that I already had one. He made some comment about my jeans which I didn’t catch, then tried to put his arm around my back, (a move which I can’t stand thanks to my first encounter with street harassment,) and I flinched away. He commented on it, and added, “You’re not PREJUDICED or anything, right? It’s not because I’m BLACK, is it?”

I replied, “No, I’m not prejudiced. I just really don’t like strangers touching me.”

He then got me to exchange names and shake hands (he’d made me feel like I had to prove that I wasn’t racist), held my hand too long, and said, “Your hand is cold.” I said, “I just came in from outside!” He then held my hand a second longer, let go, said, “Have a good night, baby,” and disappeared.

I felt hideously violated, even though all he’d done was touch my back and make comments. I felt like he hadn’t done anything that the police would act on, plus I wasn’t sure where the nearest police booth was, so I didn’t report it.

However, I started having massive anxiety attacks at the thought of being in Penn Station after 9 PM, which resulted in my spending an extra night with my boyfriend several times. It was weeks before I managed to face my fear and go back to my normal routine, and then it was only with the help of my boyfriend accompanying me to the station that I did so. I had the worst anxiety attack I’ve had in years the night my boyfriend accompanied me from his apartment at 10 PM, but I am now back to my regular routine. However, I now carry pepper spray, and I know the locations of the police booths around the NJ Transit area. (Ironically, I was only yards away from one, though that booth is not always occupied.)

I am furious – no man should ever have the power to make a woman afraid to do *anything!*

– HD

Location: Penn Station, NYC

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A Jewish woman’s stories (part 2 of 3)

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I am a religious Jew, and I have had three unpleasant incidences of street harassment. This is the second and the most bizarre one [here’s the first one].

I was sitting on the downtown 1, desperately hoping that it would get me to Penn Station in time to catch my train. I was dressed in a t-shirt and a long skirt that made it easy to pick me out as a religious Jew. A 40-ish ultra-Orthodox guy with a long beard got on the train, picked me out as a “member of the tribe,” and insisted that we converse only in Hebrew. That was weird, but whatever, I’ve had interesting Hebrew conversations with friendly strangers on mass transit before.

It’s a little hard to translate, but this is the gist. He started off by asking me if I knew of a women’s seminary in the area, especially one that did singles’ events. I wasn’t sure. He asked if I could suggest any particular religious woman, age 30-50. I couldn’t. We established that I was 22, and I gave him my Hebrew name, not my English one.

Then he kept going on about how he wasn’t trying to “start up with me,” (connotation: flirt with me,) that he was a sensitive soul looking for a good woman, it wasn’t about lust (pointing at his crotch), not like those young guys who go pick up women at (gasp!) the beach! Then he kept saying, “I have something to say to you. Do you have time?” I kept answering, “So say it. I’m stuck on this train for now.” Based on the rest of what he was saying, I think what he meant was that he wanted to _speak with me_, but he was using the wrong words. (Remember, this conversation was all in Hebrew.) In any case it was clear that he wanted me to leave the train with him and go chat under a light in the park or something. Not happening! At various points in the conversation, he got very offended and angry, to the point that he was scaring me.

I nearly missed my stop as he protested, “But I’m a sensitive soul! I’m religious! How could you suspect me?!” To my horror he too got out at Penn Station. I ran as fast as I could through the LIRR concourse up to the NJ Transit concourse and my train, and either I lost him or he was going elsewhere.

Had he followed me into the station I would’ve reported him, but since he didn’t, I didn’t think there was anything I could do about him. I was just thoroughly creeped out.

– HD

Location: New York City subway

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A Jewish woman’s stories (part 1 of 3)

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I am a religious Jew, and I have had several unfortunate experiences with street harassment. This is the first one.

After high school, I spent a year in Israel, on a program that combined Israeli National Service with Jewish seminary learning. In Israel, it is perfectly normal for young people to hitchhike, especially from a main road to an out-of-the-way town. The town where I lived was one such place, and I got fairly used to hitchhiking. One day I was coming home from a shopping trip, loaded with bags. An older man stopped for me, and since the back of his car was full of junk, I sat in the front. Big mistake. The ride to my part of town was only a few minutes, but he spent it trying to casually rest his arm around my back, while I tried to shrug it away. He kept telling me how there were great deals on clothes, including bras and underwear – especially fixating on the bras – in the market in Lod. I forget if it had come up in conversation or if it was because of my accented Hebrew, but he knew that I was American, and gave me his number, telling me to call him if I ever wanted to see the country and we could go to Tzfat or something – don’t worry, he wouldn’t hurt me! (Yeah, right.)

I went inside feeling creeped out and dirty. I never told anyone on my program what happened because I felt like it was my fault for sitting in the front seat – you’re not supposed to do that if you can avoid it, and any Israeli who hitchhikes regularly knows it; I thought my friends would laugh at me. It’s only in the past year that I’ve told anyone besides my psychologist and my boyfriend about this incident, and to this day I can’t stand being hugged from behind.

– HD

Location: Tzafaria, Israel

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“I’m a feminist activist, so whoever just touched my arse just made a really stupid mistake.”

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So, today I had a really good day. First, I see that the Welsh government are taking street harassment seriously in the fantastic “One Step Too Far” campaign. Then, I listen to Holly’s interview with Susan Bartelstone and felt even better: wow – people are starting to take this issue seriously! Then, having gone for a quick Friday afternoon drink with a colleague, I become depressed.

It’s my turn to get a drink, so I go to the bar to get a drink for me, my colleague and my boyfriend, who are enjoying the summer evening outside. Waiting at the bar, a guy in front of me who isn’t waiting to be served very politely moves aside for me to reach the bar. It becomes obvious that he is one of a group of four men hanging about the bar – he seems fine, and at least seems to possess some manners – but as I’m stood waiting to be served I feel a hand on my backside. I’m actually so shocked that I don’t move, I pretend I didn’t notice – because how the **** did that just happen?! Please tell me you didn’t just touch me because I’m a woman on my own at a bar?

Waiting for drinks, I can hear the guys behind me laughing about what they just did, whilst I formulate the ideal response. I try to be cool, and when I’ve paid and am heading away from the bar, I say “I’m a feminist activist, so whoever just touched my arse just made a really stupid mistake.”

I have NEVER seen such horrified expressions as I did on these guys – complete dismay and horror that a women had called them out on their actions. I walked away casually back to my boyfriend and friend. Ten minutes later, the politer of the bunch who had moved from the bar for me comes to ‘apologise’ for his idiotic friends. Reasonably nice guy, but why are you apologising for your friends? I reiterated that I don’t appreciate that kind of attention and it is unacceptable; he again apologised. Fair enough – maybe this affected these guys and made them think that this isn’t a good way to behave, but then: why the hell am I telling grown men how to behave?! Can you not see that this isn’t normal?

My one regret: I didn’t make a bigger scene and take a snap for hollaback. I wish I could think quicker.

– Jen

Location: The Friend at Hand pub, Bloomsbury, London

Share your street harassment story today and help raise awareness about the problem. Include your location and it will be added to the Street Harassment Map.

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