Dear Man in the Blue Minivan,

Sometimes street harassment isn’t calling me ʺbaby,ʺ asking me to smile, or commenting on my outfit. Sometimes street harassment isn’t on the day when I wore a cute top and got attention, or when I am walking home late from a bar and my hair is tossed.

Sometimes, street harassment is in broad daylight, on my way to work, and not in the form of a ʺcompliment.ʺ

Today, street harassment was a man from the comfort of his car, waiting to turn on a walk signal, angrily yelling at me to ʺmove my fat ass along.ʺ

Sadly, I’ve grown fairly used to street harassment in my daily life; I’ve perfected the sunglasses-on, earbuds-in, ʺcan’t see, can’t hear youʺ technique. Granted, most of these harassers use words to get my attention disguised as a compliment, perhaps a chance to make me blush. I’ve never said anything or asked them to stop —

Sunglasses-on, earbuds-in.

But, today I wanted to say something. Not just because you degraded me with an asinine insult or because our interaction was within earshot of coworkers. Today is different because I’ve realized something. Thanks to you, I realized not one damn soul on earth has the right to talk about my body the way you just did.

Including myself.

I’ve struggled with body image issues most of my life. The words you threw at me are the same I’ve said quietly in my head, wishing my fat ass would just hurry along. I have belittled and disrespected myself in more ways than you ever could.

You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you that I hate intersection crosswalks. Seems unreasonable, right? But, I hate them. I abhor the feeling of a dozen cars lined up, fixing their gaze on the people walking through a crosswalk. I’ll get a flurry of thoughts all at once; is my skirt too short? Did I wear something too tight? Do I look too large? Can they all see me?

After years of growing stronger, learning to love myself and step broadly into the sun for all to see, you took a small sliver of that acquired love-of-self away from me. All at once, I became afraid of crosswalks again. Not because a car might hit me if I miss the light, but because your vulgar words made you feel empowered and stripped me of my confidence. I hate that I allowed you to make me feel that way and that you have managed to stain that area of the street with memories of your negligent and unnecessary pass of judgement.

To the woman on the sidewalk who said, ʺthat’s so rudeʺ and shook her head when he drove off, thank you. Your three simple words in solidarity were my saving grace and snap back to reality, that no one, not even myself, has the right to disrespect my body.

So, dear man in the blue minivan, I will use my body in the best way I know how — to share this story and inspire others to feel a little braver when they step into a crosswalk. To be what the woman on the sidewalk was to me: solidarity.

Sincerely,

Sara

Location: Washington, DC (intersection near Logan Circle)

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See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for more idea

My partner and I have been together for more than 12 years. For a number of reasons (including same-sex marriage now being legal across the USA) we did a civil service to legally marry earlier this month in Las Vegas, Nevada, while my partner was there on business. We got our license, walked a building over for a civil service ceremony and it was all done in an hour. Easy, low-cost.

My uncle lives in Las Vegas and after our ceremony (only attended by our witness, one of my cousins), my partner and I went to a grocery store to get food for dinner at his house. I didn’t wear a “wedding dress” but I was wearing a dress I bought for $25 at TJ Max.

We got back to the car and I had forgotten hummus. I went back inside alone.

On my way out of the store alone, two men told me I looked beautiful. It felt like the lead up to harassment but I thought, give them the benefit of the doubt, “you look beautiful” on it’s own isn’t really harassment (though since men don’t hear that as they walk around, it does reinforce sexism and that women’s value is our looks)… so I smiled and I said thanks… and they immediately launched into loud sexually explicit descriptions of my body as they disappeared into the grocery store. I cringed. I felt violated and dirty. And – because internalized victim blaming is hard to overcome – I thought, why didn’t I change out of my dress before walking around in public alone?

It upsets me that even on a day of happiness with my best friend, I could not escape street harassment. There is NO escape. I’m now in my 30s. I live in the suburbs and mostly work from home and mostly drive places. Compared to a decade ago, I can go days and sometimes weeks without facing street harassment. But there is still no way to permanently escape it. That makes me feel really angry, frustrated, and sometimes defeated.

This incident also reminded me that if it’s not blatant harassment at the onset, it’s hard to know how to deal with it, especially when you have 1 second to decide and can’t formulate a super clever retort. Should I have ignored them? Told them “that’s harassment” for simply saying I was beautiful? I doubt it would have mattered how I responded.

Ultimately it wasn’t about me, it was about them. They probably could care less how I felt or responded…. just like most harassers. They just felt entitled to my attention, my space, for their own reasons. And women are often raised to be polite, so we mostly put up with it, demure, deflect, appease, and avoid, especially when it starts off with something as seemingly innocent as “you look beautiful,” “what are you reading” or “what’s your name?”

This happened more than two weeks ago. I only decided now to write about it after reading this excellent Guardian article by Daisy Buchanan, “I’m tired of being kind to creepy men in order to stay safe.” This is an excerpt:

“We’ve all been bothered by persistent guys who pester us relentlessly, believing themselves to be entitled to our company and more. We’re under pressure to be polite and manage their expectations. Ignored men are angry men, and it’s horrible to sit silently while a man shouts at a packed carriage: “She thinks she’s too good to talk to me!”

When it comes to responding to harassers, you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t – and sometimes it gets to the point when dealing with entitled idiots is so exhausting that you feel safer staying at home…

The full article is worth a read.

This is my message to men: Please think twice before approaching a woman you don’t know in a public space. Think twice before you open your mouth. I don’t care if you’re not a harasser. Too many of you are and every woman has been harassed before. Unless she’s in danger or dropped something, just think twice about it. We don’t owe you our attention nor should we have to be polite to you even if we’ve and you’ve been raised to think that we should.

I’m a 17 year-old African-American girl, and I’ve never felt safe when in public on my own. Whether I’m on my way to work or headed downtown to hang out with friends, men feel the need to make remarks on how I look.

And it’s always older men. Men much older than me who make remarks on my appearance and call me beautiful and make me feel uncomfortable and vulnerable.

I used to think that maybe it ways the way I was dressing or how I did my hair that attracted all this unwanted attention. One day during summer, I was on my way to the public library to get some homework done. I stepped out of my house with my hair in a low pony-tail and a casual outfit, (leggings, oversized t-shirt, sneakers). Right away three men across the street had their eyes on me and watched me cross the street. One block away, an older man spotted me and said, ʺHey beautiful, how you doingʺ and on that same block another older man fixing his car looked me up and down and said, ʺHey how’s it going.ʺ As I entered the library another man yelled at me but I walked away quickly.

A few hours later, I started to head home. Crossing the street one man looked at me and told me I was a ʺblessed young ladyʺ and a construction worker got in my way just to say hello.

This is why I feel so unsafe when I go out alone. I always feel like people are watching me and I hate it. I just want to go outside and feel safe for once.

It’s not fair that at such a young age I’m scared to go out and enjoy a nice day because I’m worried about my well-being. But the sad reality is that I’m probably never going to feel safe when I’m out alone.

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

Security guards? They always make me feel safer

– Anonymous

Location: San Francisco, CA

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See the book 50 Stories about Stopping Street Harassers for more idea

It happens every day, between 5 to 20 times a day. On my very short way to the bakery I may be catcalled 6 times. Sometimes a man brushes past me, coming from behind, whispering things in my ear. I feel scared and angry, and anger is keeping me awake at night. I dream I fight and break every bone in his face.

One day I was walking down the street and a man from a car called me. I ignored him because I’ve tried everything and in the end I always get called names. He slowed down and started following me in his car. Another time I was walking and a group of men was coming from the opposite direction. It was too late (and not easy) to change pavements so I continued, trying not to walk too fast or too slow, eyes down. They circled me and walked with me for a hundred meters. I told them, ʺYou won, I’m scared, now can you leave me alone?ʺ they continued a little then left. Anger is piling up inside me.

Now a simple catcall fuels me up for the day and it takes longer and longer to calm down. It happens everywhere, whether in posh areas or in poorer neighborhoods. It happens whether they’re on the phone or with their kids in their arms. It happens whether they’re barely fourteen or in their fifties. I’ve learned to spot groups of men, change my itinerary, avoid certain places at certain times, walk with my hands free ʺjust in caseʺ.

I dream of telescopic sticks and pepper sprays and knives.

One day I was having a burger in my car, parked right in front of the restaurant. Two men parked next to me and started knocking on my window, asking me to lower it down. I didn’t move, they started hitting harder and harder.

There is just not ONE day that goes by without being harassed by men out there.

People ask me why I don’t get accompanied by a guy? Right, because obviously women are not allowed to be outside anymore?! One day (in broad daylight, please stop thinking this is about going out late and ʺtaking risksʺ (?!)) a man on a bicycle climbed on the pavement, stopped right in front of me, told the male friend with me to ʺf**k offʺ. Which he did. Nothing else happened but I was so scared, and I felt so powerless.

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

There should be a public statement made by the politics. Not once did they take the initiative to say ʺBelgium is a free country where both men and women have the same rights. If you can’t respect this principle, those values, measures will be taken.ʺ I’m afraid I’d also add: more cameras…

– Anonymous

Location: Brussels, Belgium

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

Today I was walking home from my future apartment at 4 p.m. It’s about a 25 minute walk and I was walking at a leisurely Sunday pace with no place to be. I noticed a car turn around and park in an odd spot near the beginning of my walk, took note of it, but I wasn’t feeling unsafe. I cut through the local park where some people were playing softball and kids were on the playground.

I turned on to my street and had about a 1/2 mile walk to go. I was texting my friend and noticed that there was a car parked on the side of the street, again I didn’t think anything of it but it looked similar to the one from the start of my walk. As I was walking past the car the man said something and I turned and looked to see his penis out and masturbating. I quickly averted my eyes and sped up but did not want him to know where I lived and thought it was too risky to turn around and snap a photo of the car.

I heard the car blast by me and up the street fast enough so that I could not take a photo or read the plate numbers. I immediately started crying and running towards my house. I felt violated and I ran into my house an took off my dress, put on gym shorts and a t-shirt and called my sister. For some reason I felt like I needed to take those clothes off to try and wipe my mind clean of the ordeal.

She told me to call the non–emergency line, which I did to report but I didn’t have much information. I hope that if he continues to do this someone will be quicker and take a photo so that this man can be stopped.

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

A tip line that people could text reporting street harassment, or a twitter/facebook feed that would alert people within an area of people that are harassing others so that we can be aware or even prepared.

– LB

Location: Brighton, MA

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