Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming
HollaBack is partnering with a group called METRAC to do a survey on street harassment. They are hoping to use the results to build an iPhone app in their hometown of Toronto, Canada.
Please take the survey! Thanks
Some good new to share for a change:
I’ve lived in DC for the past 4 years, and have posted here many times about what horrifying, vulgar and threatening street harassment I’ve encountered in our nation’s capitol. At the end of August I posted about my experience being attacked and sexually violated by a man in Columbia Heights.
The experience, especially after 4 years of extreme harassment, left me feeling exhausted and terribly vulnerable. I had just been accepted into a program where I’d be teaching English in Madrid, Spain for 3 months, and I felt terrified at the idea of going to a foreign country as a female alone after everything I’d experienced in DC.
Well, I’ve been here in Madrid for exactly one month now, and I’m happy to report that I haven’t had ONE SINGLE PROBLEM since arriving in Spain. I walk all over town every single day, and I’ve yet to hear a harassing word or sound uttered at me, nor have I received a single leering look! If the men here are admiring me, they are being utterly respectful and classy about it. I feel remarkably safe, and have even had a few men that I’ve met through meetup groups offer to walk me to the metro if it’s late at the end of the night, just to ensure that I am safe.
I can’t express how relieved I feel. The idea of returning to the exhausting world of DC street harassment upon my completion of this program is off-putting indeed.
I just thought it deserved noting that in Madrid, Spain, then men are actually NOT behaving like depraved animals toward lone women on the streets. DC could learn a little something from this city, and from this culture.
– B.
Location: Madrid, Spain
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.
I’m in graduate school and am 30 years old. I wore the knee-high, black sweet boots with a chunky heel (my mother’s) to school last week with a sundress and black suit jacket over it. As I was walking home, the following exchange occurred:
Man working on the street: “[KISS NOISE] Hello!”
Me: “Did you just make a kiss noise at me?”
Man: “No.”
Me: “OK. Good. Just checking.”
And I walked on by, not missing a beat. For the first time.
Was it the boots? I should really have a talk with my sixty-three-year-old mother about her slutty boots that communicate a desire for sexual advances from strangers (as if that would grant permission). I should have a talking-to with that suit jacket, too.
– Rachel
Location: New Haven, CT
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.
Trigger Warning
This isn’t a street harassment story, but rather a story of harassment in a bar. Still, I think it is relevant to the message of this blog, so I’m writing it.
The other night, I was out for drinks with a girlfriend. We were in a nice little jazz bar having a glass of wine. We were talking, laughing and enjoying ourselves when a man approached and started some fun, flirtatious banter with us. He invited us to sit with him and his friend, and we agreed.
My friend started talking to his friend, and they seemed to hit it off. I struck up a conversation with the guy, Shawn. He seemed nice for about five minutes, although he was a little more touchy than I was comfortable with.
He asked me how old I thought he was.
“30.” I replied. He looked surprised. “35?” I asked.
“That wasn’t very nice,” he said.
“Well,” I said, smiling. “I suppose I’m not a nice girl.”
“Watch it,” he said. “I could choke you without even trying.”
I was shocked. My history involves an abusive relationship in which choking was a regular part of our fights. In that relationship, I feared for my life. I still feel grateful for having survived. I felt myself shake with rage and sadness, feeling violated at being threatened and at the same time angry that this jerk could remind me of my painful past when I was out with a friend trying to socialize, relax and enjoy myself like a normal person.
I got up and walked away from the table, stopping briefly to tell my friend that I didn’t want to sit with him anymore. She moved over and let me sit next to her.
Shawn leaned over and asked my friend, as if I wasn’t there, why on earth I would be offended by his ‘joke.’ I told him off, saying that it is in no way funny to threaten someone. My friend backed me up, giving him a lecture on how to have respect for women. I told him, firmly, that I am a person and deserve to be treated like a person, with respect and dignity.
He got up and proceeded to lean in and maul me with his face and hands. My fighting instincts kicked in and I stood up, pushing him away. “Get the fuck away from me!” I screamed. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
“What the fuck,” he slurred. “I was trying to apologize.”
“Oh, that’s how you apologize? By invading someone’s space? That’s acceptable behavior to you?” I was shouting at this point, and I really didn’t care.
“She never says fuck,” my friend said. “See? You obviously don’t have a clue.”
“Well, whatever, it was a joke,” he said, coming in again to touch me.
This time, I pushed him against the bar. I’m tougher than I look, you see.
“Keep your fucking hands off of me!” I screamed. He shook his head and went back to his table. My friend and I found another table where we finished our wine and paid our tab.
I was furious for the rest of the evening. I am so sick of misogyny. I am so sick of entitled assholes thinking they can speak to me any way they want and that I should endure their threats and the humiliation of being manhandled for their entertainment. Is it too much to expect common courtesy in bars and pubs?
– Margaret
Location: Vancouver, BC
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.
I put the little black dress to an unscientific test the other weekend. The verdict: It really does appeal to everyone, for better, or in this case, for worse.
First, there was the guy next to me at self-checkout at CVS, who couldn’t resist telling me how beautiful I was. Isn’t the whole point of self-checkout that I don’t have to talk to anyone? Then there was the guy on the bus. I felt his eyes on me the entire 20-minute ride, so it must have really been a relief for him to get his feelings for me off his chest as he got off the bus. Gross.
Then there was the wrong turn I made, while trying to meet my friends at a Columbia Heights restaurant. It’s like they lined that street with men who were just waiting for prey. A couple of calls about “Mama,” and my little black dress and I reversed directions. I was carrying my heels in my purse, a decision I made to save my feet, but later became helpful in allowing me to move quickly.
Dinner with my friends was without incident. The little black dress and I were safe in the restaurant, as far as I could tell. But then the dress and I took to the streets, accompanied by four other girls in little black dresses and one man. We think: strength in numbers. Street harassers think: a whole group of easy targets, conveniently together for our harassing pleasure!
We walked from Lamont and Mount Pleasant to roughly 16th and Harvard — maybe a 10-minute walk — and spent more time deflecting harassment than enjoying each others’ company. And deflect, we did. I wouldn’t say our responses were particularly poetic, and certainly not profound, but hey: It didn’t take much to top our harassers.
A close friend once taught me the high-pitched EWWWWWWWW. I found that to be extremely effective. The men looked startled when faced with such a rejection. One of my other friends basically told them where to stick it, and we also cut them off with hand gestures and shouts even before they started hollering. We were fearless, loud and determined. It was awesome.
Long-term effects of our fighting back seem limited as far as changing these men’s behavior. Although the surprise on their faces was encouraging, I’m sure they’re out there now, harassing someone else, and that someone may not have the benefit of being surrounded by strong women who will help her fight back.
But fighting back did something for me and my friends. It reminded us of what we can accomplish together and why we’ll keep on fighting. And why no street harassers will make me hang up my little black dress. Instead, I want it to serve as a warning sign to men: Don’t MESS with me.
– Elizabeth Owens
Location: Washington, D.C.
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.