Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

“It makes me so angry that I should be made to feel scared walking 2 blocks home”

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Walking home from an evening out last night with a friend, two guys leaning against a car outside a bar, one made some comment like “mmm” i turned around and said ‘excuse me?’ He looked away embarrassed.

After I said goodbye to my friend at her flat I continued towards mine, now on a pretty dark and deserted street there was a guy just ahead of me on the pavement and as I approached him he said, “Hi beautiful thing, do you want to come upstairs with me?”

Now on my own I was wary to say anything back to him, so turned after I had passed him and gave him the dirtiest look I could. After that I kept checking behind me to be sure he wasn’t following me. It makes me so angry that I should be made to feel scared walking two blocks home on my own in the evening.

One other experience sticks in my mind – A few years ago in the metro with a girlfriend on our way out we crossed paths with two guys as we were walking through a tunnel to our next metro connection. They started whistling and making comments to us as we approached them. We ignored them as we walked past them, and one of them got angry and spat at us, a huge glob of spit ran down my friends back, absolutely disgusting, and we had just tried to ignore them.

– Bee

Location: Paris, France

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European Harassment

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I studied abroad in Paris for a semester, and I was shocked by the amount of harassment I experienced. I’m from a major U.S city, and i have never been treated like this until I lived in Europe. Riding the metro every day to school meant that men would follow me, try to kiss me, grab my ass, or just verbally harass me. I’ve very very fair and blonde so I don’t look very French, so people always asked me where I came from…I soon learned that pretending to speak neither French nor English really helped. I always said that I was Russian (which they believed) and that I only spoke Russian. That certainly shut them up quickly.

I never had any problems in London or Dublin, but Brussles, Paris, and any Italian city (even the Vatican of all places) were prime sources for lewd comments and whistles. The most shocking form of harassment was in Marrakech where my super white skin and platinum blonde hair stuck out like a sore thumb. Men constantly catcalled and finally one man came up to me and just started fondling my boob. I finally just pushed him off and ran away.

– anonymous

Location: Paris, France

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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He "only" wanted to follow her

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I was walking back home one night, in my lovely neighborhood in central Paris, it was around 8 or 9 PM. I felt a guy walking towards me and got tense. What effort would I have to produce to make him leave me alone in an efficient way?

The guy began talking to me, the regular bullshit. He was not aggressive but very insistent. I remained calm, didn’t make eye contact but still told him in a polite way I didn’t want anything from him and wanted to be left alone.

The guy literally walked me home – I was almost there when he first approached me. He was just a few meters away from me so I figured I would have time to open the door of my building and quickly get in. I rushed and panicked because I realized he had put his foot in the door. I lived in what used to be the superintendant’s apartment so I had no other locked door to cross, only mine.

The guy came right after me and as I was opening my own door, he kind of rushed and we both fell on the ground of my little apartment. He fell over me, to tell the truth. It was all dark and I was so scared I began peeing on myself – all kinds of visions went through my mind: “So it’s happening to me, now, the door is going to close back on us, the guy is going to rape me and nobody will hear me or even try to come to help.”

It all went very fast. The guy stood up and kind of backed off, I didn’t exactly pushed him or fought or anything like this. He looked a little puzzled and as he was standing there, already out the door, I told him he was crazy and he had to go. He said he was sorry, that he had thought I had entered a staircase and not my own home and that he “only” wanted to follow me (like it’s more honorable, or something.) He finally left in a very neutral manner, like nothing had happened. I was in shock.

I think, at a certain point, he got scared by the whole situation. Maybe he didn’t want to go that far and scare me that much. I don’t think he really knew what he was doing but still, all I really know is that, as is true of many men, he couldn’t take “no” for an answer.

– E. B.

Location: Paris, France

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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He “only” wanted to follow her

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I was walking back home one night, in my lovely neighborhood in central Paris, it was around 8 or 9 PM. I felt a guy walking towards me and got tense. What effort would I have to produce to make him leave me alone in an efficient way?

The guy began talking to me, the regular bullshit. He was not aggressive but very insistent. I remained calm, didn’t make eye contact but still told him in a polite way I didn’t want anything from him and wanted to be left alone.

The guy literally walked me home – I was almost there when he first approached me. He was just a few meters away from me so I figured I would have time to open the door of my building and quickly get in. I rushed and panicked because I realized he had put his foot in the door. I lived in what used to be the superintendant’s apartment so I had no other locked door to cross, only mine.

The guy came right after me and as I was opening my own door, he kind of rushed and we both fell on the ground of my little apartment. He fell over me, to tell the truth. It was all dark and I was so scared I began peeing on myself – all kinds of visions went through my mind: “So it’s happening to me, now, the door is going to close back on us, the guy is going to rape me and nobody will hear me or even try to come to help.”

It all went very fast. The guy stood up and kind of backed off, I didn’t exactly pushed him or fought or anything like this. He looked a little puzzled and as he was standing there, already out the door, I told him he was crazy and he had to go. He said he was sorry, that he had thought I had entered a staircase and not my own home and that he “only” wanted to follow me (like it’s more honorable, or something.) He finally left in a very neutral manner, like nothing had happened. I was in shock.

I think, at a certain point, he got scared by the whole situation. Maybe he didn’t want to go that far and scare me that much. I don’t think he really knew what he was doing but still, all I really know is that, as is true of many men, he couldn’t take “no” for an answer.

– E. B.

Location: Paris, France

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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Street Harassment from NY to France to Japan

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Exploring the blogosphere, I came across the following street harassment post on the blog Pomp and Circumstance:

“Heat and mating season make New Yorkers let it all hang out. I am pro sex yet have always had mixed feelings about street harassment. A woman whose weight fluctuates from average to a little extra, a globe trekker approaching 30, I’ve developed an international view on the issue.

Growing up in Philly after I lost my baby fat and had a growth spurt I got a lot of attention on the block. I chuckled, flinched sometimes. After a few years, I took “White is right!” “Can I get a ride? and “Pssst, snowflake” for granted. Yet I was always self-conscious, wearing overalls over my miniskirt to waitress one summer.

In France, I starved myself more to almost French size, sticking out only to my matronly host who said I was a little plump. Still, I was the victim of both friendly Bonjours and a teenage ass grabber.

I moved to Japan and gained 20 pounds. My teenaged students shouted ‘I love you,’ and girls grabbed my breasts in clubs. I was the victim of chikan-subway molestation. A crime so common authorities told me to carry hatpins.

I moved to New York five years ago. In the big city, women and men, cultivate the blank, sidewalk face, which I wear more often than I’d like. Sometimes, a ‘God bless you, beautiful’ is a relief.

-A”

An interesting and global take on street harassment, huh? Do you feel glad to hear from people on the street sometimes?

I’m also interested in how she perceives the role her weight plays in the kinds and volume of street harassment she experiences. Have you ever felt your weight impacts the type or volume of harassment you experience?

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