safe streets Archives | Stop Street Harassment

A view of the Verrazano Bridge from 5th Ave and 86th street. (Anthony Lanzilote) — A daytime shot of the intersection where this happened in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Photo credit: Anthony Lanzilote for AM New York.

I live in a safe neighborhood.

Of course, as a woman, that’s not an unqualified statement. What I mean is, I’ve only felt a relatively normal amount of fear when I walk alone or come home late. I don’t mean safe as in, I’m not worried about being harassed, followed, or worse. I mean, I’m not as worried about being harassed and followed as I would be in some other neighborhoods.

But last night I didn’t feel safe – I felt scared.

I went to pick up take-out for my boyfriend and me. I was presumptuous enough to do this alone. As I crossed the street kitty-corner from my block, two older men entered the cross walk as well. I did have that fleeting thought – it’s only a split second, hardly articulated, but spelled out it would read, “Please don’t say anything… not tonight…”

And then I heard, “Mira.” Spanish for, “Look.” Men in New York don’t usually expect me to speak Spanish. But I understood that one of them was telling the other to look at me, and when I turned he was a foot away from me, looking me up and down, and nearly drooling. (I know, I know, so flattering.)

I couldn’t help it. This was not a moment to “just ignore it” – he was too close. I said very clearly and directly to this man, “Please stop looking at me. It makes me uncomfortable.”

He replied, “It’s ok, I was just talking to my friend.”

It’s ok, we weren’t talking to you – just about you. This street doesn’t belong to you.

The other light was green and I needed to get away. I crossed the other street quickly, in front of the last few lighted shops before my dark apartment building. But when I was halfway up the block, I saw the man who had originally pointed me out crossing diagonally through the middle of the street and heading straight toward me. I started to panic. Was he coming after me? Was he going to say something? Would he try to hurt me? Would anyone help? This is New York…

I immediately made a plan. I was carrying my cell phone and wallet in one hand and my dinner and an umbrella in the other. If anyone – a sexual harasser or otherwise – wanted to take my wallet, it would have been easy. I’ve heard so many stories, and had so many men overreact when I told them to stop harassing me, that I knew, if he was following me, how this would play out. If this man wanted to intimidate me, the easiest thing for him to do would be to grab my wallet and phone and push me to the ground. He would walk away with some cash, an iPhone, and a renewed sense of his violent power.

I put the take-out bag handle over my left wrist and with the same hand held my phone and wallet against my stomach. In my right hand, I gripped the handle of my folded umbrella, ready to defend myself.

Perhaps I should note here – I’m a peace activist. I’m a practitioner of nonviolence, and everything I do personally and professionally is aimed at reducing the amount of violence in this world. But here I was, outside my own home in my “safe” neighborhood, mentally preparing myself to hit a man with my umbrella as hard as I could to defend myself.

I was thinking it through – he had fallen in step behind me, so if I heard him get close or saw his shadow too near me, I would have to turn around. I couldn’t let him get between me and my front door or I’d never get home safely. If he put his hands on me I’d get one good whack to bat him off and I’ve have to instantly run. If I didn’t run as fast as I could and get inside that door, there would be no fending off this man twice my height. And if he happened to be walking behind me because he lived in my building of 125 units where no one talks to their neighbors, well, then, there was no hope for me.

I got inside and up four flights of stairs as fast as I could, and he didn’t try to follow me. But my boyfriend and I were both scared and angry for several minutes even after I’d dead bolted our door.

Most of the time these men don’t follow me. Compared to the stories I’ve heard, I’ve been very lucky. But this isn’t the first time this has happened, and I know it won’t be the last. Every time a man harasses me, and especially when I dare to speak back, I have to plan my self defense, my escape route, the bystander I’ll look to, and what I’ll yell. I’ve practiced, “I don’t know you! Stop it!” lest anyone think this a “domestic dispute” that they shouldn’t get involved in.

This is the city, and the world, we live in. I can march against rape, injustice, police violence, and the war, but when I go out at night… I’d better have that umbrella.

Talia Hagerty is peace economics activist and Stop Street Harassment’s 2013 summer intern. Follow her on twitter – @taliahagerty – or read her blog about making the world better at www.theoryofchange.wordpress.com.

In Yemen more than 90 percent of women experience street harassment. Last year Ghaidaa Al Absi launched The Safe Streets campaign to address the problem. She created a website, using Ushahidi, to track street harassment in Yemen and recently she hosted an exhibition of local artists’ work on the topic. I’ll post an interview with her soon, in the meantime, view images from the exhibition. Here’s one of them. This image reminds me of something an attendee said during the Q&A at my talk last February at James Madison University. She said, “Street harassment teaches women that they are prey and that it’s safer to stick with the herd.” It’s sad but true how, because of street harassment and sexual violence, women often feel unsafe in public unless they are in a group. Even in Yemen, where women are very modestly dressed and veiled, they still face street harassment and are the prey with street harassers as the predators. Street harassment is not about what we wear or how we look, it’s about disrespect for women.