Stop Street Harassment

Making Public Spaces Safe and Welcoming

Street Harassment Round Up – June 7

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Stories:

  • On this blog, a male ally submitted a story about street harassment he observed on a vacation in New Orleans; a female contributor shared a story about being followed by a man in NYC and having him touch her from behind with his penis (!)
  • You can submit your stories via Twitter now on Holla Back NYC. Tweet from the street with #hbnyc! Your tweets will be retweeted through @emilymaynot and posted to HollabackNYC!” Here’s their first entry sent this way, from @ElizabethKoke: a dude turned to look me up and down, called me “bitch” and said that it looked like I had a long day but still looked good.
  • On Holla Back CHICAGO a contributor tells how a man in a truck took photos of her butt as she walked home from running at a park and then he had the nerve to call her a pervert for “wearing see-through pants.”

  • Holla Back DC! has several new contributor posts this week. They also have a post about talking to WMATA about sexual harassment on DC public transportation. Way to put on the pressure, ladies!

Share your street harassment story today and help raise awareness about the problem!

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So our daughters can be safe

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At my job this week, I got to help with a big college women student leaders conference. One of the speakers today was Naomi Tutu, a leader and activist in her own right, and one of the daughters of Archbishop Desmond Tutu (a Nobel Peace Prize winner etc). During a Q&A after she spoke to the students, one person asked what inspires her when she’s tired and doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed and face another battle that day. Naomi said she thinks of the women who came before her (like her mother and grandmother who had harder lives than she but had the strength to persevere) and the women who will come after her. She said she has two daughters and that the human rights work she does is so that her daughters will be able to walk anywhere they want and still be safe. The audience burst into applause.

On days when I feel discouraged, those are the women who I think of as well — all the women who came before me who fought hard for the rights I enjoy today, and the women who will come after me. If I ever have a daughter and a son, I want to know I’ve done all I can to make sure that the daughter has the same freedom to move about in public spaces as her brother.

If women cannot be safe or free from harassment in public (or private spheres, which is another but related story altogether) there will never be equality. It is the right of each of us to be safe in public.

naomi tutu smaller

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New Orleans Bead Throwers

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New Orleans Trip 0309 57 French Quarter happy hour attendees waiting for woment to walk by to rate them and throw beads if they acknowlegeEarlier this year I traveled to New Orleans for a long weekend get away. I’d never been and looked forward to seeing the sites and hearing the sounds. Of course I had to visit Bourbon Street in the heart of the French Quarter and people watch. One late afternoon, bordering on evening (definitely within the Happy Hour window), I walked about a mile stretch of the street. Going in the first direction, I vaguely noticed a group of people with drinks on a second floor balcony enjoying the atmosphere, the company, the moment. I didn’t think much about it.

On the way back, at the same place, I noticed someone throwing a string of beads from the balcony to a passerby. I stopped to watch and soon realized that what was happening was that as women passed there were yells, catcalls, some sort of communication and if the woman looked up and responded, then she’d receive a string of beads tossed to her as a reward. As I stood and watched, about 1/3 of the women passersby seemed either oblivious to the situation or to just ignore it, about 1/3 actually crossed to the other side of the street to pass without the harassment, and about 1/3 seemed to realized what was happening and, although most of them just continued on with only faint recognition, a few actually responded in a way that gave them the prized string of beads.

I’ve thought off and on about the situation and what my feelings were. I thought many things, trying to rationalize what I saw. These thoughts included all sorts of predictable things like, “well, it was only a week after Mardi Gras and beads were more popular than ticker tape in New York or politicians in Washington DC. People in New Orleans need very little to provoke a gift of beads any time of the year, let alone at that time”; or, well the event took place during Happy Hour on a Friday—whaddya expect?!”, and of course there are the expected thoughts of “afterall, it was Bourbon Street in New Orleans—come on!!”

I guess the enduring point I take away is that 1/3 of the women were uncomfortable enough with the situation that they crossed to the other side of the street to avoid the situation. It seems to be a perfect fit for the standard definition of sexual harassment—a situation in which someone is forced to experience unwanted or unexpected personally directed attention. It doesn’t matter where it is, if it is unwanted, it needs to be respected.

– a male ally

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Sick Perv

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Yesterday around 12:30PM I was walking down a narrow street in Brooklyn (61st Street, between 8th and 9th Avenue) and there was a man wearing a red tshirt walking really slowly in front of me and taking up the entire sidewalk. I was in a rush so I walked faster, hoping to get ahead of him. When I quickened my pace, he started walking faster as well (I was wearing flip flops so he could hear me walking faster) which I thought was a little odd. I kept walking faster, and he kept walking faster, but I ultimately got in front of him, but I could still hear him walking really fast behind me to try and catch up which made me feel slightly nervous. I felt a poke from behind and I turned around and the sick perv had his penis hanging out. Now that he had my attention he resumed his slow pace. I was too shocked/disgusted/angered to say or do anything so I just crossed the street and walked in the opposite direction.

– anonymous

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Beer Festival Hell

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I was at a beer festival and at the end of the event one man grabbed me by the arm and started pulling me along with him. I jerked my hand away and walked back towards my friends. Another man approached me and asked to take my picture. I was shaken from the other man grabbing me so I figured it would be better to comply and not anger him, but when I was standing there he pulled down the front of my shirt and touched my breast. I just sort of turned and ran away. Since then I feel uncomfortable wearing low cut shirts when I will be walking alone because I think that is what attracted his attention.

-anonymous

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