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Cat called getting off the subway. “Hey baby-don’t turn away when you know it’s good…” I said nothing. Kept walking. Came home pissed.
There was a car following me for a little bit with a bunch of dudes in it. It was my first time taking the train in and out of the city by myself. I had gone with friends before, but never completely alone. It was weirdly empty, but the car pulled up to me, whistled at me, and then shouted, “Hey baby, how much do you charge for that skirt?” I stammered and tried to just walk away but then they sped off, laughing. I felt humiliated. I wasn’t even wearing a skirt, which led me to believe that they were calling me a prostitute for fun. It wasn’t traumatic, but it shook me up a little, to know that this car filled with 20-something year old guys had followed me a little ways just to shout verbally sexual insults at me.
Today was a beautiful, sunny, 67 degree day, a November rarity.
I wore a sweater and jean shorts, and carried my jacket, and was still sweating from my warm boots. Gorgeous weather to go for a walk.
I was outside on the streets from 11am to 1:30pm.
In that time I was the victim of over two dozen attacks (I tried to keep count, but couldn’t), ranging from aggressive kissy noises and honked horns to shouts from behind me and men standing in my way to watch my face as they ‘appreciate’ my legs. Men in pairs, single men, packs of four leaning against walls. Men in the library, men in cars waiting at traffic lights, men hollering from ten feet away, asking me if I know how sexy my legs are, men scanning me up and down as we walk past each other, hitting their buddies and turning back to point and howl and “Damn girl” and “mmmHMM!” and “those are some fine sexy legs baby” and more, and more, and more.
This was not an abnormal day.
I was walking to the subway after getting off work at 10 p.m. on Saturday. A pack of five or six young men followed me all the way from 8th Avenue to 7th Avenue, hissing over and over, “Babydoll… hey babydoll… babydoll… babydoll!” When I ignored them, looking straight ahead and keeping my normal pace, they started laughing — cackling, really — and began making comments like “look at that ass!,” all the while continuing to call me “babydoll.” The sidewalk was deserted, with no one there to overhear, but there was enough car traffic to prevent me from crossing to the other side of the street.
I spent the two minutes or so it took to reach 7th Avenue — two seemingly endless minutes — trying to keep my breathing steady and avoid acknowledging them in any way, while wondering what to do if one of them grabbed me: Should I go for the balls? The eyes? And what would I do if they all attacked me at once?
Walking home with my dinner, passed a group of men and two out of three made loud kissing noises.
Guy just feels like he can walk up to me on the train and say whatever he wants. I am minding my own business when he walks over and extremely loudly starts proclaiming- “you’re gorgeous-you are really beautiful…” and i was so not interested and he looked kind of creepy. so i just looked away and minded my own business.
Then he said-oh you won’t make eye contact with me? Do you think I’m a creep?” and this is all in a loud threatening voice as he is standing at the edge of my seat-how dare he do that? There was a nice older guy sitting behind me who felt really badly about what had happened and was really nice but to the guy who felt like he could say whatever he wanted-yes i do think you are a creep-leave me alone!
I am so lucky for my supportive friends in this experience. Especially my boyfriend who always supports me with this stuff.
Today I was sitting with a group of 2 guys and my other friend that is a girl. We were talking about street harassment and I talked about all the times I’ve been sexually harassed on the subway or the street. All guys really are surprised when you tell them these things.We live in a completely different city than they do.
I’ve been masturbated to on the subway 3 times. One man touched me with his penis. I’ve been called names like Mama, gorgeous, honey, sweetie, beautiful. I’ve been told to smile, I’ve been photographed on the way home. I’ve been followed, honked at. I’ve been winked at grabbed, touched, smirked at. I’ve heard things like “let me take you out tonight”, “get back on my seat”.
Women should not have to walk out of the house knowing that they might get sexually harassed. Victim blaming HAS to end right now. I will walk out of the house in a sweatshirt and sweatpants and get cat called. It’s like a second nature to second guess myself if I’m wearing a tight top or one that shows a bit of cleavage.
That’s my decision that my decision to feel sexy and good about my body shouldn’t turn into my problem when you make a decision to stare at me or comment.
People ask my why I’m so passionate about this a lot. My mom was raped, my best friend was raped. Women everywhere are made out to seem like they’re doing something wrong everyday. They’re called a slut a whore a skank a thot a hoe for their own choices and making decisions with their own bodies. Especially high school girls. I see this every day in my high school. A woman should not be judged on her decision to wear a shirt that makes her feel good about herself, that is 0% your problem.
I was walking down the street with my friend on the way back from lunch. I’m a high school girl, I hear voices coming from a car so I turn around. I hear one man go “hey get into the back seat” and another “you can get back on my seat”. I’ve had this happen to me enough times so usually I just let it go but this one set me off in particular.
I told them I didn’t ask them and they should go fuck themselves. Probably wasn’t the best response but I felt so angry and so determined to let them know what they did was not okay. My friend (who always makes fun of me for my feminist rants) wasn’t phased at all. Not at all, I went inside and decided to go back out to take a picture, they were gone but I was still angry. This has to end.