TW: harassment, street harassment, assault, swearing
I’ve been thinking a lot about street harassment lately. And the reason I’ve been thinking about it is because I haven’t been experiencing it. And the reason I’m not experiencing it is not because the world is becoming a better place or because people are becoming kinder or because I’m getting older. No—it’s because I don’t leave the house anymore.
That, and this story came across my feed recently:
I don't talk about this stuff much because it's stressful and I hate having to defend my experiences—like, "No, I know what I heard. Yes, he used that language to speak to me. No, I wasn't imagining that guy following me for a half mile through the park. Yes, I made a point to walk in a public area and was staying alert to my surroundings. No, it wasn't after dark. No, I wasn't wearing anything inappropriate..." (as if any of that really matters).
I also don’t like to talk about it because it makes everyone feel sorry for me, and they’re all apologetic and stuff—but it’s not like anyone does anything about it. It’s not like men go home and have heart-to-heart conversations with their friends about stopping the behavior. The police can’t do anything. And it’s not like the government cares.
[Though this is not to discount the efforts of organizations such as this one who work specifically on this issue.]
But this kind of incident has happened to me my entire life to the point that I can't even remember most of them. It's just normal. The first time I remember it, I was 14. And it has happened to me in NH, MD, NY, NC, ME, AK, Jamaica, and Scotland (just based on memories I have right off the top of my head) so please don't try to tell me it doesn't happen "where you live" or "in your community."
I have even been inappropriately grabbed (and kissed) in church.
And I doubt this will change in my lifetime. What I'd really like to see is more people believing that it happens, and that it happens all the time, even if it doesn't happen to them. And I'd like to see more men talking about it with each other, and having the guts to tell the mouthy ones to STFU—even if they're a complete stranger.
My favorite thing about quarantine is that I don't get called "bitch" every other day anymore--because I don't leave the house anymore.
A few things men have said to me just this year (all before quarantine started, mind you):
Bitch
You should smile more
You want a piece of me in you? (actually, this one happened in May, on my first attempt to go for a walk after lockdown started)
Look at that ass/tight ass/etc.
You need a ride?
Where you going? want company?
I'd hit that
Hey hot stuff
You got a boyfriend?
Take your shirt off
Show me your tits (yelled at me out of a car window despite Josh standing next right to me)
Also had a guy grab my thigh at Walmart with Josh standing right next to me
A few other experiences from past years that have really stuck out to me:
"Hey, pretty lady." (I ignore) "You look at me when I'm talking to you, bitch!" (Anchorage, AK)
The kid that rode past me on his bike, did a full up-down look and then 180, and proceeded to ride his bike behind me for three full blocks until I turned around and confronted him (Baltimore).
The kid that walked up to me and said, "May I give you a compliment?" (stunned silence from me taken as "permission")-- "you have a tight ass" and then he ran away (Baltimore)
The guy that stalked me in the park for almost a mile as the sun was setting, and only wandered off when I panic-knocked on my friend's door—and I was so scared, Josh had to come get me in the car even though I was less than a half mile from home (Baltimore)
The three guys in a pick-up who yelled at me out the window while I was walking and when I didn't respond, said, "Why do you have to be such a bitch?" (Dover, NH)
The dude that pulled over every day for three days in a week to ask me if I needed a ride when I was walking to work, and then proceeded to drive along very slowly beside me to "chat"—and I had to start driving to work again because he had figured out my schedule. (Dover, NH)
The three dudes that asked me if I wanted to come hang out with them by their car on the side of the road while I was trying to go for a run (Kingston, NH)
The guy on the highway playing "footsie" or "tag" (not sure if there's a term for it) with me by speeding past me, slowing way down, forcing me to pass him, and then speeding past me again—same pattern for almost thirty minutes (I literally thought I was going to die) (Rochester, NH) —this also happened to me in Bath, NY when I was 17, and a few times when I was driving back and forth between NY and NC in college
"Wow, you look so old and pretty for your age" (Bath, NY and I was 14)
The old dude that grabbed me, hugged, and kissed me on the forehead despite my attempts to get out of his grasp (Kittery, ME)—this one was in a church
... the more of these I type out, the more come to mind, but I'm going to assume you've gotten the point.
And I know the urge is always to say, "I'm so sorry this has happened to you," but please don't. This has happened to nearly every woman in some capacity, not just me. "Sorry" doesn't really mean anything any more.
I know I can't speak for all women, but based on my own experiences and those of other women that I've talked to, it is probable that if a woman sees a male-presenting stranger coming toward her for no reason, the assumption is almost always that he is a potential threat.
Even you.
And I definitely do: all strange men are threats. I don't care how nice you think you are.
There is nothing you can do to change that.
So what can you do? Leave her alone, don't comment on her body or appearance, stay away from her, mind your own business. Call out your friends who are being dicks or who engage in or encourage this type of behavior. And ask if she needs your help before you intervene on her behalf (unless it’s obvious that she’s in trouble).
Anyway, I wrote a poem about this after a stressful incident this summer when I was in a place where I thought I was safe, but turns out I wasn’t.
I don’t usually share my (rare) poetry unless it’s silly, but I decided maybe it would be worth sharing this particular piece.
We Are Not Safe In The Streets
[Note: the things in the poem are incidents which have either happened to me personally, something that I witnessed, or which someone has shared with me during a conversation about this topic.]
