The Everyday Sexism Project exists to catalogue instances of sexism experienced on a day to day basis. They might be serious or minor, outrageously offensive or so niggling and normalised that you don’t even feel able to protest. Say as much or as little as you like, use your real name or a pseudonym – it’s up to you. By sharing your story you’re showing the world that sexism does exist, it is faced by women everyday and it is a valid problem to discuss.

If you prefer to e-mail me at I can upload your story for you instead. Follow us on Twitter (and submit entries by tweet) at @EverydaySexism.

Add your story:


Nearly died at home and abroad from violence, phone messed about by men & women. Women can be just as if not more sexist/misogynistic. Recently have been harassed at home, text etc. if go out hugged, grabbed etc. Past sexual abuse & violence here and abroad. Have to be strong in this life. Workplace lots of mobbing, bullying. Police, social services, unis, NHS, you name it. Hate crimes, disability, misogyny, religion, racism. Brexit and Trump obj inflamed the situation.



I’ve recently read your book, Everyday Sexism and I have to tell you I am so thankful for it. I have always blamed myself for what has happened to me and I now feel like I can accept that I was not at all to blame.

I am 26 now. When I was 19, I started at university and lived in university accommodation. I was SO excited to move in with people my own age and be independent. The first night there, we were greeted by ‘Fresher reps’ who were older students, there to take us out drinking. There were heavy drinking games, chants, ‘icebreakers’ etc. And the atmosphere was very geared towards those who are into partying. Everyone joined in, because we were all so eager to be involved and make friends.

One of my flatmates was a very attractive guy and my friend noticed this straight away. He wasn’t really my type. He instantly took a liking to me and whilst were out he tried numerous times to rub up against me and get close. I made it clear that nothing was going to happen between us. At the end of the first night, he tried to invite himself into my room and I declined.

The second night of freshers’ week, I went out with my flatmates again. I got separated from the girls and ended up with the same guy from the previous night (call him J) and another guy from my flat. We shared a taxi back and sat in the common room drinking. I remember being sure in my mind that NOTHING would happen between me and J. I was quite drunk and we were playing a drinking game. They handed me a glass of alcohol to drink and dared me to down it- so I did. That’s the last thing I remember from that night.

The next morning, I woke up completely naked in J’s bed. I remember feeling extremely embarrassed, sore down below and he wasn’t there. I gathered my things and ran to my own room. I felt so ashamed because I had sex with him, even though I hadn’t wanted to. I blamed myself because I downed the drink and impaired myself. I felt humiliated as I couldn’t remember anything that happened after that drink. I couldn’t even remember when (or if!) the second guy had left.

A few days later, I saw J in the kitchen and he came onto me. This time I had sex with him consensually. To this day I don’t fully know why I did that…because I didn’t feel attracted to him and I was still utterly humiliated and confused. I think I wanted to take control of the situation. I thought ‘what the hell, I’ve had sex with him once.’ I didn’t tell anyone about what had happened for years because I figured that if I did, I would be asked why I had sex with J if he had raped me a few days before. I thought of these encounters as one night stands, but remained confused and disgusted at myself.

After this experience, I became withdrawn, depressed and my grades suffered. I have since opened up about it to a couple of female friends. One of whom told me that something similar has happened to her, the other one seemed to disbelieve it. I have recently told my current boyfriend and he dismissed it- saying that I chose to have sex with him the second time. Confirming my fears- if that’s his response, I’m glad I never bothered to go to the police.


First woman appointed chief of police

Watch out for the comments section!

Here’s one charmer

“Another woman (lesbian?) promoted due to her gender and not her abilities.”

Weird how men often are promoted because of their gender yet our commenters assume they are capable…… yet you bust a gut and beat the odds and out come the frightened little boys


At the airport. Was tired because my layover had been 5 hours long. I had taken an hour to find a seat in the airport. Finally found one. Fell asleep. Almost missed my flight so when the last call was called out, I freaked out. Luckily there was a flight attendant looking for people on that flight potentially stuck in the long security queues and bumping them up the line. She walked me all the way to the front of a 50 person line. I politely excused myself to the man she placed me in front of and said thank you. He civilly said “Wouldn’t want you to miss your flight m’aam. That’s alright.” I smiled.

So I took off my shoes, earrings and jacket, placed them with my handbag on a tray and walked through the security check. I was waiting on the other end for my stuff. And previously polite man walked up behind me and placed his hands on my waist as he walked around me. PS my bare waist cuz I was wearing a crop top. Why did he touch me? Also. My skin. He put his hands on my bare skin. A man I do not know. A man I only shared pleasantries with. Being polite is an invitation to touch my body now? All I wanted to do was clear security and make it to my flight. I would like to do that without men feeling they can touch me because security demands I take off certain pieces of clothing when I walk through the scanners.

I was visibly tired. Late for my flight. Travelling alone. So my thanks for being polite to a stranger in an obviously stressful situation is to get grabbed at the waist? Why a grown man would think he should squeeze someone from behind at the waist is beyond me. I unfortunately didn’t have time to confront the situation because I was rushing to catch my flight. But three days later still bothered by this violation of my personal space and inappropriate touching of my body.


I recently went to a supermarket with my mum, there was a man selling poppies and I went to buy one. he insisted on putting it on me himself despite my insistence that I was fine to do it myself. he chose a place right on my breast and took ages to fasten it and kept pretending like he was accidently touching me


The other day, I met up with a (male) friend at a local bar. When we’d left and were standing outside the bar about to go our separate ways, he proceeded to tell me a ‘funny’ story about another night when he’d been at the same bar with a mutual (male) friend of ours:
“We were playing pool and this girl cycled past the window, and both of us immediately were like ‘She’s hot!’ but then we both hesitated a bit, and he says ‘her hips are too big’ and it’s so funny because I was thinking EXACTLY the same thing.”
“It makes me feel really insecure that those are the kinds of conversations that you’re having,” I said to him.
“Oh no!” he exclaimed, “YOU don’t have to worry about that at all. YOU don’t have that problem at all. Like not AT ALL!”
I responded to this with a jumbled series of incomplete sentences as I struggled to process what had just been said to me and to find the words to explain that my concern was definitely NOT that my body didn’t meet his high standards, I couldn’t care less either way, and I’m not sure why he thinks I should; my concern is obviously that my friends talk about women the way that I would talk about a piece of furniture, not another human being. As a woman I find that both frightening and depressing whether I’m considered an attractive piece of furniture or not.
“Oh come on,” he retorted, “You do the same when you see a guy!”
“No,” I replied, completely bewildered, “I don’t.”
“Well,” he said, smiling cheerfully and shrugging his shoulders, “What can I say? We men are simple beings.”
So he’s now completely relieved himself of any responsibility by blaming his gender, which is insulting to men. I thought that this conversation from hell couldn’t get any worse, and then he continued talking:
“But anyway, the funny part of the story was: we were playing pool with this black guy, and he said the TOTAL opposite. He LIKED big hips, but he said it’s really disappointing when you see a girl sitting down and she has big hips, but then she stands up and her bum isn’t that big, because if she has big hips it usually means she has a big bum. And that totally fits the stereotype, right?” He’s actually managed to pile on even more sexism, and weave some racism into the story as well.
I happen to have a big bum myself, so I said to him: “Well thank goodness I can still get the black men with my big bum!” The heavy irony in the tone of the self-abasement, desperation for male sexual attention, and overt racism in that statement was entirely lost on him. What that’s taught me is never ever to use sarcasm to try to get my point across. But I’m left with more questions than lessons from that conversation. It’s been on my mind every day since, and it’s left me deeply concerned.


I’ve had so many sexist things happen to me in the past and just thinking about them makes me so upset. A couple months ago I was dancing at a party. JUST dancing. I was literally not doing anything else, I was just on the dance floor having fun when a guy I sort of know and sort of consider a friend called me a “fucking slut.” This is not okay to say to anyone, in any circumstance, but I was just dancing. It ruined so many parties to come for me.
Last year, I moved schools and it was a really small school. I felt really uncomfortable when I first came. I was sitting on a couch, reading, and two guys sat really close to me on either side. Like they were both touching my thighs. It made me so uncomfortable and when I asked them to move they just grinned at each other. At the same school, they would constantly make blowjob jokes at me, and a couple times I called them assholes and they said I was over-reacting. They would also dare each other to unzip the skirt I was wearing, and when we had gym they would all slow down to run behind me and stare at my butt, they were obvious about it too!
A couple weeks ago in Theology class a guy in the class literally said that we didn’t need girls, and that a man could do everything. A girl shouted back at him; “That’s not true! Who would do your laundry, cooking, take care of the children, and clean for you!”
Last year I ran into a gas station real quick to get a drink and two creepy fifty year olds approached me and started saying things like “hey baby” I was scared out of my mind and ran out of the gas station!
These are just couple examples and I could probably type for hours about all the sexist things that have happened.


I recently went clubbing with a male friend of mine and one of his friends. I met him at university about a year ago when we were on the same course, and since the course ended I’ve met up with him maybe three or four times outside of the classroom. I have not given him any reason to think that I’m interested in anything other than friendship with him. Nonetheless, when I was dancing he kept putting his arm around my shoulders and my waist.

I have been sexually assaulted and raped on a number of different occasions, by different men and boys, starting from the age of 5, and I struggle with symptoms of PTSD. Sometimes in situations such as this one, I become paralysed in fear and panic and don’t react to protect myself. This friend had never done anything that I felt uncomfortable with before; I try to stay well away from men who make me feel uncomfortable because of the reaction that I tend to have in these kinds of situations.

The next day I told a (female) friend about what had happened and she told me that what I had to realise was that he didn’t do anything wrong and that it affected me so much only because of my past experiences. But doesn’t it say something that what he was doing to me was reminiscent of past experiences that were traumatising? Doesn’t that in itself suggest that something wasn’t right? To me it seems clear that it was wrong of him.

I think that if I had a boyfriend, my friend might have agreed that it was wrong. It’s a thought that saddens me because it implies that I’m just an object for all men to use as they please unless I’m the property of a particular man in which case other men should respect him by respecting his property. An object itself doesn’t demand any respect. But I’m not an object, I’m human.