Anonymous, USA (California)

I was 10 years old, walking home from school when a man in a large white van pulled up to the curb next to me. He asked where I was going and told me that if I got in the van he could get me there faster. I refused, and he said that I was “an ungrateful little bitch”. He said that I was lucky that he even stopped for me because usually he only extended that kindness to pretty little girls, not fat whores like me. At this point, a woman ran up to me and pretended to be my mother to get me away. She walked with me the rest of the way, consoling me. For nearly a year I feared that the man had followed me home. I feared that he knew where I lived and it was only a matter of time until he tried to take me. I never told a soul.

I’m 13, yesterday I was walking to an ice cream shop with a friend when a 20-something-year-old man shouted from his car that he would love to fondle my breasts if only I lost 10 pounds because he didn’t fuck around with fat chicks. Keep in mind I’m 5’4 and 120 pounds. This time I stood up for myself, flipping him off and shouting “I’m a fucking minor”. To which he replied, “Minors don’t dress like hookers”. It’s July, so I was wearing shorts and a loose-fitting crop top. My friend stood up for me too. She was told to shut up and let her legs do the talking.