One time I was at school and there was this boy who said “what’s up?” In a disrespect way. Then a few days later I was walking down the hallway and he catcalled me during lunch. That same lunch period I walked down the hallway again and he catcalled me again, and that same lunch period he catcalled me again. One time I did stand up at this high school and I was catcalled. Another time I was catcalled by trick o treaters when giving candy outside of my house. Catcalling has really hurt me it has caused me to worry about how to respond and made me feel uncomfortable wearing certain clothes in public. But I think it’s really important to advocate for women not to worry about how to respond but to speak about the injustice they have faced and tweet and share every time they get catcalled to help raise awareness to this horrible issue. And all women out there we got this!
When I was 13 I developed large breasts, I had a D cup size, nothing too crazy, but because of my body frame and the fact that I live in Spain, where big breasts aren’t too common and no underwear stores have my size (unless it’s minimiser bras) it was VERY noticeable. I was still barely over being a child, my first year as a teenager, and when I saw old men they would always remind me of my grandfather. That is, till the day I walked up my street and some old men mentioned how my breasts bounced and how they would like to help me carry them. I was so shocked, I didn’t understand why they would ever say that to me, I wasn’t aware of the world I was entering, how I unintentionally was invited to the sad real world. I feel like that day they took a big part of my childhood away. While growing up my breasts always seemed to be a problem, my mother would buy me minimiser bra’s so that my clothes would look better, therefore teaching me my clothes didn’t look good on me, instead of looking for clothes that suited my body type. I was either bought granny bra’s or lingerie, which never seemed to match how I felt. Then while I was growing up I noticed the stares I’d get from men so I started covering up, and one day in secondary school, one of my class mates told me that I had great boobs, but there was no point in having them because I was always hiding them. I remember feeling bad, like I was doing something wrong because I wasn’t showing them. Then one day when I was 18, I was going to the gym, which I hardly ever did, because it was so hard to find a sports bra that actually worked anyway, and I chose a particularly good sports bra, that held me tight but gave me a great cleavage, and I felt good. I only had a V-neck t-shirt because the others I had were dirty, and when my flatmate saw me, she was shocked. I asked her why and she explained that she expected other girls to go around flaunting but she hadn’t expected me to. She was completely unaware somehow of the injustice of her putting a t-shirt on and it being a normal day and of me putting it on and being called an attention seeker and that I wanted to flaunt what I had. All this made me want to hide my breasts, I didn’t have back problems but I just hated them. So I decided to get a breast reduction. I applied through our national health care and was accepted. When I told some of my friends they were horrified, others were really happy for me but they all had these strong opinions about how I looked, not about how it affected my health, which would be the best reason to have it. I realised then, that I truly didn’t want a breast reduction, I wanted to live a life where people would think they had the right to voice an opinion about my body, where I wouldn’t be given lascivious looks because of it, where it wouldn’t feel like because I had them, I was asking for attention, where I wouldn’t get home at the end of the day and take my minimiser bras off and breathe out in relief, because they were cutting into my skin. I realised that that world didn’t exist, and I wasn’t going to find it by having a breast reduction. We have to make it, and I could use some help.
Back when a student, riding a train back to my hometown. Some guy sits next to me and suddenly starts to feel up my thigh. Unfortunately for him, I was also reading a 900-page textbook and promptly slammed it on his hand, which made him stop, but we definitely shouldn’t have to resort to that. Also random old guy stopping me in the street and offering me 20 quid to sleep with him. And guys calling me a fat ugly slut for not dropping everything and letting them shag me on the spot. I’ve stopped counting.
I was walking home from the supermarket on Sunday afternoon. I was almost at my flat when an estate-type car drove past slowly. I looked up when I heard a child’s voice shout “sexy” at me to see a boy of no more than 7 holding my eye contact and “suggestively” kissing the air in my direction. The driver and the only other passenger in the car, I presume his father, carried on driving. I watched them drive away, jaw hanging open.
Hello, I am a young 18 year old girl from Australia and I have a few things to say about everyday sexism that I have experienced. The first thing I think of when referring to this topic is the many times I could be walking down the street with either my sister or by myself to find some cars passing by honking or cat calling out to us. The worst time this had happened was when I was alone waiting for an early morning bus into work and a group of four young man loudly shouted out and called to me and then proceeded to drive quickly in the direction of shop bus station. Luckily they just drove around the parking area and didn’t disturb anymore than that. During school I had found sexism occured when people would perceive my love for biology as a weird thing for a girl, or the time I picked up a grasshopper to place it outside it was seen as a “boyish” thing to do. Another instance I have experienced is both in public and at home where people will actively insult or tease me for having both small breasts and butt; some even saying I have the chest of and butt of a boy. The only other form of sexism I have experienced is in every relationship I have has so far with a male has involved sexist insults and assumptions. Generally the male I have dated were surprised by my independant nature to the point of complaining to me about it or calling it a flaw. There has also been a common belief among them that because I am a girl that likes them sexual intimacy and sending nudes is something I am meant to do and they didn’t always listen to the word “No.” I have also had all my opinions ignored constantly and dismissed as being “over dramatic,” or “maybe she’s on her period,” or “her hormones must be acting up.” I have also had my ex’s parents try and shove the idea of children down my throat even when I may seem uncomfortable as I want to put my energy into my career. Usually when I tell them that they tell me how “different” I am from most girls who would dream of a family and kids from a young age unlike me. (sorry for the long post. As soon as I started to write I realized just how much sexism I have experienced and thought nothing of.)
I’ve had quite big breasts and a small waist from the age of 11 (22 now), and ever since then I’ve been ogled, catcalled and had men (especially older men – builders, car drivers, guys in big groups etc) shout obscene sexual things at me, and often when i ignore them/turn them down, they get really angry and start shouting things like ‘you’re an ugly bitch’ ‘i never liked you anyway’ ‘f*** off you miserable cow’ etc.. since 11 years old! Often when i was wearing school uniform!
When I was about twelve my family and I went to Jamaica for a wedding. Since it was the first time we had gone out of the country we stayed at an all-inclusive resort. This resort was awesome, it had an ice cream machine, a Buffet, an open bar( with age restrictions. Duh.), a beach, pools and water slides all within a two-minute walk from our room. This was an amazing experience, it was the first time I had been to the ocean and seen trees that had fruits other than apples on them. I live in a relatively small town and don’t go to the city very often so there are few opportunities for me to be catcalled or harassed. But at this resort there were lots of people around all the time and almost everyone had bathing suits on or some other form of light clothing and many were a bit tipsy in the afternoon. As a twelve-year-old from a small town, waterslides were super exciting. My younger brother, sister and I were all over the slids in minutes. I had gone on one of the slides a couple of times and was having the time of my life. At the top and bottme of the slide, there was a lifeguard-type person. This guy’s job was to make sure nobody whent up that was to small or drunk. After going on this ride for a few times I was familiar with the procsses. When I was going up to the slide the guy at the bottom of the stairs woofed and growled at me. I was so confused. My stomach dropped and I felt like puking. I had never even heard of catcalling. I didn’t know that being a woman meant that men would do this to me. I didn’t go back on that slide for the rest of the trip and I never told anyone that it happened. For a while, I forgot about it but as I got older I heard about my friend getting catcalled when she when to the city and when I went to see a hockey game with my family two young women in front of us, on our walk back to the hotel, were being harassed by two men who wanted them to go into their club. My life from age twelve to about sixteen was spent thinking these things were normal and even that being catcalled meant you were attractive. Now five years after my brife encounter with harasment thinking of the things women deal with every day makes my stomach roll just like when I was twelve.
I went to take out the trash to a recyclables-only-bin which was a one-minute walk from my apartment and I suddenly heard a loud and sqweaky beep from a horn. Turns out it was one of these big transporters; the driver was sitting comfortably in the driver’s seat which was 2.5 meters above my head and slowed down when he saw me. He was staring at me, he winked and pulled his tongue out. I am 26 years old, he was in his 50-60-70s from what I could tell. He could barely make out if I was a kid or an adult-he horned and winked and pulled his tongue out anyway. Just because he saw my long hair and handbag. I stood still for a few seconds and showed him the finger. Only then did I realise he was the father of the kids I used to babysit for 2 years. I wish his sons do not end up like him.
I was on a school trip to the beaches of Newquay, Uk and the football world cup was on at this time. England seemed to be doing pretty well everyone was getting a bit excited by this first night, we were sent on an assignment that was a bit like a hunt to find our bearings around the area. when some drunk men came out from watching the match (we had won) and came up to the group of us about 5 girls and 5 boys and asked “are any of you ladies down to fuck” I was very taken back by this but my best friend without missing a beat turned to him, with a sassy tone in her voice, responded “underage, honey” this caught the attention of the crowd coming out of the pub and the other group from our class and everyone seemed so happy she actually bucked up to him. as we were too afraid to even though he didn’t hold any real threat to us as he were even struggling to walk straight. despite this and knowing I could outrun all of them with no problem, I still found my self afraid that someday I might be alone in a similar situation with a more sober man and freeze my real problem is I know that if I was to get raped my mental health would get really bad and I am 80% sure I will attempt suicide after something like that. especially as I am a lesbian who generally finds the idea of just kissing a guy repulsive
I was jogging on the canal yesterday evening with music playing loudly through earphones. Two men were walking in the opposite direction to me and I anticipated some kind of interaction as they were walking in the middle of the path and I sensed some kind of attitude. When I neared them started making kissing faces at me and saying something I couldn’t make out fully about how I looked. Without turning around, I yelled that I couldn’t hear them, which was true, to which they yelled something back which I again couldn’t hear. I carried on jogging away but then became nervous that they might follow me. As my route meant I ultimately had to return the way I came I considered changing it to avoid having to go past them. I didn’t and luckily didn’t bump into them again.