Street Harassment

Rachel

Was sitting in a café outside today, just minding my own business and attempting to write a poem. A man walks past, smiles, winks – quite sleazily. I look down and continue. He says “Smile!” In no mood for it, I say “Don’t tell me to smile.” He yells back, quick as lightening: “Yeah, and that is why you have a shit sex life. Keep it up!” Then stomps off. (I have a boyfriend and my sex life is great, but clearly someone’s isn’t.) Just for once it would be nice to go out and not be living in fear and you can’t even stand up for yourself without getting abuse.

Anon

I was walking home from the gym on a sunday evening at 7pm. On a quiet residential street, a guy cycled past and groped my breast. It was a quick brush because of the speed he was moving and the fact that my coat was slippy. I was so shocked I kept walking, I even wondered if it was accidental, that he was pushing me out of the way even though he was the one cycling on the pavement. But then further down the road, having taken my headphones out, I heard a bike come up behind me again. I raised my arms instinctively and the same guy cycled past and turned to smirk at me, he seemed happy that he had made me scared and defensive. I was too scared to say anything but I took out my phone to try and take a photo of him and he cycled away. I was terrified the whole rest of the way home in case he tried to follow me back. I filed a report with the police when I got home because I didn’t know what else to do and I was so appalled that he felt so entitled and enjoyed making me uncomfortable. I’m so angry that we still live with this and that so many women, LGBTQ+ people and people of colour have to live with the fear of being harassed and attacked just by stepping outside the door. Misogyny needs to be a hate crime.

Hannah Roo

I was a young girl in a grey school uniform. He groped me from behind, up my skirt, and I didn’t have tights on. It was the first time I had ever been touched there. As I hurried away, he threatened to “shank” me. I didn’t really know what “shank” meant, and I wondered whether he meant with a knife or with his penis. He continued following me and, at the corner of my road, demanded that he know my age. I lied, telling him I was 13 not 15. This seemed to work, and he walked away. When I got home, I went straight to my bedroom. This felt strange, but I felt it was my only option. I stayed away from my mother, away my sister watching TV, and away from the food in the kitchen. Alone.

Hannah Roo

I was so angry afterwards that I don’t even remember what he said. It was the angriest I’ve felt in response to a street harassment incident. It might be because I expected myself to respond in a way that told him off, and I didn’t, so I felt like I’d failed, failed to tackle the problem and bring about change. I felt shocked, surprised, and aware of the power imbalances of a male in a car vs a woman on foot. I wanted to run after the car and tell him how annoyed I was and how inappropriate it is to harass people. The car stopped at the end of the road, providing me with the opportunity to respond if I’d been quick enough, but I felt I couldn’t, and was scared of a violent reaction from him. Playing it back in my head, I even imagined that he could have threatened me with rape if I had run after and challenged him. It also annoyed me as it happened twice, within ten seconds. Two different men in two different cars. I didn’t respond to the first incident as I wasn’t entirely sure if he was talking to me, as he could have been on the phone in his car – although I couldn’t see evidence of this. He just said ‘gorgeous’ and nothing else. After looking round to check if it was to me, I wasn’t sure, but shook my head as I walked away, just in case. I felt frustrated that a daily decision I make as a woman is to weigh up whether what am wearing will increase the likelihood of harassment. Why shouldn’t I wear shorts to the gym?

Madeleina Kay

When I was 14 years old I was a victim of violent sexual assault. I was on holiday in Norfolk and I had gone down to the beach during the afternoon to do some sketching with my chalk pastels. A naked man, with a towel over his shoulder, approached me and stood in front of me striking poses and laughing. I tried to ignore him, but he came closer to me and gestured to me to touch his penis. I shook my head and began putting my chalk pastels back in their box, and hastily packing my possessions into my bag. He took out a note and offered me money to touch him. I grabbed my stuff and walked away as quickly as I could, but the man followed me. He grabbed me and I pushed him away and started to run. But he was faster than me, he chased me down, threw me around like a rag doll and groped me. I had my shoes in my hand (I hadn’t had time to put them back on), and I hit him with them, as hard as I could, until he let go. Then I ran, up the steps from the beach and only turned to look back once I reached the top. He was stood at the bottom, wanking himself, and screaming “Fuck me, Bitch!”. This memory is now seared on my brain forever, in disturbing detal, and often gets triggered when I visit beaches. From 2017-2019 I was full-time activist, campaigning alongside grassroots communities, in unofficial roles working with volunteers, where there were no systems of protection in place. An older male activist developed an obsession with me. It didn’t take much effort scrolling through the photos on his Facebook profile, half of which were of me, for anyone to realise he had an unhealthy fixation. He began following me around at events like he was a possessed dog, usually drunk with a bottle of coke, half of which was made up of vodka. You could smell the booze on him. He was known to be unreliable by other activists, as he would regularly disappear to go to the pub. Wherever we were, in a venue, on the train, at a demonstration, he would always try to stand or sit as close to me as possible. Then he started putting his hands on my bare legs and pressing himself into me. If I arrived at an event he would greet me by grabbing both my arms and kissing me on the lips. When I took my dog to events, he would take her lead and refuse to give her back to me. when I first told others what was happening and asked them to act to protect me, I was told that they couldn’t do anything because he was “alcoholic and emotionally vulnerable”. I was so terrified of him turning up, I started avoiding events where I knew he would be there. In 2020, he died of cancer, and I am not ashamed to admit I felt relieved. Sadly, he was not the only one. I’ve been harassed innumerable times online and in person. The worst incident was an older man sending me messages that he dreamed of marrying me and having children. He then found out my address online and started sending “gifts” and postcards to me in the post. I was terrified he would turn up at my house and I nearly called the police, but I did not – I didn’t think they could do anything to help and it would be more hassle than it was worth. He was also an alcoholic and has since died from his addiction. I have also experienced older men in positions of power behaving inappropriately towards me. One such individual, used to proclaim that he loved me when I encountered him at events and kiss me on the lips. I tried on a number of occasions to propose collaborations with his campaigning organisation but was fobbed off onto a junior member of staff and given minimal support and no promotion of the research booklet I produced – he clearly didn’t “love” me that much. I later found out that he was an old school chum of Boris Johnson when he was one of 30 attendees at his Covid-era wedding party. Another time, a privileged, white man and emeritus professor of philosophy who is regularly interviewed on radio 4 and somebody I looked up to and respected, deeply disappointed me by defending sexual harassment and mysoginist behaviour. He advised me to stop calling out incidents of street harassment on social media because it was “instinctive male behaviour” which is “to be expected” and I should “take it as a compliment” because I am an attractive young woman. I was incredulous and disgusted that someone who was so intelligent could be legitimising and condoning this sort of behaviour. But maybe I was naïve to have thought otherwise – I lost all respect for him after that conversation. But sadly, this is not a lone opinion, I have had both men and women who comment on my posts telling me that I should take harassment as “a compliment” and be “grateful” for the attention, or told that my actions in calling out abuse was “stopping their sons from getting a girlfriend”. I frequently get accused of lying and “attention seeking” for calling out incidents when they occur. There have also been incidents of people unfollowing myself and other female activists for speaking out about their experiences of sexual harassment, with a Victorian-era “women should been seen and not heard” mentality resulting in the silencing of those “outspoken women”. Personally, I have been called misogynistic insults, such as, “Prima Donna”, “Little Madam”, “Attention seeker”, “spoilt brat” and “self-publicist” by fellow campaigners, for the crime of making my voice heard above the crowd. Whereas I have witnessed male activists applauded for making virtue signalling tweets and posts about gender equality, when in reality, they have neglected opportunities to platform or support their female counterparts in any meaningful way and engaged in sexually predatory behaviour themselves. When women speak out and campaign against sexual harassment, online or in public spaces, we are demanding one thing: that we are treated with the respect we deserve. I’ve also received all manner of lewd DMs and comments on my posts, including rape threats and misogynistic trolling. One article published by Guid Fawkes (an alt-right blog) titled ‘EU Supergirl’s Randy Sugar Daddy’ which insinuated I was prostituting myself for crowdfunder donations, led to a spate of trolls calling me a “sex doll” and accusing me of prostitution. I have also had men on Twitter, mocking me for a congenital eye condition (Duane’s Syndrome) speculating about how they would like to “bend it in to [me]” another one responding that they wouldn’t be able to perform unless I closed my “skelly eyes”. During my tour of the EU27 in 2019 (funded by a ‘Democracy Needs Imagination’ grant from the European Cultural foundation), I experienced street harassment in all but one country (Sweden, where I was visited for less than 24 hours). From groups of men shouting hello across the road to wolf whistling and swearing at me, the constant nature of the macho behaviour wore me down: It made me feel singled-out, isolated, intimidated, self-conscious, anxious and fearful as I travelled alone. At the time (November 2019), I had a self-proclaimed “feminist rant” about the issue after a particularly horrific experience in Greece, and I was shocked by the response it received (193 comments on the original post – mostly from women sharing similar stories or men expressing their despair that this behaviour still occurs in the 21st century) – this helped me feel validated and not personally to blame. In my blog post I wrote, ‘I in no way want to single out Greece here, as the inherent societal misogyny which leads men to believe they are somehow entitled to sexually harass women in the streets is endemic across Europe. Ljubljana, Brussels and Frankfurt have also been especially bad in my personal experience, but Athens has been notably worse than anything I have endure before: More persistent, more aggressive and more frequent. In addition to the standard level of cat-calling and wolf-whistling that I anticipate everywhere; “Hello miss, how are you?”, “Hey! You! Hey! You! Listen to me! Hey! You’re beautiful!”, “Slow down sexy!”, etc. etc. I also had 3 particularly unpleasant experiences in less than 48 hours: Firstly, a guy following me down a road, for a good few minutes, walking by my side and constantly pestering me “Hello! Where are you going?” Etc. The second, a man stopping in the street looking me up and down and saying, “Oh God. Oh shit.” Thirdly, a man leering extremely close to my face and blowing kisses at me. I’ve also had comments shouted at me in at least 3 languages (English, French and Greek). When I have met people on my travels and I’ve told them I am travelling alone, they have expressed genuine shock at the prospect of a young woman travelling solo across Europe. Likewise: I’ve had numerous emails/messages from women telling me they think I am “brave” for travelling on my own and (this is the worst thing) also saying they would be too scared to travel alone. Perhaps I am “brave”, or perhaps stupid, maybe I’m just determined to live my dreams and deliver on my project for the European Cultural Foundation: which involves sitting in the streets of all 28 capital cities in the EU countries. And I will continue to sketch the beauty of Europe regardless of unwanted attention from guys. But it pisses me off that it changes my behaviour & stops other women from living freely. Nothing terrible has happened on my travels but the threat and associated fear of this constant street harassment is very real. I have been assaulted in the past: by a naked man, whilst sketching on a beach alone, aged 14. The memory of this trauma is always on the back of my mind when I am accosted in the streets by men. And as a woman, I hate the thought that other women, their fathers, brothers, partners, friends, etc. fear them travelling alone. So I implore them not to let it stop them living their lives – and show, by example, that a woman can be fearless in the face of this situation… But I will tell you the truth of how it makes you feel deep down; Scared, intimidated, angry, vulnerable, guilty and self-conscious. It’s not a compliment. It’s not acceptable. And it has to stop. I for one am sick of it.’ This is not just an issue which affects European countries, I have experiences incidents of street harassment across the UK. In my home city of Sheffield, walking to an open mic night during daylight hours, a drunk man made a lewd comment about my guitar and grabbed my arm. In Oxford, I sat sketching on a bench on a sunny afternoon, in a busy public space. A man sat next to me, slowly edging closer to me, he then began rolling a spliff on the bench and touched my bare thigh. Whilst out jogging, i’ve had all manner of things yelled at me from men in cars. One man pulled up next to me, told me he had seen me out running locally with my dog (who I didn’t have with me at the time) and asked me for my number, like I was a drive-by pick up, taking advantage of an opportunity when I didn’t have a large Alsation to protect me. I am eternally grateful to my dog, who can smell alcohol/drugs, for barking aggressively at men who have approached me, but I shouldn’t need a large dog with me to feel safe on the streets. Women should be allowed to walk home without fearing for their lives. This should be a basic right in any decent society. And women shouldn’t be victim blamed for male violence, as I have been. “What were you wearing?”, “I told you not to go out alone.” Etc. Women should not be punished and restricted by the actions of men. We should be allowed to sketch on the beach if we want, we should be allowed to wear whatever clothes and make-up we like without worrying about the unwanted attention we will receive, we should be allowed to travel without a chaperone, we should have the right to walk home without being attacked. I thought this behaviour was only directed at me because I was a lone female. But on a holiday in the UK with my boyfriend, I still experienced a number of incidents of men shouting at me as they drove or walked past, and a man looking me up and down then telling my boyfriend that he’s “a very lucky guy”. Which could have been interpreted as a compliment, except that being objectified isn’t really a compliment. In the fight against street harassment and sexual violence, we need men to take women’s side. And men need to listen and understand the situation from the woman’s perspective, and act to remediate the inequality. It’s not good enough to sit back and say “well I’ve never behaved like this myself” – we need your help and support. The men who respond with the comment “NOT ALL MEN” are contributing to the problem in the same way that the “ALL LIVES MATTER” brigade contribute to racial inequality. Women face this constant abuse and harassment, living their lives in fear and anxiety, suffering the consequences of systemic gender inequality from birth, and are then accused by a mysoginistic culture of being “weak”, “fragile”, “lesser beings” than men. Men need to gain more awareness of their privilege and take action to address gender inequality which still proliferates throughout our patriarchal society. If home is somewhere you feel safe and secure, my country certainly doesn’t feel like a place that I can call home. But then I wonder where in the world does feel safe for women and girls?

Pippa

Got catcalled cycling home by some men in a car, shouting something about being someone’s sister ‘is that your sister’. I didn’t understand the statement but it was clearly a man trying to exert power over me and make me feel uncomfortable.

Just 16 but fed up

Anyone else experienced the kind of harassment you feel you can’t object to? The kind you’re expected to take as a compliment? I frequently have men of varying ages (all adults though) come up to me and tell me I’m pretty, gorgeous, dressed up like I’m going somewhere and the person I’m seeing must be lucky etc. I feel like I can’t object because the words coming out of their mouths seem nice, but the situation can feel threatening despite that. Also, I’m hoping they don’t realise this because I’m tall, but I’m only 16 so they really shouldn’t be talking to me, and this started when I was 11. Even if I were a grown woman I don’t think it should be ok. Random men shouldn’t have the right to comment on my appearance whenever they feel like it. It shouldn’t always be on me to gauge the potential danger of these situations. How should you react to this kind of behaviour? Does anyone have any good responses? Girls my age have told me I’m overreacting, that they enjoy this kind of comment. I’m tired of just ignoring it but I don’t know what to say. I hate that my first instinct is always to say thank you- why are women taught to be so fucking polite all the time?

Ada

My mum doesn’t believe that girls are sexually harassed on the way to school unless they “wear short skirts” and are “looking for attention”. This is why I could never tell her when I was harrassed by boys in my school because she would just blame me for their behaviour, when all I wanted was for them to leave me alone. I tried to explain that this happens to girls and women no matter what we are wearing and we don’t need to have done or said anything to attract unwanted attention, but I don’t think she believes me. I want to buy a copy of “Everyday Sexism” the book and leave it where she can read it.

Claire

Walking home from the shops yesterday, I passed a couple of men. As soon as I’d overtaken them, one yelled at me, “I’ll take your bags from you, you little whore”. I stopped and turned to face them, and yelled back not to call me a whore and not to threaten me. Then I turned and walked on, shaking, while the pair shouted more misogynistic and threatening stuff at me. I had tuned out the content by this point. Confronting them didn’t feel safe, but I chose to, partly because of my anger in the heat of the moment, and partly because I absolutely hate silently submitting to this kind of abuse. It’s lose-lose; either put up and shut up, or risk further violence by showing some resistance and standing up for oneself.

anon, via email

I was walking home this evening (England at 7pm so dark, lit by Street lights) by myself after my job at a secondary school (I’m 24). I was wearing trainers, a long loose skirt, a big coat and my hair was up in a bun. Ahead of me, walking slowly, was a group of two men and a woman in their mid 50s, smoking and chatting. Another woman ran past them on a jog, to which they responded by clapping and cheering. I thought, well they might have had a bit to drink and maybe it’s just funny. I went to overtake, walking quickly with my head facing straight, out in the road so as not to be too close. Just after I passed, I hear the woman say ‘Too young, Dean. You need to just say hi instead of doing that.’ I cringed and didn’t look round to see what he had done. It brought up the familiar ‘dirty’ feeling, as if I needed a shower, that I get whenever something like this happens. Even though of course no woman ‘asks for it’ in her dress sense, what on earth can I do to avoid being viewed as a sex object and victimised walking to my own house..?? It is literally the act of being female; clothing makes very little difference when it comes to the sexist, inconsiderate and frankly disgusting male gaze.