Street Harrassment
 

Have you experienced this? Tell your stories here. :)

Also - there's an app called hollaback For smartphones where you can post a pick and/or document incidents of street harrassment.

Really I meant any sort of street harrassment. Thanks for pointing out my lack of clarity!

If this is about harassment about being gay, then yes but only one incident I can remember. I was at a restaurant on a date, sitting at the bar just talking. I noticed a woman continually staring at me, but just ignored her. After we were done, my date left and I got in the car and started driving. I felt someone staring at me, and looked over and the same woman from the restaurant was yelling at me in her car. She kept level with me and looked so evil. This was the first time in my life that I felt hated. I will never forget that.

Other than that, stares and such but nothing ever comparable to that, thank goodness!

I also developed early, and after being followed home several times while riding my bike home from school, my Mom had to drive me every day.

Never for being a Lesbian though, even when I am visable with my Kasey.

One of my experiences happened in 2002 during Prop 22. I had a no on Prop 22 sign in my truck window and I had pulled into a gas station to get gas. This guy was behind me and I guess I pulled into the pump stall he wanted and he got pissed. When I got out of my truck he started yelling at me and called me a f**king dyke and stated that I was going to hell. Mind you he is doing all of this with his teenage son in the car who look very embarrassed. I calmly looked at him and stated.....well if heaven is full of narrow minded jerks like you I would rather go to hell......and at that point I walked in the store and he just stood there not knowing what to say.

I am glad its getting better and better everyday but we still have a long way to go !!!

I get harassment a lot. From guys photographing my cleavage in the tube, to men asking me out on dates, to men saying 'cheer up love' or 'smile' or 'mmm, hot' or 'nice breasts'. It's all really offensive.

I've never noticed any special treatment while I was with a partner, except when I was with more feminine women, then men tend to stare..

Moving to London was an eye opener! Men just could not look at my face. They were completely fixated by my boobs. Since I've become a native however I find that less and less, probably because I cover up a lot more now.

The freakiest thing to ever happen, it was the end of winter and everyone was rugged up still. I was wearing an outfit that covered everything but my ankles. So my ankles were showing and that meant I got wolf-whistled all the way down the street!! Unbelievable!

Since I've been with my husband men are far more subtle. They try to catch my eye but that's about it. Once a man tried to dirty dance with me not realising my husband was there. The minute he knew he stopped and offered my husband an apology, the cheek!

i believe everyone has or can be a target of street harassment for any reason

but that shows the offender is a true coward people feel mightier in groups with numbers opposed to those individually standing on their own standing up for themselves their own differences

it's hate it doesn't matter from who or what it's just hate

it can be anywhere it's even with in our own community

A few times I've had some not so pleasant experiences in public places. Occasionally the questioning of "what are you" which then leads to really uncomfortable comments sometimes a mostly empty threat. While other times the person thinks they're being "friendly," "flattering," or "informative." The worst is people who start to say lewd shit because they think its "hot that I don't know what you are." Fuck off...

But those occasions just made me feel uncomfortable, versus the few occasions in recent years where I've had vans or cars follow me at night, whether they're trying to yell something at me or not. Somehow when you throw a vehicle into the mix of the "are you a boy/girl" taunts it somehow makes it freakier.

While I was a teenager I had similar shit happen as well with vans/cars at night. I had some really close calls as a teen, one night having to jump my friend's backyard fence and knock on the back door cause some asshole in a van decided to follow me. Dude was already up to the fence by the time he answered the door. Same night I ended up clocking another guy who decided to make some fucked up remarks while I was waiting for the bus home. It was a horrible night and freaked the hell out of me, and I'm not even sure why it happened. Then again, I also know some xy guys who have been followed by strange cars as teenagers for no reason, narrowly escaping because another car or person came along. I guess the reason I think of that is even as a teenager I was pretty masculine, so it makes it hard for me to tell what the intent was of people like the creepy van guy above, whether he perceived me as male, female, gay etc.

As they held me down, he talked of killing me, of teaching me a lesson, I was told I would be left without a hair on my head. It seems if I were going to act like a man, it was their intent to have me look like one. At least that is what they proclaimed as tufts of my hair surrounded me on the pavement beneath my forced resting place.

I had been asked to meet a friend at a bar. She was married and she and her husband were on the verge of divorce and she wanted to talk. She had chosen this particular bar as it was conveniently located between our homes, and she had frequented it a few years earlier. She assured me it was a nice, quiet place. We could have a couple of drinks, talk, and be left to our own device.

I arrived earlier than she. The parking lot was studded with motorcycles and trucks whose paint jobs had seen better says. I felt a small sense of foreboding, but I soldiered on. I entered the bar, feeling as though every head turned in my direction. I stood there, aware I was completely exposed, as my eyes scanned the room for somewhere, anywhere, I could sit that would take me away from the stares and whispers of the disbelieving crowd.
I was in their place, the nerve of me.

I opted for a booth in the back, I sat against the wall. Were someone to approach me, I at least wanted to see them coming. Unfortunately, this booth, was near the men’s restroom and really not at all where I should have been. I should have been in my car, calling my friend to arrange another meeting place, but I stayed, for her, I stayed.

It was clear now my presence was something quite remarkable to those in the bar. Each turn on the pool table did not seem to be able to be performed without first glaring at me as they bent down to make their shot. The men muttering something to their audience, their women giggling and all but pointing. Yet, I stayed. Where was she?

Too self-conscious to order a drink, too anxious to move from the safety of this booth, I waited. The longer I stayed, the louder and more outspoken the bar patrons became. I defiantly returned the gazes of some. I pretended to take great interest in the all but wasted candle that sat alone in the middle of the table. Anything, to appear undaunted.
Not typically one to fidget, I fidgeted.

It had been only a few minutes, but it seemed hours. She would soon be here and for some reason I thought that would make everything alright. As if just the presence of her would show these people I was not a freak. I was not something of which to be frightened. I was not there to compromise their prejudices, nor their women.

I became painfully aware how very much I needed to use the restroom. What to do? I somehow knew were I to make my way to the ladie’s room, it would invite unwelcome and belittling slurs. I knew were I to enter the men’s room, I would flat-out have menacing company. I opted not to go at all, but my body knew not that option.

I slid from my booth, heading for the ladie’s room. As suspected, this caused others great glee. They were emboldened and made no effort to mutter any longer. Their hurtful words trailed after me as I made my way through the bathroom door. As I hovered over the seat in the stall, I heard the door open. I was terrified and wondered how long I might be able to stay in this little space. What awaited me if, and when, I was to open the stall door. It was ridiculous really. Standing in there, thinking about never leaving, considering options that were nonsensical and fostered by fear.

I opened the stall door to find one of their women leaning against a sink. She was tall, and had she not followed what I was certain was a path of hedonism and debauchery, she might have been pretty. She stared at me. I looked back and tried to offer a smile. I moved to a sink to wash my hands. She spoke. She assured me these guys were just drunk and nothing but all talk, just having fun. She told me her sister was gay and she loved her sister. It seemed such an odd, one-sided conversation. She, telling me these things, me, wanting to get away. She reached out and touched my arm. I was so taken aback I nearly fell yet I stood there, paralyzed. It was this moment another of the insulting party entered the room. There we were, me, with what I was sure was horror written all over me, and she, staring at me, her hand resting on my arm. The new arrival turned immediately and was surely returning to those men. I could only guess what she was to tell them. Was this woman, the woman touching me, brave enough to tell the truth?

I had to get out of there. My friend would have to understand. I made my way out the bathroom door. The pool players were now in a circle whispering and once again, all heads turned my direction as I headed for the front door. I exited the building and moved quickly to the safety of my car. I almost made it too.

I was grabbed from behind. I could smell the sour beer and cigarettes as he accused me of trying to ‘fuck’ his girl. I wanted to defend myself but I knew. I knew it would not matter what I said. I had this coming from the time I stepped in that place. It was inevitable. I figured they would beat me up and I would go on my way. It had happened before, probably would happen again, and I knew that while painful, and not just for injury sake, I would recover.

I was cast to the ground. I saw the gleam of metal as the sun found the knife held in his hand. There were so many of them. Some just held me down, urging their friend onward. Some touched me, asking me if I liked it, assuring me their touch was what I had needed all my life. A couple just stood idly by, watching the show. I hated them the most, the watchers, too afraid to participate, too afraid to help.

I was now certain this was to be the end of me. I attempted to ready my mind for the last breath I was to take. I had done nothing but be me. I had done nothing but come to meet a friend. I had done nothing, and with so many surrounding me, there was nothing I could do.

He brought the knife close to my face. I looked into his eyes. If he were going to kill me, he was going to remember me. I remember thinking how important that was for me for some reason. I wanted to try to make him know me before he ended me. I became obsessed with this thought and it almost made me laugh aloud.

The knife found my hair. He began sawing at it, scattering handfuls of it to the wind. Telling me maybe if I would made ugly I might not go around trying to hit on women that didn’t belong to me. Still terrified, I came to understand that perhaps I was not to die this day.

Sometime during this haircut, my friend arrived. I don’t really remember as my thoughts were elsewhere. She knew one of these men from her days at this place. She convinced them to stop, to let me be. I was her friend and therefore I was ‘cool’. They moved away a bit, making certain to spit on me as they realized their fun was over. She helped me to my feet, dazed and exhausted, I could barely stand. I was bloody, battered, and alive. My hair, fluttered about the parking lot, as if little pieces of my person I would never get back.

My friend helped me into my car. She wanted to take me to the police. She wanted these men prosecuted. I did not. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be as far away from every living being I could. I wanted to be somewhere different, someone different. But wasn’t being someone different what had caused this to begin with? She did not want to let me drive but I assured her with the exception of some scrapes and bruises, and a truly bad haircut, I would be fine. I just needed to be left alone.

As I started my car, and pulled from the parking spot, movement in one of the trucks caught my eye. It was the woman from the bathroom. She sat alone. I could see tears in here red and swollen eyes. As I passed, her lips formed the words “I’m sorry”. I thought of our moment in the restroom, and not only did I believe her, I felt as though she had the worst end of this whole thing. After all, I could walk away, I didn‘t feel as though she felt she could, and that thought, hurt me more than anything those men might have done.

WOW..W.M.M

Feel bad for ya..
I never had anything happen to me like that..Mostly i hear the comments but i have also noticed that the people that make the remarks are surrounded by people {their friends?}..What is the sense of looking like a tough guy if no one is around to hear-see it..Bullies travel in pacts and not buy themselves which brings me back to someone has to see them be the "Tough Guy"..

s..

I've been the object of unwanted sexual attention from men since my earliest memories. Stares, offensive comments, daily verbal rape, and hungry hands. You name it, and I've experienced it. It's sooooooo much better now that I'm nearly 50, but I still catch more than my share of disgusting sucking noises and threatening cat calls. Do they think they're complimenting me? I'm always surprised that I haven't aged out yet.

I've been harassed on the street for being a lesbian, but I've never felt as endangered by homophobia as I have from just being female.

this is just one definition I found - from stopstreetharrassment.org:

Street harassment is any action or comment between strangers in public places that is disrespectful, unwelcome, threatening and/or harassing and is motivated by gender. In countries like India and Bangladesh, it’s termed “eve teasing,” and in countries like Egypt, it’s called “public sexual harassment.” Street harassment is a human rights issue because it limits women’s ability to be in public as often or as comfortably as most men.

Types: It ranges from leers, whistles, honks, kissing noises, and non-sexually explicit evaluative comments, to more insulting and threatening behavior like vulgar gestures, sexually charged comments, flashing, and stalking, to illegal actions like public masturbation, sexual touching, assault, and murder.

Gender-based street harassment can intersect with racism, homophobia and transphobia, classism, and/or ableism (as explored in Chapter 3 of the Stop Street Harassment book) to create multi-layered harassment.

Age: Street harassment often begins around puberty. In a 2008 study of 811 women conducted by Stop Street Harassment, almost 1 in 4 women had experienced street harassment by age 12 (7th grade) and nearly 90% by age 19. While street harassment is most frequent for teenagers and women in their 20s, the chance of it happening never goes away and women in their 80s have shared stories.

I have been harassed but not for being trans so I voted no.

StarryEyes,
I may be reading too much into what you wrote but I think she wanted your date. Yeah, she probably hated you and was really projecting that hate. And it might have something to do with your sexuality. But it might have to do with her sexuality as well.

WomenMoveMe, what a horrible and powerful story. Butch women get the brunt of the abuse for not being 'feminine' and effeminate men for not being masculine. It's horrid and ugly.

I used to make out with my GF in her car. I was 18, she was 26, I was attending Humboldt State in Nor Cali. One hot and heavy night, I kept hearing someone shouting something. After a while I realized it was some jocky lil shit yelling "DYKE!" We ignored him. A few nights later, he threw a tennis ball at my GF's car. I looked up and saw that he had about 4 guys with him. They tried to hide in the shadows when I got out.
I reported the harassment, he got a reprimand. A while later, there was an incident with a stranger asleep in my dorm room. Apparently, he was drunk, walked onto the campus and yelled out "Who's the finest chick on campus!" His idea was to seduce the finest chick on campus. Someone...I wonder whom...told him I was and sent him to my room. Mind you, I was not known as the finest chick but as a lesbian who was friendly with the hippies and scorned the jocky lil shits. Everyone heard about that story. I pointed the lil shit out to all who would listen. He didn't come back the next semester though I don't know why.
That was the only lesbian related harassment. Many other issues. Usually they involve being followed by men in grocery stores and what not. I find looking them in the eye with my patented Mom-look-of-death-and-nut-shriveling and ask, "What do you want from me?" leaves them speechless and they go away. Except a few, they all usually lower their eyes and walk away.

i have not been harassed a lot for being queer, but i have been for being a woman. the street harassment was especially bad when i was in undergrad at florida state...i'm not sure why (i've never been thin or cute, and it absolutely had nothing to do with what i was wearing - i dressed very modestly even before i became muslim). it was practically a daily thing, probably exacerbated by the fact that i've always walked and taken the bus so i've been more exposed i guess. it really got to me. when i first converted to islam and began covering, it nearly stopped - the only difference in what i wore was that i covered my hair, which marked me as religious. i did get harassed by strangers and the police a few times for being muslim but it was much less often. since i stopped wearing hijab recently i've gotten catcalls a few times but nothing on the level of the daily sexual harassment i used to deal with (i live near the university of kansas now, so i wonder if it's a geographical thing).

I thought that your statement was just about your racism but then I googled and did indeed see Latin men in grocery stores--Look at this one, near the mangos!


http://blog.mlive.com/annarbornews/2...RKET%20SML.jpg

That smile surely means he's groped someone in canned goods!

Phew when I started thinking about it there have been multiple incidents from the general breast staring to being out right asked my bra size to having breasts "accidently" touched or brushed against. I also have found that men will be very inappropriate to waitresses. Some of the worse comments came when I worked as a waitress in a restaurant and also when I worked in a casino. Men seem to think that they have total freedom to make all sorts of comments.

During a street demo for gay rights a woman pulled up in her truck and told us we were all going to hell (she had a probably six or seven year old little girl in the truck with her). I have also been yelled at when entering a gay club from passersby on the street. I have been refused service in restaurants, too. I have also been verbally and physically attacked by family members. urgh. I don't really want to think about it.

I found it all humilitating, disgusting, and ugly. The highest number of incidences are based on my female gender but the most scary and hurtful were based on being gay.

Melissa

over and over
 

I took the poll to ask about harrassment related to gay bashing.

The answer is yes.......over and over again.

I have been beaten up many times, mostly by police officers (men and women). Also by straight men. The beatings are not just black eyes or scratches, but many broken bones, a gun to my head, dragged down the street and other such incidents.

I am strong and a survivor. The hardest part for me is seeing what it does to my family. They are afraid for me, and when incidents happen....they are consumed.

I do not like that who I am causes them so much worry, stress and sadness.

FishIV

...
 

I have had varing degrees of some kind of harrasment or the other over the years,some as little as looks that could stop a clock to down right hate filled comments.Once I went into a store by my house to get ciggies when I smoked.That night I was going to a party adn was dressed in leather pants and jacket with a sequined(sp)tux shirt,any way I went int o get my ciggies and theire was a line at the counter..I took my place in line to pay for them.It was like the parting of the red sea as everyone steped back then the guy at the counter told me how much they were,I paid for the ciggies and left
so as I left some guy said f-in bitch..I must have felt mighty shure of myself caouse I turned to him and said..Dont you ever forget it either!I then went to my car,camly lit up,then drove off.Next time I went in for anything I got an appologie from the owner for the comment made,I accepted his appologie and never had another problem from anyone about it.But,I have been turned down for jobs for being a butch,I have been fired forthe same reason after working at the place for over a year with a spotless record and glowing quarterlie reports when a new manager came on bord the buisness.When I have things like this happen I dont rollover and play dead but I know im a bigger person that they are,so I do my best to move on no mater how hard it is..Recantlya s tonight I had to deal with a bathroom issue at the pool hall,I walked into the room and went into a stall,the two 20 something kids snickered and one said to the other ..I wonder if she stands to pee?About that time one of my cronnies came in and herd the comment,she told them to growup and act like they had some sence and not plain hateful and stupid..needless to say they left quickly.

CRAIG!!!! You go girl! Big hugs... if I am ever out your way, you owe me a dance ;)

To WomenMoveMe
 

I have no words ..........
I do however feel many things mostly Dark about what happened to U and I am trying to shake them as not to sink to the level of your attackers........ I am very Sorry this happened ......... My hopes are one day we arrive at the Higher Power makes no mistakes and she made you and I

I am not sure how to take this. May I ask what exactly you meant by that statement?

WMW, I'm so saddened by your story. I have chosen this particular part to quote because it resonates within me, for some time I wondered if anyone could understand it.

I recall being knocked to the ground and catching myself by my hands. One of the two had grabbed me from behind unexpectedly and threw me down. I remember getting upset because I landed on the side of the street which was covered in gravel. Resulting in small rocks cutting the palms of my hands and cutting through my jeans. I quickly got back on my feet and turned around to face my assaulter and attempt to figure out what the hell was going on.

I remember seeing two of them as I turned, I couldn't see their faces because it was late at night and the street chase had led us to a dead end. I was more worried about the friend getting dragged out of the car and laying on the ground with three females pounding on her. Yet before I could even register the situation one of their fists landed right in my face. It lit a fire inside me; rage fueled by anger, frustration and hurt. The adrenaline pulsed through me and I began to throw punches. I recall the onslaught of fists hitting my face but at that moment I could not register the pain. All I heard were the taunts.

"Want to be a man? We'll show you."
"Fight like a man if you want to be one."
"You fucking dyke."

It was repetitive, then again, I cant imagine people like that having much more to say. But I do remember the feeling of humiliation, how dare these strangers do this? Not knowing me, let alone having any reason to do this. I threw harder punches and did everything in my power to stand strong. I would not allow them to put me down, I couldn't - I just couldn't. We boxed, punch after punch. One swung, the next swung and I would come back and swing.

I'm not sure how long that went on for but by the time they all ran back to their vehicle I remember going back to ours. The friend who had gotten dragged out managed toclimb back into the passenger seat. I jumped into the backseat, locked my door only to turn around and find my friend's little.brother beside me crying. His lip had been cut open and blood was spilling out of his mouth. Apparently another male had opened the backdoor and punched him in the mouth so hard that his braces cut right through his lip.

I remember blocking out his sobs and the commotion in the car to simply tell the driver to get us out of there, now. As she pulled out of the dead end, my adrenaline slipped out of my system and the pain hit me like a wall. But the physical pain was secondary. The absolute worse damage had been done to my pride, my self-esteem and my Psyche.

I remained silent the rest of the trip, not saying a word. I snuck into my house as quiet as possible. Went into the bathroom and washed my face carefully. I laid on my bed and tried to fight the tears yet failed. Staring up at the ceiling I cried silently until I fell into a deep sleep.

The next day I had to face the day. I walked out of my room yo face my parents, who took one look at me and were left speechless. The look of horror and concern is forever burned into my mind. I walked into the restroom to face myself in the mirror. The entire right side of my face was simply one huge bruise, along with half my mouth swollen to three times its size. I could not open my right eye at all because it was swollen shut, completely. The left eyebrow was now scabbed over. I felt so much anger, and shame, overcome me. Like a tidal wave washing over me, as I struggled to find air. I contacted my job and took a week leave. I couldn't face the world.

That has been the worst, physical harassment I have encountered. The stares, the whispers and random insults are part of my everyday encounters.

Do I face harassment? Everyday of my life.

But not once will I allow it to silence me again of bring me shame.

when i was very young i was working at a clothing mfg'ing company. I soon became the compnay expediter. part of my job was to go to every foreman and push certain orders threw the production line. I have always been a friendly person and i didnt run around screaming it nor did i look like i was gay. This compnay hired manily italian ppl .. one year i was w. my g.f i just started dating , a tall handsome black butch, one night we both went into Bostons st, anthony feast. I had seen many of my co workers
but i stayed to myself. That next monday morning in work the men in the pressing room began yelling slurs at me about being a nigger lover etc, ( no offense ) wich fllowed later on that week w. spitting in my hair and ob my back. then my boss. got a letter someone sent using letters from a magazine saying i was a lesbian. then graffiti at the apartment i was living at. all over teh sidewalks and porches. of course i became scared,being a small femme i felt vulnerable.i went to my boss to help me,then one night, on my last visit to teh pressing room, for orders to be shipped, 6 men cornered me onteh steps, they grabbed eachothers wrists so i couldnt get passed ,, they were saying all kinds of dirty things @ me, and spitting ,, they started to close in ,, i had nowhere to run, then i heard the elevator door open ,, i screamed, and on of the foreman came into teh stairwell and seen what they were doing to me, he broke up the men ,, and they threaten to rape me, i quitt that night and moved, the next week it being the first, my boss called me up pleading to go back to work there , he said i suspended afew w orkers, that were responsibale forthat treatment ,, i declined knowing ,, it would have never been safe, I still to this day wont go where there r men who gather.