Athens GA, Atlanta, Baltimore, Chicago, Cleveland, Columbia MO, Columbus, Denver, Des Moines, Duke University, NC, Durham & Chapel Hill, East Lansing, Flagstaff, AZ, Houston, Iowa City, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Lubbock TX, Manhattan KS, Muncie IN, New Orleans, New York City, Oneonta, Pittsburgh, Plattsburgh, Providence, Richmond VA, San Fernando Valley, San Francisco, Twin Cities, West Georgia (University)
I was running down East Carson Street, and as I passed either 7th or 8th Street a car was sitting there waiting to turn. I ran behind him to avoid his path, and he rolled down his window and started screaming “YO, GET IN MY CAR!” in an extremely threatening way, not at all in a normal catcall-manner, and began laying on his horn for a good 10 seconds. I was so shocked by his tone that I thought maybe this other woman near the intersection was his girlfriend and they had been fighting.
To make a long story short, he kept making loops around the block, getting back onto East Carson, slowing down when he was near me and staring with his window down. He eventually sped up out of nowhere and partially turned onto Terminal Way or Third Street, cutting off my sidewalk route with his car. He had his car window down (it was about 15 degrees out at the time) and made eye contact with me as he blocked my way. I sprinted the fuck away, hid in Domino’s Pizza for a bit, and then talked to the police.
I was walking up my block after grabbing some groceries when a man in a tan Nissan sedan turned onto my street and said “HEY! What’s your name?” I stopped walking and told him to fuck off.
He then asked me for my phone number, and I told him to stop harassing me. He laughed, and then gave me the finger and called me a ‘cracker bitch.’ Really? Two seconds ago he was hitting on me. Next, he rolled down his window further and spat at my feet. I crosses the street to continue on my way, and that’s when he commented on my ‘fat ass’ multiple times.
“Lose some weight, fat ass.”
I took my phone out of my pocket to get a photo of him as he was laughing at me and he said, “Go ahead, call the cops. I’ll wait.” He started to park his car. I snapped a few pictures and then he took his phone out and started recording me. At this point we were less than five feet from my house. Every time I tried to walk away he drove to match my pace.
Another man walking his dog was about to pass me and I asked for his help. I told him this guy in the car wouldn’t leave me alone and the man suggested I find a store to hide in and he walked away. The harasser kept laughing. I have never felt so trapped literally feet from my own home. I finally gave up and walked up the stairs to my house. I refuse to alter my actions in fear.
As soon as the harasser drove away the man walking his dog knocked on my door to make sure I was alright, and shared the harassers license plate number (JNM7174), which I appreciated.
This was the creepiest altercation I’ve had since I moved here three years ago. The harasser seemed to do it for his own entertainment, had clearly gotten away with it before, and knew the cops wouldn’t do anything if I called them. I wish I had.
Walking down the street near my apt with my mom, a guy wearing a black hoodie was walking down the opposite side of the street and kept staring at me, when I finally got to the end of the street I heard my mom say “Is there a problem ?” , I turned around and observed the guy now staring at my mom, he paused and then asked “Is that your daughter ?” , my mom awkwardly said “yea…..”, then he just continued his stroll and didn’t say anything else.
Hollaback has teamed up with Cornell University’s ILR School professor Beth Livingston to study the experiences and impacts of street harassment internationally, through cooperation with Hollaback’s many local activism sites.
What are we doing? We are launching online surveys in countries on six continents, translated into multiple languages. Links to these surveys will be tweeted, blogged, facebook’ed and emailed worldwide with the hope of gathering data on street harassment that can be used to better understand its impacts in an international context. Links specific to your location are provided below.
What can you do to help? Complete a survey! When you see the survey, complete it and send the link on to others who may or may not be familiar with the movement. The more respondents—men and women—the better.
What can you expect? The survey asks about demographics, experiences with harassment, reactions to it, and other questions. It is completely anonymous. Summary reports and press releases can be expected early in 2015.
I was watching a female punk band at a bar which is supposed to be a lesbian bar, but this night there were a lot of dudes.
I was standing toward the back of the crowd with my roommate, when I felt someone touch me on the sides of my stomach. At the exact same time some other random man was trying to light my cigarette. I got swooped by creeps on all sides. I turned to stare down the groper and told him to stay away from me. He looked really amused and shrugged his shoulders. More laser eyes from me. I turn back to watch the music, and he fucking did it again.
I ran up to the stage and asked the guitarist if I could make an announcement. I told the audience that there was a creep in the back touching people and that he needed to stop. Some shouts of support came from the audience. I didn’t leave right away, but I felt shaken by it for the rest of the night. I saw him on the way out and he looked far less amused.
I was standing on a corner around 9:30 after an exercise class fiddling with my bike, when two young-looking guys in a tan car rounded the corner. The guy in the passenger’s seat yelled “Yeah girl shake them titties.” I just can’t understand why people feel the need to shout things from a car. Plus it was dark and my bike was broken so I was feeling vulnerable about saying something back.
I had a class in the Cathedral of Learning that didn’t end until 9:50pm. I was waiting across the street at the corner for my boyfriend to come pick me up, just sitting on a ledge. At this point no one was really in my periphery or walking past me. Out of nowhere a guy sitting in the passenger’s seat of a car racing down Fifth Ave screams at me, “HEYYY SLUTTTT!!!!” I don’t care that I was sitting there in jeans and a sweatshirt with my backpack. Even if I were dressed up and on my way to a party, that’s so unbelievably and atrociously inappropriate. And that last word just kind of stood still in the air, and I was waiting for someone to just shoot it down or for a plane to gobble it up for me. But it just sank and poured itself all over me. And I began to question and doubt myself, my clothes, my posture, because it was the only thing I could think of to do.
I was walking to my place of work from class, both of which are in relatively very safe and even trendy spots of Oakland. I was about 50 feet from the entrance when, as cliche as it seems, I was passing a trio of construction workers. I had been facing straight ahead with my head down the entire time, when one of them calls out, “Why aren’t you smilin’, sweetie?” I ignore him and am ascending the staircase to the front door when I suddenly feel his presence (and that of his 2 buddies) extremely close behind me, asking, “Hey, where you off to? Going to get some coffee?” “NO” I said. “I’m going to fucking work.” I let the entry door shut between me and them and must have ran to the kitchen and down to the basement when I heard them approaching the counter. I hid down there for a solid 5-10 minutes, seriously shaken. Even when you’re SO close to safety, there is no way to explain HOW alone you feel when you’re being explicitly followed by a stranger. I felt absolutely cornered and terrifyingly small.