Inspired by the Egregiously Sexist Act thread, what have people shouted at you in public? Did it make any sense?
I’m male, and I’ve only had this happen twice.
Years ago, walking home from the grocery store at about ten at night: “Porto Rican!” (This was in Orange County, CA. I’m white. I wanted to shout, “It’s Puerto Rican, numbnuts!” but they were gone.)
Just last week: “Hey, queer! You need longer shorts!” (or “shirts!” – I wasn’t sure). I am gay and I was wearing shorts, but they were knee-length shorts. And I have very nice legs. Further, I was wearing a big ol’ dorky backpack and walking down the sidewalk in front of a large apartment complex, not far from other people walking dogs and such. It was about nine at night, in L.A.
I guess the moral is that in car culture, if you dare to walk while carrying something, your behavior must be censured in incomprehensible ways.
Let me set the scene for you. It’s the night before my wedding. The soon-to-be-Mrs-Tyner, my best man, a groomsman, and myself were at our reception venue, putting some finishing touches on the place. We rented the DJ in a box and had spent about an hour selecting songs and making a playlist, etc. It’s getting to be about midnight, and the venue is a block away from the only bar in town.
So we’re out in front of the building, winding down, about to head for home (us smokers were puffing away) when a pickup truck rolls by. About the time it gets to the end of the block, the window comes down, and a random, drunken chav inside yells “You got a nice ass!” at my lady, who is incidentally wearing a bright pink shirt with “Bride” printed boldly across it.
Now me, I had several ear surgeries as a child and as a result have some hearing loss, so although I could tell something was said, I wasn’t sure what.
My best man, though, heard just fine and, without missing a beat, belted out a “FUCK YOU” that reverberated through the alleys and streets of our one-horse (and a couple of mules) town. The driver sped away, and that was that.
When I was ten, a guy on a motorcycle yelled, “(Something) taco!” at me. I assume that he was referring to my vulva… Nice. I was ten, did I mention that???
Incident #1
I was walking down my own (residential) street in the middle of the day, and a car drove by with four teenage guys in it. One of them yelled SLUT! at me.
I was a little shocked, and then I was a little nervous when I realized the car stopped about 15 yards ahead of me and started to back up.
When they backed up to me, one of the guys said “I’m SO sorry ma’am. I thought you were someone else.”
I wish I had had the presence of mind to point out that it’s not nice to yell things out car windows at anyone … but I was pretty surprised about the whole thing.
Incident #2
Same street, just recently. I could see that there were a bunch of little kids hiding in the bushes in their front yard who seemed to be yelling things at people walking by. I couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly, but “rude comments” was the general tone.
When I walked by, they yelled “HEY LADY! I BET YOU … KISS YOUR HUSBAND!”
which was apparently the dirtiest thing they could think of.
I’ve been shouted at from cars many times, but I rarely can decipher what is said to me. That’s probably a good thing. I do remember one incident, though, that occurred in the 1980s, when I lived outside New York City. It wasn’t shouted from a car, but it was perhaps the NYC version of that. My mom and sister came to visit me, and we went into Manhattan. Remember, this was the 80s; I say that because for some reason, I had decided it would be a good idea to take my black jeans and dunk them into bleach so that they became sort of a dark gray streaked with that icky yellowish color jeans get when bleached. Anyway, we’re walking down Broadway or some similar street, and since it was the 80s, there were lots of homeless people hanging around in various states of consciousness. One of them was stumbling toward us, and he stopped and pointed at me and said, “Those pants make you look fat” and then continued on. My mom and sister thought it was so funny that he said that to me, but I was horrified, and for the rest of the day I was self-conscious about my pants which, I realized, DID make me look fat and were actually truly horrible. I never wore them again.
In high school, a bunch of us had parked our car and started walking to the movie theater when this carful of guys roars past us and I swear one of them screamed “GWAR!” Like, the band?
Anyway, the funny thing is, they obviously weren’t familiar with the area, because that part of the parking lot has no outlet. So they had to sheepishly drive back past us. (My boyfriend and I now call that kind of design a Dotard Trap, and they’re getting more and more common, which I hate.)
(1) In college, walking alone after dark through campus to the nearby strip of bars. I was wearing a lightweight jacket. Car goes by and guy yells, “NICE TITS!” Um, they weren’t (and still aren’t) so large as to be noticeable under a jacket. Obviously he just wanted to yell something.
(2) Also in college. I was at a house party, standing on the front porch talking to a female friend who had very long blond hair. Mine was short and dark. Car drives by and guy yells, “FUCK HER, I DID!!” Sorry, dude, I haven’t got the equipment . . .
(3) On a road trip out to Colorado. We’d stopped in a parking area near the highway to take a break and walk the dog. I was wearing a loose, billowy dress. Car drives by and guy yells, “LARDASS!” Why thank you, kind sir, for pointing out that I am overweight. I never would have known without your keen observation. :rolleyes:
I was sitting here thinking “I must be really oblivious or lucky, because no one ever shouts things at me”, but then I remembered one time in high school when a bunch of guys drove by and shouted something incomprehensible to me and the guys I was with. One of the guys flipped them off, and they backed up, jumped out of the car, and kicked/punched/roughed up one of the guys. It was so surreal (they didn’t hurt him much) that we stood around talking after they left about how weird it was. Five minutes later they CAME BACK with a pistol and hit the same guy (the mouthy one) about the head until they broke his nose and then sped off again. All this in a quiet residential neighborhood. It was bizarre.
I guess the moral to this story is that it is reasonable to feel threatened when someone yells at you through a car window. People that yell things out of cars aren’t likely to be the sort of person who will jump a complete stranger, but they are more likely to be that sort of person than, say, a given random person.
I could write a book, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll share some the absolute worst.
I was walking to work, and this guy slowed his car down next to me, and said something like “Hey baby,” or whatever. I tried to ignore him, but he kept driving alongside me and continued with the, “Hey, you look good,” and so forth. Finally, I gave in and acknowledged his idiocy by requesting that he please (I even used the word please) leave me alone. He couldn’t, it turns out! “Hey, I’m just trying to talk to you,” so I turned the corner, even though it’s not where I wanted to go, just to get away from him. He turned the corner too! What a coincidence that he’s heading right where I’m not headed. “Leave me alone,” I said again. Then he made with a series of inquiries as to whether or not I have an attitude, or if I’m stuck up, if I have a man, etc. The guy followed me for a considerable amount of time harassing me, and it was starting to piss me off quite thoroughly. I then did a 180 in order to escape, and this motherfucker does an illegal u-turn in the middle of the street so that he could keep following me. I was left with little choice but to scream, “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, YOU ASSHOLE!” All eyes were on us, then he sped off.
Walking around, minding my own business. Enter Fuckhead, or FH. “Nice tits, are those real?” :rolleyes: I flip him the bird, as is my usual response, and he seems to be offended, and let me know that I had an attitude. Was he serious? I almost crapped myself. FH walked up to a complete stranger to question the authenticity of her tits, and I’m the one with the attitude problem. I was completely done using words on this person, and kept moving. FH followed me for a block with a string of generic heckles, before pulling out a goddamn camera phone and telling me he was going to take a bunch of pictures of me. Apparently giving him the finger pissed him off enough for him to follow me for a block (city block, mind you) and think of every despicable thing he could possibly do to piss me off back. I turned around, got about two inches from him and said, “I will knock you the fuck out.” He stopped bothering me.
Here’s the absolute worst.
I’m walking home from work when some asshole with a giant dog screams, “Hey, give me your phone number.” I suppose such formalities as my name, or whether or not I’m interested are not required. I look at him like he’s crazy and keep walking. The screaming and demands for my phone number continue, I tell him to leave me alone, he apparently finds this to be impossible, and keeps following me. Then he tells me I’m conceited, and that if I don’t stop and talk to him, he was going to have his pit bull attack me! :eek:
What the fuck? At this point, I don’t know if this is some kind of joke or not, but I don’t find it amusing. I let out a brief nervous chuckle, and keep walking. The guy starts walking faster, and begins letting some length on the leash so that the dog is getting closer. I speed up, he speeds up. The dog keeps getting closer. I was getting ready to scream, before the idiot started laughing and went away. In hindsight, the dog didn’t seem aggressive, but I was still fucking scared.
What the fuck was that all about? Threats and intimidation? If that was supposed to be a joke of some sort, it wasn’t fucking funny. I was terrified shitless. I hope that guy dies in a fire.
I saw a youtube video that I thought was hilarious but I think most will think was a horrible mean nasty thing to do.
A group of teen boys in a car drove past a Barnes & Noble on the release night of HP Half Blood Prince where there was a line of fans waiting to get their copy of the book and yelled out loud to the crowd “SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE!!!”
The looks on some of those people’s faces was priceless.
My own times on the receiving end of drive-by catcalls have all sort of melded into one. Sadly, I just can’t recall one shining star of the bunch. I think I was 11 or so the first time it happened, on my way to babysit in a small suburb. Group of teenagers crawl by and make comments about my tits. I’m sure I knew their families. I felt powerless and angry for quite a while after that, though I never discussed it with my mom or anyone. Part of it was probably shame (that I’d dared to grow breasts), but I think I already knew ‘this is how it’s going to be.’
And it was, pretty much. The worst was getting hit on while going to a funeral and waiting to find out if a friend of mine was alive after ODing (the lovely guy told me ‘What? it’s not like I was going to rape you!’). It’s tapered off a bit in my 20s. I think, because most men who do it are pathetic and spineless, they are good at spotting girls and women who won’t do anything but blush. Even those who yell back – is it ever really satisfying? I’d say no. Not as satisfying as having a lovely walk and enjoying the day and not once being reminded that you’re being stared at or a potential target.
Since, oh, about 12 or so, I’ve been putting up with strangers hollering from cars (I’ll be 26 on Tuesday, so I guess that makes it about 14 years now). Honestly, it happens often enough (and the shit they spew is unoriginal enough) that it all just blends together. It “makes sense” insomuch as commenting on the sexual attractiveness of a random woman you’ve never met makes sense.
I also once had what I’m pretty sure was a guy attempting to solicit me as a prostitute. (He was hanging out the window of his car, telling me he thought he knew me, while he blatantly displayed a wad of cash.) This, mind you, to a woman with short blue hair, in jeans and a plain black tank-top, with a purse made from a gas mask bag and a guitar strap.
In college, my friends and I decided that what people are shouting is, “Fuck you, I’m in a car!”
(1)Several years ago I was walking in the loop and a Chicago Reader (!) delivery van was stopped at a red light. The girl in the passenger seat leans out and says, “Hey cutie, need a ride?”.
I couldn’t think of anything to say as the light turned green and they drove off.
(2) Two weeks ago I was walking my infant daughter in her stroller while taking the dog for a walk when a woman in a SUV slows down and shouts, “Lookin go-ood!”.
I got a huge grin, half strutted home and told my wife when I got home that I still had “it”.
Walking down the street with a female friend of mine, and a very drunk young man leans out of the passenger side window and yells at her “Hey Lady! I’d like to eat the pickle that’s up your ass!”
Then he puked all over the side of the car. Which drove off.
I don’t really keep tabs on things said to me, so I’ll steal my friend’s story. We were walking together, so her story is rightfully mine for the telling anyway.
At any rate, she’s my “fruit fly” (fag hag is a term she finds demeaning), and is a bit overweight. So, we’re walking down a sidewalk near her house talking and what not. These kids, around 11 to 12 or so, lean out of their window and shout “fat girl walking; faaaat girl walking!” So, fruit fly stops and says, “Great one. Now I know where you live, kid. See you later tonight.”
