Like I said, maybe it wasn’t even an incident. It’s just that in the place where I usually eat, strangers rarely approach each other except to borrow the salt or an unoccupied chair, or to request a look at whatever section of the newspaper you’re done reading. Rarely does anyone comment on other people’s food unless it’s someone they know, such as saying to a friend or coworker, “Hey, you’re eating fish? I thought you didn’t like fish!” or “Chocolate cake, Jane? I thought you told me you were on a diet.” This is why it seemed rather unusual to me.
Eh, maybe I was just stressed out at the moment and thus inclined to make a big deal over nothing.
Holey Moley. Every two weeks? I suppose you can get used to everything, but…holey moley. :eek: And these are otherwise normal white-collar guys? And this happens in the USA, a country where sexual harrassment will land a man on a sexual offenders list which pretty much is a social death sentence, social and careerwise?
And you plan on carrying a weapon that might scare a guy so much the ensuing panic in the elevator could get him, you or you both killed or maimed for life?
23; Glasgow, Scotland; hard to say because I’m usually listening to music which cuts out a lot of outside noise but about 90% of the time I go out without headphones in. I walk to and from work through the week, which is a 6 mile round trip so am out walking in public about 2 hours a day.
The comments vary in nature from things like “hello gorgeous” to “I’d love to shag that”; “you have cracking tits” and so on. I have on occasion been followed but when that happens it’s mostly just persistence: “hey hey, where you from? What’s your name? What’s your name? What’s your name?” etc. which stops when I tell him to “fuck off.” They are overwhelmingly mild or slightly lewd; only on about 4 or 5 occasions in my life has the caller become aggressive, calling me a “fucking cunt”etc.
How this makes me feel very much depends on context. If a guy whistles at me in the street it doesn’t bother me, sometimes it makes me smile. However, I’ve also passed a man on an otherwise deserted street at about 1.30am who thought it appropriate to lean in towards me and whistle loudly in my ear; in that instance the whistle was very intimidating. I’ve had different men say more or less the same thing to me but some will say it with a wink and a cheeky grin whereas others will be aggressive-sounding and leering. The first type often makes me smile and make a cheeky comment back, the second makes me feel creeped out and annoyed.
Though I get a LOT of comments about my boobs, often the calls I get don’t really make a great deal of sense or aren’t overtly sexual in nature. One of my favourites happened recently when I was walking back from the post office. A young man suddenly yelled out at incredible volume: “GOD BLESS YOU… YA BEAUTY!” He was so enthusiastic you’d think his team had scored the winning goal in the 90th minute of the World Cup Final. Took me a moment to realise his cry was directed at me (he indicated this by smiling and waving). It made me laugh heartily for about a week whenever I thought about it. Still makes me chuckle now.
I have been groped on the street on rare occasions, usually when passing by or leaving a pub at night. Where I have had male friends with me this has resulted in a fight.
Urban/suburban factor: I grew up in a small town with a population of about 5,000. As a teen vans frequently honked their horns at me and I got the occasional comment from men on the street but it was less frequent than in Glasgow, where I’ve lived for the last 6 years.
Socioeconomic and racial factors: I’ve been catcalled by guys in tracksuits with bottles of Buckfast in hand, by men in suits and by men of different racial backgrounds.
One reason women don’t speak to their male friends about the catcalling and harrassing, is that their male response, while form the best of intentions, often is less then helpful.
A male friend might feel obligated to defend our honor by going back to the perpetrator and start a fight. He might worry, and worry so much that he will insist on accompanying us, or discourage us going out, thus limiting our freedom. Or he can get jealous and place the blame with us. Maybe we dressed or walked provocatively? Or he might simply get enraged, and that would spoil the evening. And he can’t shrug it off, because then we would feel a little insulted.
In short, there really is no helpful response possible from our men if we would tell them:“Oh honey, today I got harassed in the subway again.” So we just don’t tell them.
Maastricht, to be fair elevator guys are a mix. The elevator services a hotel and nearby buildings. Some are drunk or otherwise intoxicated people staying at the hotel and it is a niceish hotel. Some are possibly homeless but clean. Some are normal blue collar guys. I do work late hours.
And the gun was more bravado than anything. I had a concealed permit for years and I won’t take it out unless there’s a dire need. No, if that happens I won’t get hurt, but I won’t really risk a pervert’s life if that’s all he wants.
Several people have been mugged in that area, and my car has been broken into twice hence the gun. And I work at one of the nicest, tallest buildings here in town.
When I was in my early 20s and lived in South Minneapolis and worked downtown and took the bus it was a weekly occurrence to be verbally harassed. From “how you doing” to being followed home. Being followed home is really scary. It happened twice.
Now that I’m in my 40s and I’m a suburban mom who works in the burbs - so my day is home to parking lot a work, to inside my workplace, and maybe a stop at Target or the grocery store on the way home, kids ball games and such - I can’t remember the last time a stranger came on to me. My age, my location, my style of dress - all that has changed. And, frankly, I come off more as a cold bitch now than the friendly open young woman I was.
It’s a tonic wine popular in Scotland. It’s a stereotype but drinking Buckfast is associated with people of a lower socioeconomic background, particularly with youths who enjoy fighting/general troublemaking.
Like I commented on the other thread, if guys ever wonder why women wear face-obscuring shades and bright white earphones that let you know we’re wearing them? We’re hiding. Too bad it doesn’t always work.
Oh, that reminds me. I thought I’d only been groped once, but I just remembered the second time. I won’t even get into the details, because it still makes my skin crawl, but both times I hit the guy. The first time was in a bar full of people, so I have no idea if he would have hit me back or not. Someone jumped between us and put the fire out real fast like. Some douche harassed me on and off for about an hour, and I guess he got irritated enough by my being irritated with him that he grabbed my ass. Tumbler to the face for you! The second time I was alone at night and it was raining. I hit him in the face and ran like hell.
I’ll never understand why I’m a cunt because I don’t want to be chummy with someone who is being rude to me. But regarding propositions: I don’t know why I find this funny, maybe because he was old, but anyway… So I was propositioned by an old guy at Trader’s Joe’s once. :eek:
I was shopping and this old guy kept chatting me up. I didn’t think anything of it because old people are always talking to people at grocery stores and the post office. Don’t they know this is LA? Nobody talks to each other. But I chat back because he’s a harmless old man, I throw some stuff in my basket and move on to a different section of the store. Hey, whattaya know, the same old guy is “coincidentally” in the same section of the store as I am again. He starts making generic small talk with me.
Old Guy: So you in school?
Me: No, I graduated last year.
OG: Oh, good for you.
Me: (Smile)
OG: (After a silence) So where’d you go to school? Do you have a good job?
Me: My job is okay. It pays my rent, so I won’t complain too much.
OG: Oh… well that’s good. I may be old, but I remember being your age. How old are you?
Me: 22
OG: Oh, that’s nice. It’s kind of tough being where you are. You have a lot of debt, but not a lot of money.
Me: I manage.
OG: You know, I have a lot of money these days. Big house in Redondo beach by myself. I could help you out… and (leering) you could do things for me.
Me: :eek: Have a good day, sir.
No idea why I called him sir. If he were, say, 30, I may have reacted differently.
I wish I had. I was so unnerved that I just pulled my hand away, whipped around, and shoved him as hard as I could, saying “Fuck off!”
The best part was when my friends and I were gathering to leave. We were standing out in front of the club, and I told them what had happened. A few minutes later, I noticed the guy, just as he was getting into a cab. I pointed him out and shouted, “That’s the guy! *He’s *the one who put my hand on his dick!” We all laughed and jeered at him as the cab drove off.
To be fair, if I heard someone remarking that to someone else, I wouldn’t be miffed if they got a smack in the face in return.
I’m having trouble figuring out how much I get harassed. Except for some stand-outs, it all sort of blurs together. I had lunch last weekend with a friend who got groped while on her bicycle right before she met me. She was pissed and distracted throughout our meal, and blew off plans to go out that night. Her words: ‘I feel gross. I don’t want to dress up or dance with guys.’
Maybe 15-20 years ago Sassy magazine had a great piece that was basically a woman’s diary about daily street harassment. She offered all the details, including what she was wearing (though, as she pointed out, it hardly mattered), what sort of mood she was in, how she often found herself automatically laughing/blushing/smiling at the less threatening stuff, the usual ‘If only I’d said [blank]’ moments that nag at you hours after. I read it just around the time I developed breasts, so it was a great primer for what I was in for.
As others have mentioned, I got harassed a lot more when I was younger, 12-19, depending on where I was living. I’ll admit that I was probably spending a lot less time staying in and playing videogames back then, taking public transportation more (and without an iPod), *and that I was wearing some crazy outfits. Not that I noticed a link between outfits and harassment, but there was probably one between outfits and attention, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Some genius in the other thread pointed out that someone women like to dress up and wear make up, and whydyathinkthat is, hmm? There’s nothing wrong about a double take. Catching a guy checking you out and seeing hm blush a bit is damn hot (and, I’ll admit, being caught checking a guy out is not the worst thing in the world, either). But having him growl at me or give me a ‘Babybabybaby gimme your number, bitch’ does absolutely nothing for the ego except maybe hurt it because 1) What’s nice about being attractive to a person who’s barely human? and 2) Oh yeah, he hits on every second girl or woman passing by. What a thrill.
As for telling guys (and I apologize for the length of my post), I can’t remember ever doing so, unless it had just happened before seeing them. Except for my current SO, who gets pissed off when I tell him. I also told him about a few violent incidents from my teenage years when I realized the whole concept of street harassment was pretty new to him. I’m not sure I’d tell other male friends or coworkers for several reasons: they think I’m overreacting and assume that that’s just how I am (so, in the case of work, they’d better watch me), they’ll try to offer solutions from their particular point of view that don’t really translate, or I’d find out that they think street harassment is a-ok and I’ll have to figure out how to stop talking to them forever (or start a debate).
I’d guess that it has more to do with the age and socioeconomic position of most harrassers vis-a-vis SDMB posters. This board isn’t too overrun with street thugs, frat boys, barflies or crazy homeless people.
Which, by the by, are the demographics of 95+% of the people who have harrassed/groped/catcalled me.
I’m 33, white, live in South Minneapolis. I am not out in public spaces unaccompanied very much these days – when I do go out, it’s with my husband or with groups of friends (often mixed gender) which pretty much eliminates the chances of this happening, as others have noted.
When it does happen nowadays, it’s when I’ve gone to watch my husband perform, so I am sitting (it appears) alone in a bar. I’ve gotten everything from extremely graphic come-ons (“I bet your pussy is as tasty as your tits look”) to repeated requests to dance. I used to occasionally dance if the guy seemed normal but guess what? I got groped 100% of those times, so I don’t anymore.
When I was younger and taking a lot of public transportation or walking to get around, I’d say I’d get catcalled or whatever at least once daily. Lewd comments maybe once a month. Outright scary approaches maybe once a year.
Ever notice how teenage girls carry themselves when they’re alone? It’s vanishingly rare that you’ll see her holding her chin up, shoulders back, making eye contact, or striding instead of shuffling. I learned all of this by the time I was 12, as a defense mechanism. Took years of concentrated effort to break myself of the habit. Walking with anything like confidence is pretty much declaring that it’s open season on yourself.
