Stuff People Say to Teen Girls
Yeah, girls. Not women. Girls. Girls as young as 7 have submitted stories to Hollaback! Now, we could wallow in sad facts like that, but we’d rather get out there and do something about it. Lucky for us, Hollaback! Philly feels the same way. They made this honest, funny and yeah, sad video about the things people say to young girls. Sure, this meme came and went but the message that street harassment is detrimental to the well being of over half the world still needs to be heard. So, enjoy:
“My inner warrior woman takes over” – Solstice’s story
As I was leaving the MD rally against the war on women at the War Memorial Plaza, I stood at the corner of Gay to cross Fayette in order to work my way to Lombard St. I noticed a rather nondescript middle-aged man standing about 10 yards away on the south side of Fayette. There was nothing that I can pinpoint, but something caused my radar to go off. I proceeded across Fayette as soon as the traffic cleared. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the man walk toward Gay. As I continued down Gay I heard running footsteps. It was this same man running down Gay, close to the curb. I sensed something was off, so I moved closer to the building and hurried my step. Suddenly he halted. I turned to look at him and he said, “I’m going to fuck you in the ass!”. I stopped and said, “I beg your pardon!” (not sure why I said that!) Then I pointed my finger at him and yelled, “There’s something wrong with you! You need to get away from me right now!” I was FURIOUS that this man thought he could say something like that. I do have to say that the look on his face was priceless. His jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out and he ran away as fast as he could.
Let me add that I’m in my mid-50s. I’ve had men make lewd comments to me for many, many years. (Although, they have, fortunately dropped off as I’ve gotten older) In my 30s I made the decision that men were not going to get away with talking to me like that without me confronting them. Most of the time they back off, although I did have a car full of NFL rookies try to run me down once! I know that there is potential danger in confronting a harasser and want others to realize this, too. I’d hate for anyone who is being harassed to be hurt during a confrontation. However, when something like this happens to me it’s like my inner warrior woman takes over. I feel no fear, only anger. It’s rather empowering.
A Pointless Interaction – Shawna’s story
I was pulling into this bank parking lot as a man was walking, kind of aimlessly, in front of the bank on the sidewalk. I say aimlessly because I waited to pull in until he was clear of the driveway, but staring back at me with a huge grin he started walking exactly towards where I was going, the bank parking lot. Like most people in a hurry, this frustrated me because he was preventing me from quickly parking in a deserted lot, all while trying to talk to me and staring at me with a goofy grin. He kept walking towards the back of the bank where the ATM is. Once I realized the bank had already closed, I knew I had to drive towards this street harasser and deal with him some more. There were no other cars around and he just kept staring right at me saying “You like driving that car, don’t you? You like driving? Yeah, you like driving that car.” Eventually he walked off, but not before I took his picture. I would sum up this interaction as pointless.
We Are In This Together – Isobel’s story
I have always felt strong in the face of leering expressions and crude suggestions. I took Kung Fu for years, and felt like I could take on the vast majority of guys who harassed me, trying to ‘Tap that’, or saying they ‘Just want to talk to [me] for a second, baby’, and that they ‘just want my pussy’ and ‘it would be good, baby’. These ‘men’ were combinations of drunk, lecherous and pathetic, while I was strong, purposeful, and even though there was somewhere inside of me a vulnerability that rose up at times, I tamped it down. Because why should my day worsen for their cheap fun? Why should I yield my power of self to an anonymous stranger, out to prey for a sense of dominance.
Recent events have reminded me that things haven’t always been this way, and I was not always able to separate myself from the situation, tear myself away from the piggish subjugation of their words, actions and gazes. The first time I faced harassment I was ten. Fourth grade. In a nice Maryland suburb, outside DC. Ten. And that little girl didn’t know how to deal with the situation, and that feeling of helpless vulnerability intoxicated her life for years, increasing a fear of strangers and a wariness of men. Ten. And that isn’t right.
Two weeks ago I was returning from a friends house late at night. I usually drive if I know I’ll be returning late, but I’d gotten used to warmer nights and didn’t want to waste gas. Still, I called my school’s shuttle- in short, not helpful. So I walked. And for over seven blocks I was followed and harassed. At first he was across the street from me, about a half a block behind me. Then, when I turned, he turned too, and followed, less than two blocks behind me, still calling out suggestions and requests that became progressively ruder, and reached a level that I’d rarely faced before. I realized that if he continued, he would follow me straight home. I flagged down a campus safety vehicle, told him what happened while the guy ran off, and then went back to my house. But while I had been walking, that 4th grade girl had been clawing her way up inside me, choking me slowly, and at home, she came out in panic. Which made so little sense to me. I’ve always believed in my personal powers of resistance, and my capability in dealing with such a situation. But while groping hands, crude words, and ogling have their own particular harassing qualities, the idea that I was being followed, that I was at the potential mercy of a stranger who didn’t get his jollies just from words, but felt the need to pursue me for more than seven blocks and change the direction he had been going was invasive and frightening. And while all street harassment encompass those aspects, this also included an innate aggression that prompted his stalking, something I hadn’t experienced.
My thoughts have brought me to a couple of things. For all of my empowered, confidence in my abilities, I can be blindsided, and need to be able to muster a reaction that is suitable. I still feel capable. I grew up in a street harassment heavy area, and relative desensitization has made it less of a thing for me than a lot of the women I know, but it has also made me careless. That little girl is still inside me somewhere, and her sense of innocence needs to be protected, not only for me, but for all of the other little girls out there who don’t ever need to experience this and shouldn’t have to. This is my story, and my call to women: we are in this together, and it will take all of us. Every one of us.
He pulled on my car door handle – Allegra’s story
I often get harassed through my car windows on the corner of North & Monroe, where I have to turn every day to get home from my job as an elementary school teacher in Southwest, and where a bunch of men hang out on the corner. Last week, the first unseasonably summer-like day, a man approached my car and began making comments through my (closed) window as I waited at the red light. He then decided to escalate by pulling on my car door handle. The door was locked. I am not sure what he would have done if it hadn’t been. Although I get harassed and yelled at a lot by men on the street when I’m stopped at red lights, this was the first time one actually tried to enter into my space while in my car. I realized that, not only can I not feel safe riding with the windows down, I can’t even really feel safe at all.
Your taxes at work – Christine’s story
A young woman was walking on one of these first unseasonably warm days down the street. While riding in my boyfriends car, I saw a garbage truck on the opposite corner stop to pick up trash. While the guys in the back were working, the driver and passenger up front kept yelling at the woman. “Hey shorty! Hey! How you doing?” I’m sure she heard, but tried to ignore them. They just laughed and went about their route. The light turned and we drove away, knowing she wasn’t in any physical danger or anything, but I thought I could help by posting her story and pointing out that THESE GOVERNMENT WORKERS WERE BEING PAID TO HARASS A CITIZEN. So disappointing.
Throwing Bricks at Bitches – Pamela’s story
I always experience dealing with pushy overly aggressive men who disrespectfully approach me…I could tell stories for DAYS but I will tell only two. I was touched by your chalk writings on the sidewalk that I saw at the harbor…so much so that I took pictures of them on my phone and searched for the artist online. Well wouldn’t you believe that five minutes after seeing your work some guy yells out of a car window for me to “come here”. I told him clearly that I don’t want to talk to him. I keep walking. He’s riding beside me calling me over and over. It was so embarrassing. People were looking. I told him several times I don’t want to talk to you and then I started ignoring him until eventually he drove off. One other day a random guy walked up to me extended an arm with a phone in his hand and said. “Put your number is here so I can call you”. No “Hello Miss how are you today?”? Nothing. Just ‘put your number in my phone’. The nerve of him. Finally a group of guys tried to talk to my friend and myself. We turned them down so they started yelling and calling us bitches and throwing rocks bricks and bottles at us. Thankfully none of them actually hit us.
“Trying to shame me for rejecting him” – Jordan’s story
Walking up to pay for parking at a lot near work, there are couple of guys feeding money into the machine. One guy looks me up and down, says “daaaammmmnnnn” and then asks me if I’m married. I asked him why it would matter to him if I’m married or not. He says, “Well are you single, are you dating somebody?” I reply that it is none of his damn business. And he, speaking authoritatively and trying to shame me for rejecting him, responds by saying, “Oh, I see… You just don’t like black guys*, right?” And I, not really wanting to get into it with this asshole, sarcastically reply, “Yup, you’ve figured me out.” And he says, “You’d rather be with a white dude.” This is something I’ve heard so many times before when rejecting the come-ons of men – and not just men of color. If I reject a white guy I get asked if I’m a lesbian. And this pisses me off to no end. So I say back to him, “Just because I don’t want to have a conversation with some guy who just checked out my tits and then asked me if I’m single doesn’t mean I’m not into black guys. I don’t think I should have to explain myself every time someone with dick hits on me.” Not the most eloquent or even useful response, but fuck him! The look on his face was priceless and he finally shut up and left me alone. His friend giggled. And then they both walked away. What is it about warm weather that can bring out the worst in people?! *Note from the site director: We have a strict anti-racism policy here that goes as far as taking out racial identifiers. We have made an exception here because the information is contextual to the story and actually helps to show that street harassment is not “cultural”. It is global (experienced by at least 80% of women worldwide) spanning race, nationality, age, class, religion, education-level, and political affiliation.
