Street Harrassment

[Nat]

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.

[always2late]

I voted in the poll...but after doing so, I began to think about it and I realized that I read the word "harassment" and interpreted it to mean anti-gay harassment. I am not sure if that was the correct interpretation. If the question is have I ever been harassed because of my sexual orientation...then the answer is no. However, if the poll is covering other forms of harassment...then yes, I have been harassed since I was 11 years old. I developed very early and, at 11, wore the same bra size that I do now. When I think back on it...it was pretty damn disgusting, because I was OBVIOUSLY not an adult, except for one anatomical characteristic, and the attention I received, particularly from older biological men, was downright disturbing!

[Nat]

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

[starryeyes]

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!

[MsTinkerbelly]

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.

[princessbelle]

I would say yes, most definitely.

Stares and glares when i'm with my partner, and the ugly hoot calls when i'm by myself. Well, more so when i was younger for sure. LOL.

It's funny really but i can handle it from bio men when i'm alone and they have no clue i'm gay...i just think to myself "asswipe" and walk on.

But, when i'm with my partner and i get that "omg you sick-o" glare, my feathers get ruffled and i want to poke their eyes out with a steel rod and rip their lower intestines out with my bare hands. Ok that may have been a little overboard but, yeah, pisses me off.

I guess my outwardly gay part is tougher than my "seen as straight" part. That probably made no sense.

Good thread and yes, i need more coffee.

[Justin]

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 !!!

[always2late]

Originally Posted by princessbelle

I would say yes, most definitely.

Stares and glares when i'm with my partner, and the ugly hoot calls when i'm by myself. Well, more so when i was younger for sure. LOL.

It's funny really but i can handle it from bio men when i'm alone and they have no clue i'm gay...i just think to myself "asswipe" and walk on.

But, when i'm with my partner and i get that "omg you sick-o" glare, my feathers get ruffled and i want to poke their eyes out with a steel rod and rip their lower intestines out with my bare hands. Ok that may have been a little overboard but, yeah, pisses me off.

I guess my outwardly gay part is tougher than my "seen as straight" part. That probably made no sense.

Good thread and yes, i need more coffee.

Even though I have never been harassed while with a partner, or for being gay, I can totally understand why it would make you more irate! I think that most women in our society have learned to deal with the random idiots who will hoot and holler and make suggestive comments as they walk down a street (I'm not saying its something we SHOULD have to deal with...just stating that most of us have dealt with it at one time or another). And it can become rather easy to shake it off...because when you think about it, although it may be disgusting and offensive, it is not really personal. It is harassment for what you look like, or for the simple fact of your biological sex. However (and this is my opinion only) I would see anti-gay harassment as something much different. To me it would not be an "attack" on how I look, but rather an attack of who I AM...and yeah, that would probably make me want to rip someone to shreds too.

[foxyshaman]

I too was an early bloomer. I am short and no mistaking my female gender. I also really wiggle when I walk and I would have given ANYTHING when I was younger to not have swinging hips. But then it developed into a great dirt dog swagger... so yeah it works now

I have been harassed when with a partner. And sometimes I even give back better than I get. Especially when I am behind said offenders in the grocery line up. Oh sometimes a captive ass is the best ass to harass.

The worst harrasment I have experienced however, is due to practicing shamanism. I will host drumming circles out doors, or teach classes in local parks. Loud mouth Christians who think they have the corner on spirituality can be quite nasty. Sometimes it takes all my Pisces Water to douse my Aries Flames.

[Quintease]

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!

[Point~Of~No~Return]

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

[princessbelle]

Originally Posted by always2late

Even though I have never been harassed while with a partner, or for being gay, I can totally understand why it would make you more irate! I think that most women in our society have learned to deal with the random idiots who will hoot and holler and make suggestive comments as they walk down a street (I'm not saying its something we SHOULD have to deal with...just stating that most of us have dealt with it at one time or another). And it can become rather easy to shake it off...because when you think about it, although it may be disgusting and offensive, it is not really personal. It is harassment for what you look like, or for the simple fact of your biological sex. However (and this is my opinion only) I would see anti-gay harassment as something much different. To me it would not be an "attack" on how I look, but rather an attack of who I AM..
.and yeah, that would probably make me want to rip someone to shreds too.

Yes yes this!!!!!!! Girl, we always think alike. I swear you were my sis in another life!!!

[EnderD_503]

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.

[WomenMoveMe]

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.

[Lady Pamela]

Most definately..but most has eiter been due to me being femme..sexual harrassment..out of the blue..Or due to being a lesbian..though most can't tell.
Like when I was holding someones hand or stepped out of the club with others.

Will explain that later when I am not rushed for time.
But femmes have it alot due to sexual issues I have found. And butches in my own experience have it due to being with femmes or because they often show butchness.

Should not matter either way.
And as a femme who has had this alot in my life. I find it sickning that just because someone has an ass or boobs or whatever, that this happens.

spouting off sorry..lol

Last summer this just happened to me because I have breasts..2 men on the street started spouting off about stuff..I made a ruckus to make people pay attention. They touched me I freaked...Then they said I shouldnt flaunt em. Not in those words...I was wearing a regular t shirt btw..I can not help it if my breasts are noticable. Nor should I have to hide such.

Sorry soft spot in my mind I guess,,,lol

More later. Chow for now...smiles

[foxyshaman]

Originally Posted by WomenMoveMe

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.
.

Thank you so very much for sharing your story. You have moved me and made me, oh so very grateful, to be here to read/witness a very real, frightening and painful part of your personal story.

[rustedrims]

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..

[Gemme]

Yes to harrassment.

Because I'm female, with female bits.

And one tme, because I was at a gay club.

[CherylNYC]

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.

[Corkey]

I'd like a definition of street harassment before I vote. Though I'm not a Transman, I am Transgendered so yes this difference is important to me.