Source: sacetStopped in construction traffic this morning, a man in a passing car yelled some extremely NSFW suggestions out his window. I did not even blink. Most women don’t even blink. We are so used to this type of behavior from strange men that we have learned to pretend as if nothing happened. Head down,…
Source: sacetThe numbers are staggering- 1 in 3 women and 1 in 6 men will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. That’s an assault every 2 minutes in the US alone.
When you’re vocal about your commitment to ending sexual violence, in your homes, in your communities, in our world chances are there will be a survivor around to hear you.
When you’re vocal about your belief in and support for victims of sexual violence chances are there will be a survivor around to hear you.
When you are an outspoken opponent of victim blaming, of using rape as a punchline, of street harassment and gendered bullying chances are there will be a survivor around to hear you.
On the other hand-
If you’re engaging in victim blaming behaviors, making rape jokes, harassing women and others in the streets, supporting legislation that makes it more difficult for victims to get help, etc. - chances are there will be a survivor around to hear you.
With statistics like those above it becomes clear that survivors are people you know, people you love, at home, at work, at school, at the coffee shop.
So you have a choice - stand up, or let them down.
Police officer to groped woman: “These things happen”- Stop Street Harassment
These things happen? These. Things. Happen?
I hate everyone.
***TW Sexual Assault, Harassment***
A year and a half ago (after already being followed a couple of times before, but luckily I noticed and went into a shop until they left), a young guy tried to talk to me in the train station as I was on my home. He asked if he could talk to me and I said ‘no’ and walked away. I then got on my train. I changed twice and walked all the way through the stations, got out at my stop and walked up my little street. It was late at night and there was no one around. I was at my front gate, and was halfway through putting in my security code to open it when I felt someone close behind me. I turned and it was the guy who had tried to talk to me. I was so shocked and when I realised the lengths he’d gone to follow me, I was terrified. I called out in a very strong, firm voice to go away (not very politely!) in French and English and he just stood there and laughed at me.
I realised he was serious about this and it wasn’t just a game so I ran as fast as I could down towards the train station, but I didn’t get very far as he ran faster than me and ran in front of me, stopping me and trapping me. Then he pulled down his pants and laughed. I don’t think he expected me to run, because that’s what I did, very fast, up to my gate and I had time to put in my code and get through before he had time to pull up his pants and get there too.
I was pushing the gate closed from the inside and he was pushing it on the outside and shouting at me. I pushed it so hard and managed to close it and ran for my life up to my apartment. I was so scared to leave my flat as I knew he knew where I lived and could be waiting for me. I went into shock the next morning and was shaking and cold and scared. When I reported it to the police, they said that it is common and that as soon as they get you into the courtyard of your apartment building, they rape you as you have nowhere to go and are trapped.
"Stop Street Harassment- Working to make public places safe and welcoming for all
And this is just one more example of why whenever someone tells me that street harassment is ‘not a big deal’ and ‘you should be flattered/it was a compliment’ and all the other bullshit things people say to excuse sexual harassment I want to punch them in the face.
Guest Post: Street Harassment Stops When Men Say It Stops | The Opinioness of the World
This is from the article with the picture I talked about a bit ago. A pretty good article, cis-centric as these things always are.
When my confident, curious, adventurous 12-year-old daughter asked if she could go get ice cream by herself (we live in a city) the first thing that I thought of was how to prepare her to hear:
“Where’s my smile, baby?”
“Wanna go for a ride?”
What if she is surprised? Looks down? Doesn’t give the guy speaking to her the positive response that he seems to think he’s entitled to? What hurtful, explicit things will he then say to put her in her place?
From now on, she’ll have to be on alert. How many times will she have to go out of her way, take longer routes, not go certain places, alter her clothes? Not forget to hold her keys poking through her fingers? Not take certain buses, and pay for a cab instead of taking a metro? Take her lighthearted moods and tuck them away behind earphones and fake phone conversations?
How will it make my daughter feel? Powerless? Angry? Sad? Scared? It’s stressful and depressing to have to acknowledge the underlying threat of violence, especially in a culture that is dedicated to equality for all, a concept predicated on equal and safe access to public space and free speech. Her loss of innocence will have as much to do with the betrayal of this myth of equality and equal access as with understanding her physical vulnerability.
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I’ve found that just as domestic violence is about power and control, so is street harassment. And sitting at the root of these ills is male privilege.
With male privilege comes a feeling of entitlement: entitlement to sex, entitlement to being in control, having their needs as a priority, and also the expectation that when a man, or men sexually harasses a woman in public that woman should be happy to be getting some attention.
When their advances are rejected, some men call women all kind of different names in an attempt to get some power back. This name-calling also serves to send a message to women which says that their worth is defined by how satisfied a man is with them.
Living in a culture that has very specific rules and expectations regarding what is feminine and masculine, and one that reinforces in overt and subtle ways the subordination of women contributes to the problem, and many images in the media give the message that its ok to treat women like objects, reinforcing the idea of male entitlement & superiority, and subjugation of women.
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Anoushka’s “Rant About Street Harassment” (via mynerdishowing)
***TW rape, sexual assault, harassment**
Source: sodisarmingdarlingHey dudes. I have a request. If you’re going to objectify/admire ladies in public, can you please do so silently?
We’re not on display and not all of us enjoy such blatant attention. So you don’t get to whistle, or TSSSSST, or ask to see various body parts, or say whatever other crude things occur to you without consequence. You don’t get to treat us as if we’re walking on YOUR street for YOU. We are merely going about our daily lives. You know, that thing you get to do without worrying about being harrassed (generally).
Street harassment is a complex thing. At 12, I was well-developed and tall and with my new short haircut I looked quite a bit older than I was. (This isn’t to say I deserved unwanted attention. It’s a partial explanation for why grown men would be hollering at a child.) As a result of always being the chubby/ugly one and generally loserish, I had extremely low self esteem. One of my only sources of comfort was the attention of male strangers, which back then was something I never received from anyone in my school who wasn’t playing a practical joke on me. (This would later manifest in much worse ways, but that’s a different story.)
But when I was outside the world was frequently more accepting. I blushed at every whistle, walked taller and prouder with every gross comment. I was a WOMAN! I felt warm and sexy and appreciated and approved of. Part of me always felt a little sick, but it was worth the momentary bliss of pleasing someone.
You can see what’s wrong with that, right? I thought that if only I could be considered pretty, all of my problems—the depression, the mood swings, the lack of real friends—would disappear. I was tired of being smart; it was getting me nowhere. It’s difficult to convey the degree to which I wanted beauty without connecting it to vanity, but it wasn’t about that. Being pretty seemed like the ticket: the one and only way to succeed.
The super-insecure adolescent in me still likes the attention and confirmation of being all right looking, but uppity/current me feels exposed and angry because all she wants to do is eat a damn ice cream cone in peace. I’ve read The Beauty Myth. I know everything I need to know about the dangers of objectivity. But part of that girl is still inside me, quietly seeking approval for all the wrong reasons.
Street harassment is not a compliment. Street harassment is a blatant display of ownership. Street harassment says: “You are in public, so I can say whatever I want to you.” Street harassment is something that simply doesn’t happen to men (and when it does, it’s an exception). It happens to women all the time and it happens because we reward the attractiveness of women over all over qualities and teach boys that they have the right to treat us as if we’re parading around for their approval. It’s gross. Please stop. I hate thinking that every girl has to grow up trying to conform to unrealistic standards and spending her nights crying because she can’t, as if that’d be her life’s greatest accomplishment.
So if you must say something, try a nice greeting or genuine attempt at brief conversation. Even a compliment like “I really like your haircut” is a nice way to let someone know you find her attractive and see her as an actual human being. “Show us your tits,” “hey baby how much,” and “nice ass” are not appropriate. And when we tell you it’s wrong, we’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell us we should be flattered, or to shut up, or get fucking laid already, or call us crazy bitches. It isn’t that we’re uptight. It’s that we want respect.
Thanks.
