When I had my first non-Livejournal blog [good ol' Blogspot!], I did a weekly feature where I wrote about things that sketchy guys had said when they hollered at me. It was always bitterly funny, because of course, I’d prefer it if they’d actually treated me like a person and said “Hi”. [An old friend of mine maintains that that's the best pickup line ever.]
So, this is a well-worn topic for me. I’ve been hollered at by guys over the past twelve years or so, which is creepy, because twelve years ago, I wasn’t over the age of consent. And in the past couple of years, I’ve gained at least a tiny bit more aplomb in dealing with it – my typical reaction is just ignoring him, and if he presses on, I make eye contact and say, “I’m not interested.” Sometimes they keep trying, at which point I wonder if they’re hard of hearing, because I don’t think I’ve been less than clear about not wanting to let him “walk my poodle” or anything like that. And sometimes their continued attempts turn nasty.
[Sidenote: if I weren't so skeeved out by it, I might say that some of these dudes might make really good marketing copywriters - unique, succinct and to the point, though they'd probably not get the hint when someone hit "unsubscribe".]
Only a few times have I ever felt physically unsafe, but that doesn’t make me feel much better. I’m scrappy, but I’ve never been in a fight, and I’ve never tried to defend myself against someone who may have been bent on hurting me. And all my gymgoing aside, I’m not a runner. So getting away is only a remote possibility.
But even when I wasn’t being physically threatened, I got the message, all right. The implication is always “I could hurt you if I wanted.”
It’s happened to me in BedStuy, Brooklyn, and the Upper East Side. It’s happened in several different areas of Cincinnati spanning lines of race, class, and income. It’s happened at multiple times of day, when I was dressed in different styles and had different haircuts, in all seasons. It happens when I’m alone or with other women. It happens very often when I’m walking my fifty-pound dog and on three separate occasions it’s happened while I was walking with my [decidedly non-androgynous or -feminine] boyfriend.
However, I wonder: would I get these comments if I weren’t white? If I were older, or young enough to look illegal? If I were disabled? If I were dressed in rags instead of cool outfits?
On one single occasion, I looked at the company name of the truck the guy was stepping into as he said “Hey baby . . . ” and called his supervisor. I got an apology, but it still felt ridiculous.
What do you do when this happens to you? Do you talk back to your harasser? Have you ever had an adverse reaction? Have you ever actually made a guy apologize? I’d really like to hear your thoughts in the comments.
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1 comment
don't understand men says:
Jun 22, 2010
I don’t understand. What does street harassement mean? If men comment about you does that mean that you are attractive, if they don’t are you not? I see very beautiful women who guys never say anything to. I do think being white gives you more of advantage to the beauty pedestal and maybe men react to that. I don’t know.