#YouOkSis?: My Personal Experiences with Street Harassment

"Ayo ma!"

"Psssst"

"Aye Slim"

"Hey Chocolate"

"Aye Darkie"

"Nice **insert body part here**"...

I was always told that I looked older for my age. At 11-years old, I had to go down to the DMV to get an ID because movie theaters tried to charge me for an adult ticket. People just didn't believe me when I told them my real age. 

I remember being in the library. I was strolling around, looking for a book for my sixth grade summer reading project, until I was approached by a man. "Hey ma, how you doing? You look so beautiful" he said. He was double my height and looked like he was about twice my age. I was weary of this. "I'm fine" I replied. I was always told to ignore strangers, especially strange men, but he kept following me down each aisle of the library, making comments about my body. After some time, and still not being able to shake him off, I asked "How old are you?" He said 22. At that point, I explicitly backed away from him, tried to laugh off the fear swirling around in my belly, and told him I wasn't interested. He tried to go after me for a moment, but I escaped into one of the bigger common areas that had more people inside. My heart was pounding. I was so confused as to what just happened. For many years, I would believe that I was being "hit-on" or "holla-ed at" and should have been proud, but in hindsight, I was being harassed. 

At age 15, I was confronted by two men at the front door of my apartment building. One of them kept saying "Come on, it's Valentine's Day, gimmie a kiss" and he wouldn't let me through until I complied. He kept toying with me. Calling me beautiful one moment then charging towards me, prepared to strike me when I wouldn't submit to his advances the next. His friend stood there and laughed at me as I cowered in fear. I was defenseless. I just stood there and silently prayed that I would be let through. Eventually, he got tired of me not giving in, and decided to let me into the building. I was paranoid for the rest of the night. I waited a couple of days before I told my mother. She bought me mace, taught me how to hold my keys in my fist, and taught me where to strike if I was ever confronted with danger. I still shudder whenever I think about that night. It could've turned into something so much worst, and I probably wouldn't even be here today. I'll never forget how much fear that man instilled in my heart-- or his friend who stood by and laughed as it was happening. 

As I got older, things didn't really change. Actually, men got much more aggressive with their advances: stalking me down two or three blocks, yelling from across the street with a group of other boys/men, asking me explicitly sexual questions (a cab driver did this to me as he was driving me home), asking me to give them a kiss or a hug, and even going so far as to touch me. But they were just flirting right? It was all just fun right? Wrong. The feeling of shame I had would override the relief of being back in the safety of my home, and that was wrong.

I watched my friends go through it too, and it was so normalized that I couldn't mentally place it as anything bad at the time. This was usually how some Black guys talked to Black girls on the street. Some of my friends would smile at being barked at from across the street, or laugh at the crude comments about "how nice your ass looks in those shorts." It was confounding. I had a friend who was used to this, but instead of ignoring them, sometimes she'd say things like "Don't 'pssssst' at me! I'm not a cat" or "Leave me alone". I tried this. This got guys really angry. They would hurl the word "Bitch!" at me and say things like "Well you were ugly anyway" just to repair their hurt ego. It made no sense. The girl you just accosted with insults was the same girl you were just begging to give you the time of day. 

This cycle of harassment continued for a long time. Seeing that my first time being approached by a man was with harassment, I just thought that that's just how men normally expressed their interest in women, and I should be grateful for even being approached. I was taught to giggle and think it was cute. To laugh it off or accept it as a compliment. I was constantly told to "smile" and made to feel like the sole purpose of my being was to "make his day". And to reject them was to either be a) accosted even more or b) called a bitch. I never realized that the men who did this had no respect for themselves (or me) to be talking to me in that manner.  Most of the time, I didn't respond. I was made to believe that if I ever responded to them, I was "asking for" and "allowing" the continued abuse through this interaction. So I opted for silence. However, there was always something about being silent towards my harassers, that made me feel like I was losing power over myself. Sure, I was choosing the safer option by ignoring them, but to hear their slimy words crawl out of their mouths and to not respond felt like it was stripping something away from me. I'm tired of forfeiting my power to these men. 

But then the shaming from everyone else begins. 

"You have no respect for yourself" 

"Well it was showing so I had to touch it/say something about it"

"You allowed this to happen to you"

"You shouldn't have been wearing that anyway"

"You shouldn't have been alone"

"You should expect things like this"

The list goes on.

I've seen girls cross streets to avoid walking through large groups of boys/men, girls putting on their headphones and blasting music, all just to protect themselves, while still making themselves uncomfortable to accommodate the culture of street harassment. 

I just don't understand how certain men could walk around thinking that they have so much agency and ownership over women's bodies that they could talk to them about it (and even touch it, without permission) in any way they please. It's sickening. A man approached me disrespectfully while I was with my mother. This happened twice. My mother was furious. Not only because of the fact I was underaged, but because he had the audacity to disrespect me while my mother was standing right next to me. She had to scream at the top of her lungs "SHE'S TWELVE", but they would just snicker and smirk to themselves. Street harrassment knows no bounds. While this world has these men conditioned into thinking that it is harmless, going about your daily life as a woman becomes a frightening ordeal. 

This NEEDS to be addressed. Many don't understand that this is what breeds violence against women, perpetuates rape culture and victim-blaming, and causes the dehumanization of women to continue. This is especially prevalent among WOC.

So it is my hope that by sharing my story that, not only will I encourage other women to share their stories, but we could also bring to light an issue that has been plaguing women for years. Do not be intimidated into silence. Our voices are important, and the strength of our words can put an end to the abusive reign of street harrassment.

#YouOkSis?