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On October 15th, Hollaback! and Cornell University released the first ever international survey on street harassment. Since its launch, we’ve already had over 1,000 respondents, but we need to hear from you, whether or not you’ve been harassed!
What you can do right now to help:
What you can expect on the survey:
We know that data drives change – and with the new survey we hope that individuals will know what street harassment is, know its effects, and know how to find support. We believe this could be the largest survey on street harassment yet, but we need your help. Fill out and share the survey today!no comments
In honor of October and domestic violence awareness month Seattle Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson recently started his Why Not You Foundation and his first order of business is to raise awareness for domestic violence. You can read the letter he penned about why this issue is important to him here.
Good job Russell!
Check out these maps first…
Here’s some context: After hurting my foot and winding up on crutches, I noticed an increase in comments I was getting on the street. I decided to record and map all the comments I received on my way home from work for the rest of the week.
Check out the original post here.
“Last night” in this story is actually last winter. I wrote it down because that’s what I do when I can’t sleep, and now I share it because I found my voice.
I had to run to the corner store last night. It wasn’t late, around 8pm, but it was after dark. There were only a few other people in the store, and just one in front of me at the checkout. The man in front of me fiddled with some impulse buy items as the cashier rang up his purchase. I thought nothing of it, of him — at first, and when he walked away, I took my place at the register. As I spoke to the cashier I got that feeling, you know, the one where you can just feel someone watching you. I looked up, through the glass doors of the store and there was the man who had been in front of me, standing next to his truck, door hanging open, another friend inside, and the two of them were not just glancing at me, or casually looking in my direction, but they were leering at me – boring holes into my body with their stares.
I completed my transaction and stalled, hoping that in the extra time the men would leave before I had to walk straight toward them. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I turned toward the door to exit. They were still there, still leering, devilish gleam in their eyes. I exited the store – with shoulders hunched and eyes to ground – and quickly shuffled across their path, to my car. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw their bodies turn to follow me. Quickening my step, I reached my car, slid into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door shut, while simultaneously looking to my right to check the men’s position. They caught my gaze, sneered & licked their chops. In one motion, I locked the door, started the engine, & threw the car into reverse, not exhaling until I was out of the parking lot. My heart still pounding, I drove home, just two turns until I was safe in my driveway. As I sat there trying to regain my composure, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a big, black truck – their big, black truck – resting at the foot of my driveway. My heart stopped when I realized they had followed me home, but before I could even consider my next move, they sped off.
Lying in bed last night, jumping at each sound from the “things that go bump in the night,” I wondered how such a non-event that lasted only minutes could impact me so profoundly.
What made these guys, those creeps, think it was acceptable to intimidate me just for kicks?
How could I let them get to me? Make me stare at the ground as if I had something to be ashamed of? I consider myself to be strong, but I felt pathetic and small.
Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” but I did not consent to this…