Tag » hollaback
Living in a huge urban center like New York City means that catcalls and whistles, unwanted greetings and gestures, can, unfortunately, come at you any time of the day or night. Case in point: I left my bartending job at 1 pm IN THE AFTERNOON yesterday, after working an all-night rave that rendered me exhausted, voice-less and wanting to buy an apple from the corner fruit stand just to chuck it at a passing police siren. In other words, I looked rough. Read More
Yesterday, Hollaback! came out with a "Know Your Rights" guide, a comprehensive report documenting information on street harassment from 22 different countries and their local laws on street harassment. Hollaback! is a movement made up of activists around the world starting conversations about street harassment and working toward solutions for creating safer public spaces for women and LGBTQ people. Read More
I have been brainstorming for years the best way to react to catcallers, and I think Caroline Tompkins has found it. Her creative and powerful photo project titled “Hey Baby” turns the lens on her verbal assaulters. The 22-year-old art student claimed walking around her own neighborhood was unbearable and she would constantly be harassed. In taking photos of the jerks that think they are in the right, she is able to turn around and confront the situation, and say, "if you take comfort away from me, I can take comfort away from you. Read More
  I love New York. I’ve lived here my whole life, and wouldn’t trade a minute of it for anything.  That being said, there’s a lot about growing up in a big city, especially for a young woman, that’s not so great. I’m thinking particularly of street harassment—it’s something that I, along with countless others around the world, have had to deal with almost every day from a very young age. Some of my friends yell at their cat-callers, some spit at their feet. I, on the other hand, am not as inclined to such boldness. Read More
There’s a brand-new building going up in my neighborhood, about a block from my subway stop. I’m not even going to bother explaining what that means. If you're a woman, you know the deal. As I approach, I feel my shoulders rounding forward, my gait shortening and shuffling. My eyes are Super-Glued to the sidewalk. I want to hide, but I can’t get to the subway unless I go down this particular block, and here they are, and here comes the low whistle and: “Why you walking so fast, honey?” “Juicy, juicy thighs. Read More