Go Holla Yo Self

I read a post entitled "'Damn, Baby': Some Thoughts on Holla Back"on Ta-Nehisi Coates' blog over at The Atlantic a few days ago.  Holla Back is a blog where people who have been harassed on the street share their accounts and even pictures of their harassers.  I see it as a great way for people to seek revenge against their harassers.  According to the article,

"One thing that nearly all of the posts have in common is an acknowledgement of the effects that street harassment have on women. Most write that they felt shaken, angry, helpless, or tearful after an incident. They write that it took time for them to pull themselves together. That's the thing I think many men don't understand about the harassment: it completely strips a woman of autonomy and it forces a reaction that lasts long after the incident is over. Many times, harassers are seeking a positive reaction, and when they don't get that, they turn to calling the woman they complimented moments earlier a "bitch." And either way, the woman has been forcibly dragged out of her own thoughts. That's why so many women studiously ignore all strangers on the street, I think. It's a form of insulation from getting shook."

The day after I moved to Minneapolis I took a walk into downtown. On my way home I cut through Loring Park which led me by a group of older men playing basketball. They tried to get my attention with some hey baby's and sweetheart's. There were about 5 or 6 of them shouting at me. I had my headphones in and I tried to completely shut it out, I stared straight ahead and picked up my pace. They became angry as I refused to acknowledge them and started calling me rude. Just as I passed by one of them shouted a phrase I'll probably never forget,

"Mmmm...All that ass...All that ass and no class."

It's funny now, and it's a funny story to tell, but it was so enraging in that moment.  Here I was, a woman all alone in the middle of a park in broad daylight just trying to get home being yelled at by a group of old men and I have no class?  I felt like yelling and screaming at them, I felt like throwing a few punches, and I felt like crying.

Half a year later, I felt brave enough to cut through the park once more.  This time I disrupted a much larger, much younger group of men playing basketball so much that the ball-carrier stopped and announced "damn that lady got back."  I even get it in the cute little neighborhood I live in.  Once, as I walked by the outdoor seating at a restaurant I was instructed "hey sweetheart, give me a smile." 

It's a fact of life for me now that I will be cat-called or yelled at from a strange man on foot or from a moving car every time I choose to walk, not just in Loring Park, but essentially anywhere I go.  Men believe they have the right to yell at me, comment on my appearance, and just creepily leer at me.  Basically, they believe they have the right to make me uncomfortable.  Maybe "hey girl, you looking sexy today" doesn't seem rude but the intent is not to compliment or make you feel good about yourself.  It's a power game.

As a result of this, my Minnesota nice has all but disappeared.  I don't smile at strangers, I don't look at strangers, I turn the music up so that I won't have to hear all the hey baby's.  As indignant and angry as it makes me, I never talk back or even acknowledge the comments.  I worry about escalating the situation.  If a strange man can be that disrespectful then I just don't know how far he'll take it.  I do feel a certain amount of fear when it happens because of my vulnerability.  It's easier to stare straight ahead and speed away than to stop and tell them off, let alone take their picture.  But I am glad that people are able to do that on sights like Holla Back.  At least it holds harassers accountable for disgusting, vile acts of verbal and physical violence.