Last summer, walking up a crowded street in Times Square, I was groped for the first time in my life.
What had first felt like a casual bump or two turned into something much more malicious, and I ducked into the first store I walked by, urging the friend I was with to follow. Apparently, the creep who grabbed me must have thought I was talking to him, because he followed us into the store, staring the entire time, and trying to corner me in the claustrophobic, dead-end aisles. When I told my friend what was happening, she immediately pulled me toward the back exit of the store, and we ran back toward the center of Times Square, getting lost in the crowds of people. I didn’t call the cops, I didn’t tell the store clerk, and I almost didn’t tell my mother when I got home. I just tried to push it out of my head and pretend I didn’t feel so violated.
Last summer, walking up a crowded street in Times Square, I was groped for the first time in my life.
Up until that point, I had always thought of myself as assertive about men being gross, and I always thought that if something ever happened to me in public, I would make a scene and embarrass the guy and make him regret ever touching me. But when it actually happened, I realized there was nothing more terrifying than being in a confined space with a man you don’t know who think it’s okay to follow, harass, and put his hands on you. It’s terrifying, and it’s traumatizing, and the sad thing is that statistically, it will happen to me again at some point in the near future. It’s hard to feel safe in a big city when you have to keep your guard up constantly.
I now go to school in Boston, which a lot of people consider a smaller, better New York. A lot of people think that the harassment is going to stop because Boston is cute and historic and definitely not filled with the same type of people that inhabit New York City.
Over the past year, I’ve been followed, cornered, catcalled, harassed, and even touched by men on the street and on the T who somehow think that they have a right to do or say whatever they want to me.
I’ve had friends experience the same, and even worse – some times with strangers, sometimes with people who are supposed to be their friends. I’ve had people offer to buy me pepper spray, and tell me I need to get a pocket knife, because I commute to work alone every day and it’s not safe for me to be out alone without anything to protect myself. I’ve seen all the stories in the news about girls being sexually assaulted in Ubers, and now I sit close to the door with my hand on the latch the entire time just in case something goes wrong. I can’t go grocery shopping at night because my favorite grocery store is across the Fens, and girls can’t walk through the Fens alone when it gets dark. I get nervous when men who look suspicious get off at the same T stop as me, or when they get too close behind me on the sidewalk, because I automatically assume they’re following me and start to panic. I don’t let random men make conversation with me while waiting for the train because I don’t want to make them think I’m interested, and have to deal with the repercussions of telling them ‘no.’
This isn’t meant to bash Boston, or to say that all men in Boston are creeps. Most of the time, I do generally feel quite safe on the T or walking around. But there are always those moments when someone gets too close, or acts too friendly, or looks at you a little too long, when you can feel every muscle in your body fill with fear. I can’t walk around with both headphones in because it makes me an easy target. I’m inherently more at risk than other women because my hair is long and easy to grab, especially if I wear it up. And I can never really feel totally, 100 percent safe in Boston or New York (or anywhere else for that matter) because I’m a woman, and the gender I was born into somehow makes men think that they have a right to do or say whatever they want to me.
There’s a lot wrong with this picture, most of which I don’t think would be solved by living somewhere smaller. Bad things happen everywhere because bad people are everywhere – they’re just more likely living in a city. Having to be constantly aware of your surroundings is exhausting, but it’s better than what could happen if you let your guard down. But I’ll be damned if I let a couple of creeps every now and then ruin Boston and New York City for me just because no one ever taught them manners.
