Public Street Harassment: Confronting the embarrassment and shame

“I still feel embarrassed to speak out about this, I feel embarrassed writing this blog. But I’ll do it, because the consequences of not speaking out are worse. There is too much at stake when we let sexual violence go unsaid. ”

I am on my way home from a friend’s house, it is 11pm and I think of asking him to walk with me, but decide against it. This is ridiculous, I think to myself, I don’t need some guy to walk me home. The bus ride passes with no problems and gets me to the station for the connecting train. I hesitate at the station entrance, it is pitch black and completely empty. I debate whether to walk into the station or give into my fear and pay the extortionate price of £25 to get a taxi instead. I don’t have time to make my decision before I notice someone watching me. I’m being paranoid I tell myself, don’t give into this, you are fine, it’s just your anxiety kicking in because its late, you’re in a fine part of town and safe. I look up again and he’s suddenly gotten a lot closer. I struggle to contain my fear and quickly walk to the one open kebab shop. Once inside I’m flustered and order a coke as an excuse to sit at the table and decide how I’m going to get home. I notice that the man has followed me into the shop but fortunately the manager of the kebab shop notices too and comes out from behind the counter to confront the stranger. They have a short encounter that I cannot hear but the manager seems to persuade him to leave me alone and sit somewhere else. At this point I give up hope of making it home on public transport and order an Uber, I call my mum the whole way home while sharing my location with her. I have given into my fear and am disappointed at myself for wasting time, energy and money yet again. 

The next morning, I wake up and decide to go on a run. I am feeling much better but still slightly ashamed for getting an Uber when I was so close to home and knew I had slightly over exaggerated. I had just left the house and turned right, I notice a van with three young men in and my heart starts to beat, but I criticise myself for this quick assumption. Unfortunately, my fear proves correct as the van begins to slow and the window rolls down in the all too familiar pattern. My heart rate is up and then they begin to shout at me. Fed up and determined that I will not let my fear overcome me this time I shout back “just fuck off and leave me alone”. I continue to run, trying to hide my fear but they follow me, getting more and more aggressive and refusing to leave me alone. I try for another few strides to continue before turning around and sprinting the 15m back to my accommodation. Once inside my bedroom I lock my door, double check I can't see them from the window, close the blinds in fear and burst into tears. 

I was born in the UK, raised in the Netherlands, Ghana, Ireland and Switzerland. In every country, like all women, I have been the victim of varying degrees of sexual harassment, but none compares to my first year of university in Birmingham. I lived parallel to the main party street, ‘Broad Street’, along a main road. I don’t remember a time I walked home without a comment. It became part of my routine to call my parents or a friend on my 5 minute walk to the gym – just to have someone to talk to and an excuse to ignore the catcalls. As someone who constantly battles between anxiety and not wanting to allow it to stop me doing things my solution became to either call a friend or take an Uber – sometimes both. 

Street harassment exists everywhere, but Birmingham was different. During my last years of high school in the Netherlands I started going out more and I’d often come home in the early hours of the morning on my bike, sometimes with friends and sometimes alone. It would be a lie to say I didn’t often bike quickly past certain streets or feel a little nervous if I had to bike some of the route alone. But I never feared for my wellbeing and never let the thought of getting a home impact my night out.

However, my experiences in Birmingham have affected me ever since. I’m currently living in Zurich where the levels of street harassment are not remotely comparable, yet I still fail to shake the fear of an impending threat after sun set. I struggle to take public transport home after a night out, let alone walk. I find myself constantly on edge sometimes even in the day or early evening. This is in no way justified by my experiences here in Zurich, but as someone who already struggles with anxiety, the very real threats that I faced in my first year of university will probably stay with me for a long time. 

“...as someone who already struggles with anxiety, the very real threats that I faced in my first year of university will probably stay with me for a long time. ”

Working for Bold Voices, I’m aware that my experiences are not extreme or shocking by UK standards.  But maybe that’s the point.  They are entirely recognisable, ‘normal’ experiences, just part of the average harassment that most women face. And they shouldn’t be. 

Normal British ‘lad culture’ is the foundation on which rape culture is built. These actions feed a culture where violent and aggressive behaviour by men is normalised. The intention of street harassment and catcalling isn’t to get a girl’s number or initiate a conversation, it’s to show off by intimidating and the result is to consolidate existing power dynamics. 

I often feel embarrassed or ashamed when I share my experience, even with other women.  The responses I get are subtly telling me that I’m soft and need to toughen up and become more streetwise. The first time I was cat called at age 13 my friend’s mother told me to take it as a compliment and that I was lucky, she said she wished she still had that attention. My male friends are often completely oblivious to the energy, thought and planning that goes into simply feeling safe when leaving or returning to the house late at night. 

Plan International says that street harassment has become ‘normalised as part of ‘growing up’, yet the result of inaction is that women are left feeling anxious, degraded and embarrassed.’  66% of girls between the ages of 14-21 have experienced unwanted sexual attention or harassment in a public place. And 33% of UK girls who have been sexually harassed felt too embarrassed to tell anyone and felt shame surrounding the experience. I know only too well what that feels like. I still feel embarrassed to speak out about this, I feel embarrassed writing this blog. But I’ll do it, because the consequences of not speaking out are worse. There is too much at stake when we let sexual violence go unsaid.