Funny or Die made a response to Hollaback’s street harassment video and, of course, there are buzzkills all around. People who sympathize with women say it’s making light of a serious topic, while those who don’t sympathize are complaining that this isn’t what it’s really like for men.
Of course it isn’t, it’s satire. Keep reading »
Misogyny just doesn’t exist! Catcalls are compliments! SMILE SWEETHEART. Tell that to Shoshanna B. Roberts, the New York City-based actress who starred in yesterday’s viral street harassment video (posting it again, above, because it’s worth watching multiple times), who then received rape threats in the comments section on YouTube. Hollaback, the anti-street harassment org. that made the video, tweeted about the harassment yesterday, asking followers to report/flag the comments with threats and they have, thankfully, since been deleted. Unfortunately, there are still plenty of dudes (and, yes, some women too) excusing the 100+ comments from strangers Roberts received as no biggie. So, you know, fuck everything. [Jezebel]
My very female-friendly male friends have told me repeatedly that the frequency with which they see and hear street harassment in no way matches up to the frequency with which their female friends tell them they’re harassed. Well! Outfit us with cameras, and you’ll find out for yourself.
This video was produced for Hollaback, an anti-street harassment organization with an app through which users can report locations of street harassment and bystander intervention. In the video, which was filmed over the course of 10 hours walking silently around Manhattan, the woman is catcalled over 100 times, including one particularly off-putting incident in which she is followed by a catcaller for five minutes. Keep reading »
Yesterday, at the farmer’s market, I encountered a man starring at me all googly-eyed and weird, who then sidled up next to me and said, all breathily, “Excuse me, what’s your name?” My instinct was to say “My name is Fuck Off And Die You Fucking Prick,” but I was so caught off-guard by a guy looking at me all googly-eyed and weird and asking me for my name in a breathy voice when I didn’t know him at the god damned farmer’s market that I just stammered, “Uh, Rebecca?”
“Rebecca,” he said breathily, again, his eyes boring into mine. “Nice to meet you.” I walked off and he sort of half-whispered, “Have a nice day.”
Why did that guy need my name? Keep reading »