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We’re so proud of what we’ve achieved this year, but there’s still plenty on our birthday wishlist that we want to achieve in the next year.
Let us know if you can help with any of those things! We’re going to be celebrating Hollaback! Dublin’s 1st birthday with a hangout in Accents coffee lounge at 3pm on the 30th of November. It will be chance for people who are interested in talking about street harassment to meet up and celebrate that we Hollaback!
I had the incredibly bad luck of having two situations of harassment the same day in differents areas. The first one was when I was waiting for a friend at the door of LIDL on Thomas Street. While I was waiting there, a guy stood by my side and asked me “lady, do you wanna fuck?”. I ignored him and turned around, but he kept repeating the same thing over and over again. I was so frustrated at this and annoyed that at some point I turned around and shouted at him, telling him to leave alone or I would call the police. In that moment the guy just turned around,babbling something uncomprehensible and walked away.
But I have such a bad luck, that sadly that would not be the last awful experience I would have that day. After visiting my friend, I went to wait for my bus at the bus stop in Bachelor’s Walk, the one that is just in front of a tanning salon. While I was waiting for my bus to come, a group of 4 young guys came in the opposite direction and one of them grabbed my boobs. I inmediately reacted and they started running, I chased them and hit one on the face with my umbrella, shouting things at them, angry and ofuscated. After that, they tried to intimidate me, saying that they were going to call the police because I hit one of them. Another one called me a tramp. Then another one tried to touch me again and I hit him with my umbrella too. This time he reacted more violently and tried to defend himself, trying to punch me in the face. After that,they just ran away,laughing at their deed and making fun of me. I stood there, frustrated, helpless and not knowing what to do. The people that saw what just happened didn’t even try to help me or said anything, and there was no garda around. But I don’t think that would have made a difference.
This made me so sick to my stomach. I am an international student, and although my country is considered to be unsafe, this has never happened to me there and to be honest, it does not made feel safe in the public space in this city anymore. I have never experienced the affirmation of male power over women in such a violent way before. It is sickening that this young guys are growing up with the idea that they can do anything they want to women without their consent or tell us disrespectful things, breaking the line of respect and limiting our freedom to walk on the streets. It seems to me that we are growing potential rapists and abussers. Nothing seems to have changed from past times. Women rights are just a formality. We are still objects, slaves.
I was cycling along the Grand Canal from town to Celbridge on a sunny Tuesday around lunch time. I stopped just after Clondalkin (over half way) to have a drink of water just before the cycle lane ended and the path became more secluded. A man’s voice came from across the river and said “Do you need some help love?”, to which I replied “No, thanks”. He said, “It’s very dangerous to be cycling around here by yourself, with all of these men about. A pretty girl, like you.”… I don’t know if it was a twisted compliment, a sincere warning or a thought on his mind, but I cycled as quickly as I could past any men that I came across for the rest of my journey. I was terrified and extremely vulnerable, being by myself on this quiet country lane. I did not stop again, paranoid that someone was now following behind me. And I was filled with absolute terror if I saw someone up ahead, eager to speed past them. On what should have been a Beatrix Potter kind of bike journey.
Anytime I head to some gay bar, the guys seem to think its okay to touch me and my female friends inappropriately without permission. Its okay if my male friends do it, because they’re my friend (and even then they wouldn’t touch me like that anyway), but a lot of men in the gay scene think they are entitled to touch my ass or my breasts and do the same thing to my female friends just because they are gay/bisexual. Im a lesbian woman hanging out with my mates in gay clubs and I don’t expect to be groped by men who then turn around and tell me “it’s okay im gay, I don’t fancy you, lighten up” as if that makes their inappropriate touching okay. If they aren’t touching my bum, they are feeling up my hair; If they aren’t commenting on my breasts, they are commenting on my friend’s bum. It’s pathetic, annoying and one of the reasons I don’t hang out in the scene much anymore.
Last week Hollaback! Dublin attended the first ever HOLLA::Revolution—a public speaker series and site leader retreat that took place in New York University. It’s a big statement to say you’re hosting a revolution. But there was no other word to describe what happened.
There were 17 speakers at the public event and all of them had messages that changed our worlds a little bit. Some of the highlights included (but were by no means limited to) the badass Nicola Briggs talking about successfully confronting her harasser on the New York subway in 2010, Rochelle Keyhan, Hollaback! Philly’s site leader, who taught us about the history of street harassment (or street mashing as it was known back in the 1800s), Ryann Holmes of Bklyn Boihood on street harassment from a boi’s point of view, THIS ridiculously funny (and accurate) video by Sasheer Zamata and Jimmie Briggs of the Man Up! Project who spoke wonderfully about encouraging healthy masculinity.
After the speaker series, 20 global Hollaback! site leaders (including site leaders from Dublin and Belfast) spent 3 days discussing the future of the Hollaback movement. It was an honour to be in a room full of such passionate and dedicated individuals and everyone left energised and ready to bring the revolution to their hometown!
I’m sure you’re dying to know what we came up with and here it is-we’re going to end street harassment! Ok, so it already says that at the top of the page, but it’s nice to be reminded. We talked about a lot of things at the retreat– group dynamics, time management, fundraising, crisis response, strategic planning—but all of it with the long term goal of making street harassment a thing of the past. Our long term goals sometimes get forgotten in the process of just trying to get people to acknowledge street harassment, so these were some great conversations to have.
We also found time for an awesome chalk walk in Washington Square Park. The chalk walk was widely well received and prompted so many conversations with people interested in Hollaback! We are spreading the message!
It was a revolution to be in a room full of men and women who know that street harassment is a real problem. It was a revolution to be in a room full of people who not just to recognize street harassment as a problem, but who are also finding amazing solutions to it. It was a revolution that everyone remembered to acknowledge the importance of intersectionality.
So we attended a revolution and we’re bringing it back to Dublin. We have a lot of plans for how we’re going to end street harassment in Dublin, and how you can help us to do it, so keep checking back to find out about them!
In general, I don’t find that street harassment is a huge problem in Dublin, it’s not so big that it’s difficult to live a normal life, as it can be in other cities. I have moved out of Ireland to other places where the level of harassment has made me feel like a prisoner in my own home, prompting me to join Hollaback. But, reading the stories has made me think of the first time I was harassed, and it did indeed, take place in Dublin.
I was 13 and was walking to my friend’s house after school in my school uniform. While walking on a busy road, a huge 18-wheeler lorry drove past me, with the driver blasting the horn and making lewd gestures at me with his tongue while screaming something that I couldn’t hear over the horn. It was so loud that I and everyone around me jumped in shock and the windows in the buildings nearby rattled. He drove off quickly.
At the time, if I had known what to do or where to go, maybe I would have made a note of his number plate, and acted accordingly. Or, perhaps a bystander would, since they all looked appropriately appalled.
This is by no means the worst experience of harassment that I’ve encountered (I could write a book), but now that I look back, I think it’s sad that street harassment is one of the first experiences of our sexuality that we women can have. And I use the term ‘we women’ because I bet every female around the world has experienced it. Also, harassment is never right, but it’s even worse when there’s an uncomfortable air of paedophilia around it, as there always is if it’s towards a schoolgirl (or boy) in uniform. I hope that when I have a daughter, society will have advanced, and she won’t have to experience it. The ironic thing is many of the harassers hope for the same thing for their own daughters.
One of the guys on my course, his name is Gerard, slapped me on the ass with his jacket. I turned straight to him and said “Don’t you EVER touch me again” He said something which I haven’t been able to remember. I was expecting him to apologise or be embarrassed about what he’d done but he wasn’t. After a few moments I realised I was upset and felt shaky and angry so I went up to my course tutor and asked if I could have a word with him. I walked into the room next to ours and told him that Gerard has slapped me on the ass with his jacket and that he hadn’t apologised when I’d said it to him. The tutor said he was shocked and that it was very serious and that he needed the advice of his manager on how to handle it. I went to the canteen and waited while my tutor talked to his manager and Gerard. His manager asked me if I wanted to make a formal complaint. I said I’d hear what Gerard had to say to me and if I felt he had a sincere apology I’d let it go. I went back to the classroom with my tutor and the tutor called Gerard in. I said “you slapped me on the ass with your jacket earlier on and that is completely unacceptable behaviour” Gerard refused to apologise, constantly looking down and away and saying, “if I touched you I’m sorry” I got angry hearing him say “if” – he also sniggered. I was shocked and disgusted by his attitude, he wasn’t sorry and he wasn’t taking responsibility for what he had done and for how it was effecting me – I said, “I’m here to study and its now 7pm (the course starts at 5pm) don’t insult me by saying “IF”, clearly something DID happen or I wouldn’t be here” I said he had given a poor excuse for an apology and that I was going to make a formal complaint.
He went home early. I stayed and finished the class.
I am the only woman on my course and its intimidating to be treated like that. I went ahead and made a formal complaint, I had to come in the next day. The report took three hours. I said that the outcome I would find acceptable would be for Gerard to leave the course. The fas people contacted him and he gave a statement denying everything I’d said but he agreed to leave the course. He accused me of upsetting him and making up stories about him. I was relieved that he left and successfully finished my course. The course tutor and others on the course were supportive of me and expressed anger and disgust at Gerard’s behaviour.
I want to share this because I don’t want Dublin to become what Brazil is nowadays – with 37 cases of rape per day in Sao Paulo.
It was about 8pm of a week day in 2012, and I was going to work, passing through Temple Bar area, when I crossed the way with two Italian guys. One of them, after saying something about my body, had the brilliant idea to push me against the wall of the Marquee building, cornering me, and putting his hands under my dress, touching my breast, there in the middle of the street, for no reason but his own pleasure and demonstration of power.
The other guy laughed as I tried to get rid off the hands of the first one and asked him, crying, to stop. Then, after his “joke”, and the first humiliation, when I thought I would be able to keep walking, he held me against the wall, and the second one did the same.
I felt like my body was not mine, and I had no right about it, cause it’s seemed like a toy for judgement or pleasure of people that I have never met in my life. There was no garda around, but even if they were there, I wonder if my words about what just happened would make any difference for those Italian guys, that were “just having the craic”, and I am the one who didn’t see any fun on this.
They left laughing, and I kept my way crying with a bitter taste in my mouth for being a woman in this world.