Why didn’t I women don’t report sexual harassment on the streets
Written by Anonymous.
I’ve never faced much harassment in UK but the worst one I faced was in France. It was a gruelling 40 mins episode and it shook me so much that for the first time in my life I actually considered reporting them. And now that I look back at it, it’s surprising that it’s the first time I thought about it. When I was in Pakistan — getting harassed on the street was such a part of my daily life. My mother insisted my maid accompanied me to the shops as its more difficult for men to touch you if you’re in a pair (only slightly — nothing stops a determined man for reaching down your clothes or squeezing your butt). Father asking me not to walk from school to car park. Boyfriend (now ex) asking me not to go ANYWHERE without him where ‘poor people hang out’. I never once thought of reporting anyone to the police because it’s not in our culture to do so. But here’s the thing — I never even discussed it with my mother, father or brother. I used to tell my friends but then I stopped telling my male friends and I knew better than to tell my boyfriend. Why? My brother would just want to make sure my driver always accompanied me and I didn’t want that. My male friends wanted to beat the guy up or ask me to wait for other friends to be available before going the shops. My boyfriend told me I was disgracing him by discussing it in front of his friends because they would think I wanted it. Yes, I want random strangers cupping my breasts, brushing against me ever so slyly and reaching down my trousers. My parents would have stopped me going out un-chaperoned. So the only choice left to me was talk to my female friends and that’s it.
Why didn’t I tell my parents? Because of three things
(1) all options restricted my mobility — something that’s very dear to me
(2) all instances of harassment for me only happened where the socio-economic divide was stark. The men who abused me clearly looked like they were from small towns, and my privilege shone like like the sun in their eyes. They would often say things like ‘rich slut’ or ‘spoilt prostitute’ to me when they did it. I didn’t want them to go to jail — rob their families of income and get beat up seriously by people who loved me or the police because in Pakistan, things escalate so quickly. Here, I would feel so much more comfortable reporting someone because I know the police will (at least I think so) try to act within a set of rules.
(3) Because I was so tired of hearing ‘WOMEN ARE THE ROOT OF ALL PROBLEMS.’ OR ‘ONLY A WOMAN COMES BETWEEN MEN’. I didn’t want to prove them right. I didn’t want to be the problem people discussed. The vulnerable, breakable, fragile thing that men in my life fought about. That idea was more sickening to me than being groped or being told that I was going to be raped so bad, nobody would look at me twice. My freedom to go about my life, shop, meet friends, walk in parks was far more important to me than getting justice.
I never talk about my experiences because these problems are so much beyond me but— being fair is our responsibility. I can see how in many countries, reporting sexual assault becomes a method police uses to abuse minorities.
As Laura Bates says, a lot of this is to do with how we raise men. We teach them that they are guardians of women, keep them away from any sexual education, ask them not to play with girls as soon as puberty hits and parents think this will inculcate a sense of morality and chivalry in them. They think, well, he would never do this to his sister so why would he do to someone else's sister? Alas, if only everyone thought like that. That doesn’t work. Teach boys to love and respect their bodies, so they do the same to others. Teach boys they do not own the body of women — no matter how much or less she is wearing. Teach them that words hurt and it’s not cool to do that. Respect starts at home and at school — both places where we let boys and girls down.
