Hands up if you’ve experienced street harassment.

Cath Elliott has written an excellent piece on street harassment over at The Guardian’s Comment is Free, and once again the comments section has filled up with comments from arrogant little pricks whose thoughts on the matter can be summed up in one of three ways:

(1) When will these bloody misandrist women stop whinging and get the hell off the net?

(2) Street harassment hardly ever happens and it’s all ironic, harmless fun anyway.

(3) But women love it and ask for it – look, they’ve got boobs!

I really don’t think I need to waste any time taking down these these charming (for the most part) gentlemens, so instead I thought I’d ask for a quick hands up of anyone who’s experienced street harassment; no need to leave a description or anything unless you want to, just a nod to show how depressingly normal street harassment is. And because, unlike the CiF commenters, I actually understand that street harassment is one of those things whose effect can only be measured and understood by the victim, you get to define what it is.

I’ll start the ball rolling with a big hands up (and that’s just one of many).

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