Written submission from a member of the public (SPP0030)

By the time I was a grown women I’d grown used to men and boys making remarks to me in the street and I would just ignore it. My attitude changed after my first year of university. I was out at a bar in [location] with my best friend, we were having a good time and felt good in ourselves. We’d dressed up in nice dresses, done our hair and makeup, not for anyone but ourselves. At about one in the morning we were on the dance floor, facing each other and dancing in our own little world, when a guy came up behind me and grabbed me, pulling my body to his. Within seconds his hands were up my skirt, ripping my tights and his fingers clawing at the edges of my underwear.

In this moment, my first thought was, how is this happening to me? My next thought was get the hell off! I’d taken some self defence classes, so I managed to through my elbow back into his ribs before swinging around and catching him in the corner of the eye with my fist and the rings on my fingers. I turned around and shouted ‘No! What gives you the right to touch me!’ The next thing I know the bouncer has come over and is asking me to leave. I tell him that this guy had just sexually harassed me and the bouncer replied with, ‘He’s had a few too many, doesn’t excuse you using violence.’ I was thrown out of a bar for defending myself.

After that day my attitude changed. Four years later, I’m not a student anymore. I’m a grown women, I have a job, I pay taxes. I was walking to work earlier this week, it’s dark and there aren’t many people about because its seven in the morning. I’m alone, walking the ten minute walk to work. As I’m walking through the streets of [location], two grown men, builders by the looks of their clothes, walk up to me. One makes a weird ‘oh’ sound and the other licks his lips and says, ‘That’s what I need in my life, a wife.’

Straight away my mind goes back to the bar and I’m reminded of the disgust I felt after that man touched me and the anger and shame I felt after being thrown out. I shout back, ‘Keep dreaming.’ He answers back, telling me to steady on and he calls me love.

I walk the rest of the journey to work, head down and a quick pace, hoping they’re not following me. There’s no one around, I couldn’t call for help if they decided to do more than just lear at me.

January 2018