1. lumpinhateu asked: Hi, I just noticed you reblogged me on here and well I'm a male and I don't know if you knew that. Just wanted to let you know in case it didn't go with your blog. But, if you knew and that was the reason, um I'm hoping it didn't offend you. I just like it.

    we aren’t offended. Thanks for reading.

  2. carolinetompkins:

    Hello Everyone,

    For the past two years, I’ve been working on a project in which I photograph men that harass (/catcall) me on the street. The work is still in progress, but I’ve decided to put up a selection here and a more extensive selection on my website:


    The purpose of the work is largely to create a dialogue, so please, take a look, ask questions, comments, share it around, thanks for looking-


  3. lumpinhateu:

    I like getting catcalled.


  5. Fat Whores

    I’m catcalled very often (I live in a rougher area adjacent to downtown) but what happened tonight was a little more unique than the usual “Nice ass!” or just horn-honking.  I left the house with my dog for a walk and a car full of 20-something men slows down and yells “I like your dog” out the window.  Since I don’t feel that I owe a car of Schrodinger’s rapists my attention I stared straight ahead and kept walking as if I didn’t hear them so they continued 'I said I like your dog you fat whore!” which was a startling escalation and that, in essence, is why catcalling is so terrifying.  A man feels entitled to my attention and when I don’t respond they get increasingly violent.  I’m a “fat whore” (in reality I am neither overweight nor a sex-worker, so these applied labels are absurd) because I don’t give a shit what you think of my dog?  Is my dog also a fat whore for not wanting anything to do with you?  Is everyone who doesn’t care about your male entitlement a ‘fat whore?’ 


  6. I was walking to the Myrtle-Broadway stop in Bushwick early in the morning, around 6:30am. Wearing a long coat, jeans and a scarf covering half of my face. As I cross the street to go up the stairs to the elevated platform, a group of man hanging out outside a Deli start screaming “HEY GIRLLLL HOW ARE YOU IS YOUR DAY BETTER THAN YESTERDAY” I sort of smiled trying to not be rude, since they weren’t saying anything rude, they were just obnoxious and loud for 6:30am. As I walked up, one of the dudes said “YEAH GIRL WALK UP, I WANT YOU TO SIT ON MY FACE”…. At this point I couldn’t take it. The line was crossed. This happens to me EVERY DAY. IT WAS 6:30AM….! I yelled from the stairs, down at him “WHAT THE FUCK DUDE!? SHOW SOME RESPECT! JESUS!”. I felt dirty, unprotected and upset that whole day. There were several men also going up the stairs with me that morning, and they said NOTHING. No reaction whatsoever. Why do we have to deal with this… EVERYDAY?


  7. My first experience with catcalling was when I was walking away from the college my dad works at. I was wearing one of my favorite shirts and my favorite bra, so it’s needless to say I felt kinda good about myself. Then a couple of drunk college boys started yelling at me from their truck and making loud sex noises. My dad was with me, and I was fourteen. It was ridiculous.

    The second time, a few months later, I was walking down the street with my friend and her mom. We were going to homecoming, so we were wearing nice dresses and makeup and all that. Then some guy honked at us from his car. He literally honked at a 15 year old and a 14 year old with a mom. I’m beginning to think that these people have no limits…


  8. I’ve been very lucky in that I haven’t received many unpleasant catcalls, and have received several genuine-sounding compliments. I’m a redhead, and men and women both sometimes stop me in the street to say they like my hair. It’s nice. I tell them I like theirs too. Then we go about our days, and everything is fine.

    The scariest catcall I’ve ever gotten was when I was fifteen. I was walking either to or from my secondary school (I forget which), wearing a jumper and jeans because it was cold, and a man called me over to his car. I thought he was going to ask for directions and since I was practising being confident I decided I’d go over and help. Instead he said “every time I see you, you look yummier and yummier.” I was genuinely shocked so I just stared at him. “It’s a compliment,” he prompted. Finally I managed to blurt out “I’m FIFTEEN!” He told me it was a compliment again, and just kept staring at me and smiling/leering. I walked quickly away and felt terrified. When I got home I told my parents, and they told me to tell them if I saw him again. They were angry. My parents never so much as hinted that street harassment was anything other than scary and creepy. Thank God for my parents.

    Now I’m 22 and usually quite good at holding my own when people are creepy, I almost wish I could find him again. “I was fifteen,” I’d say. “You, sir, are the biggest creep I’ve ever encountered, and I sincerely hope they didn’t let you breed.”


  9. Anonymous asked: Im a high school student, and the other day I was out walking my dog. It was hot out, so naturally I found it fitting to wear shorts. I had only made it 2 blocks from my home, when a group of boys started catcalling me and one shouted "Hey Baby, let me get a piece of that ass!". It really bothers me that I can't just enjoy a nice summer day without being harassed. It's guys like these that make me afraid to wear anything but sweatpants or to just leave my house in general.


  10. This is also on my blog, but since you guys are who I found (and who helped me feel less isolated) after a long day in Manhattan, I wanted to share directly with you as well.

    My recent experiences with catcalling:  

    I was in Atlantic City with my younger sister and two of her (and my sort of) friends (they’re sixteen..and not an experienced sixteen).  We were walking around 9pm on the boardwalk, wearing nothing attractive (we’d been dancing all day), by nothing attractive I mean sweatpants, t shirts, and sweaty hair in high buns.  A few drunk high school losers yelled loudly, “Shake those buns bitches.”  They yelled it a few times.  I was feeling particularly pissed off this night and not at all threatened by these boys so I gave them an absolute death glare to see how they would react, and I didn’t break eye contact.  I watched one boy say to his friend “oh shit she heard us.”  So I yelled, “what you can’t say it to my face???”  To which he replied again, “shake those buns bitches.”  I rolled my eyes and went to tell my parents who were with another family a ways back what had happened.  When I told them guys were messing with us on the boardwalk, they laughed.  I was mortified.  I’m not sure what I actually wanted them to do…but it certainly wasn’t that.  

    This week I’ve been in New York.  As you can assume, I’ve had a number of experiences.  My most significant experience was the over night when I was walking back to my hotel with my sister around 9:30PM, a man shoving brochures in faces just past time square must’ve been irritated I, (along with EVERYONE ELSE) ignored him and kept walking, when I was about 100 feet away he yelled, “you got a nice phat ass though.”  (Yeah I spelled fat with a “p” because I’ve been living in my body long enough to understand that’s what was intended)  I tried to brush it off but it really shook me, because he didn’t make kissy noises and call me baby he actually objectified a part of my body LOUDLY in front of 15 tourists and my little sister.  Later when I told my Dad what he said, he laughed.  His laughter upset my sister more than it upset me, and that’s what bothered me most.  She should not have to grow up in the world where this is normal and acceptable behavior.  

    My problem with cat calling is the extent to which men DO NOT understand why it is so upsetting.  (to be clear I am not a hater of men in general at all…I love men…and know many great ones, the problem is one of misunderstanding, not a baseline problem with men)  It’s not like my opinion depends intensely on what you say.  But catcalling makes me feel vulnerable, degraded, the list goes on…not because of the actual words necessarily, but because it reminds me that for some strange reason our culture teaches boys that for some reason when women walk on the streets they become objects for them to enjoy, and express said enjoyment in whatever way.  This is a culture where although we proclaim to be “equal” women are taught from a young age that they have to be extra cautious, dress “appropriately,” and never walk alone at night.  I’m not sure how we fix it, but I’m pretty positive it isn’t by ignoring it, and always walking in groups of 4+ wearing a winter coat and snow pants probably isn’t particularly practical.