By Imogène Taveau, Year 12
Ask almost any girl over the age of 14 and it’ll be the same story; on the bus, on the tram, walking back from school, meeting up with a friend for coffee, the usual scenarios. Whether it was one guy or many, physical contact or purely verbal, the fact remains that this is completely out of order, yet happens so frequently that it’s practically commonplace.
I remember the first experience I had with sexual harassment like it was yesterday. I was 13 at the time, still in middle school, and on the tram going home, when a middle-aged man came in through the doors. I thought nothing of it, nestled in the corner flicking through the songs on my iPod until a voice right next to me said “you’re very beautiful”. I looked up to find this face directly in front of mine, breathing heavily, the vile stench of their breath wafting into my nose, stinging my eyes, curling down the back of my throat as they breathed right into my gaping mouth. Stammering for words I mumbled out a subdued “thank you” looking around the quiet tram for someone to make eye contact with and get me out of that position. A metre away stood a boy from my village playing a game on his phone. I knew him well; our parents were friends and we used to give him a lift to school every morning. Our eyes met, he held my gaze for a few seconds, before looking back down at his phone. It was at this point that I felt a large, protruding belly against my stomach, pushing me further into the corner, that sickening smell still clogging my airways as I was asked “do you think I’m beautiful?”. Nothing but empty noises came out of me, and I was asked again “do you think I’m beautiful?”. Again, nothing. “Tell me I’m beautiful”, the centimetres between us shortening to the point where I could see every tiny hair, every blood vessel, every fleck of spit. At last I reached my stop, apologised to the man, and ran out, calling my mother in tears. I brushed my teeth for 20 minutes when I got home but the taste still lingered in my mouth.
I’ve experienced many incidences since then but that one still stands out the most to me due to my young age and the fact that that was the first time I was being exposed to such things. I kept quiet about it for a long time, but when I finally mentioned it in a conversation with a friend, she told me about a similar experience. Another conversation with another girl also revealed that this was not an experience unique to me. Bit by bit, I discovered the horrific truth that this is a monthly, if not weekly, occurrence, to almost all girls, even as young as 12 and 13, and yet it just isn’t spoken about, and I find that very concerning. Sometimes it’s not even strangers, but people known to them that continue to harass them. These are just a few of the disturbing accounts I’ve been given. For privacy reasons all names have been changed.
Diana, 17: “[the boy] has been chasing me for a few months and every time I tell him no, it doesn’t really matter to him. He’s always talking about the future relationship we will have and that we are meant for each other. Despite me telling him that I don’t want a relationship he says he will wait and that it doesn’t matter if I don’t have any feelings for him, “the feelings will come”. There is also the constant demand for me to send him pictures of my boobs and other parts of my body.”
Natasha, 15: “I had my ass grabbed repeatedly on a crowded bus.”
Shuri, 17: “I was going out for the evening as it was my birthday. A middle-aged man entered [the tram] and complimented me on my jumper. I thought it was a little strange but thanked him anyway. He stood behind me. The tram suddenly brakes, and he catches himself on my coat. He doesn’t let go. He slides his hand down to my ass and gropes it. I moved forward, and he put his left arm around me and grabbed my boob. Then this young man pushed him away. I got off [the tram] and called my mum to go fetch me. I got home and cancelled my plans.”
Kamala, 16: “A friend and I were walking to the bus stop and some dudes slowed down their car next to us and told us that their hotel room was in the building next to us and if we would come by later.”
Jean,16: “I was waiting at the bus stop when a man walked up to me and tried to touch my chest. I told him to stop and pushed him away. He tried again. I told him to stop again and he left. There was no one around, just a busy street with a lot of cars. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t left me alone.”
In my investigation into people’s experiences I was often told that it was “just catcalling, nothing worth talking about”. The normalisation of such experiences is so degrading and detrimental to young girls all over the world, and it happens everywhere. Geneva is supposed to be a safe city, yet this is happening on a daily basis, and no one is speaking out. They didn’t for me, and they didn’t for most other girls. That leaves me with one question, particularly to those bystanders who sit and watch in passive apathy. Why the silence?
