Home Gender Women #WhyWomenDontReport: ‘Can’t Count How Many Times I’ve Been Groped’
#WhyWomenDontReport: ‘Can’t Count How Many Times I’ve Been Groped’
Often sexual harassment in public is frequent or just takes place too quickly. And this is #WhyWomenDontReport.
Taruni Kumar
Women
Updated:
i
Often sexual harassment in public is frequent or just takes place too quickly. And this is why women don’t report.
(Photo: The Quint/Hardeep Singh)
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Ever been groped or made to feel uncomfortable in a public place? On a bus perhaps? Or while walking down the road? Nearly every woman has a story of some kind of assault or harassment that happened when they were in a public place. But often, these incidents are very frequent or just take place too quickly. And this is #WhyWomenDontReport.
The Quint in collaboration with ‘How Revealing’, a website aimed at providing a safe space for sharing sexual assault stories, is trying to help women speak out. Here are their experiences.
Young and Scared
I can’t count the number of times I was groped (both my breasts and butt). All this had happened when I had just reached puberty. I was quite young...Once it happened at a railway station, when we were rushing for a train. That time I didn’t even understand that I was sexually harassed. Later, it happened when I was walking in a market with my parents. This time, I felt very hurt and scared in total disbelief of what had happened in that fraction of second. It has happened just so many times, I can’t recollect any more incidents. Each one almost similar.
I had recently joined a college to do my BA in psychology. Everything was new and exciting – new friends and new experiences! Then I had an experience against my will which transformed all this excitement and enthusiasm that I was feeling into a dark knotted ball of anxiety and anger. I was with my friends in a BMTC bus (201D) going to Koramangala from Indiranagar. We were all wearing kurtas and salwars (not that it should matter), no make-up on our young faces and textbooks in hand. We started off in the ladies section and before you know it, we were pushed towards the male section. I was merrily chatting away with a friend completely oblivious to the danger of being in this space and that’s when I felt something very hard pressed against my lower back. I had no idea what that was and when it started to move against my kurta i felt dirty and scared. A hand then pressed against my butt and slowly pinched it a few times. I was scared. Too scared to look back. I looked at my friends and said we need to get off. They must have seen the fear in my eyes as they agreed to jump off without question. The bus had slowed in traffic and we jumped out. I had a patch on my kurta. I wept all the way to college in an auto.
One summer, when I was around 18, my family decided to take a trip to the water park. I was sitting between my uncle and my aunt. My cousin, who was only three or four at the time, was sitting between my legs – I was holding him as we went down the water slide. The park was crowded, and I was staying close to my family anyway, but either my uncle slid too soon or maybe I was late to start sliding. I remember feeling lips on my shoulder, a graze down the side of my breast, and quick press on my back that, to this day, I wish was just a child standing behind me. I held my cousin tight, and I slid down the water slide. At the bottom, a man stood facing us, hoping we would slide into him. I avoided him desperately. I didn’t get into the water again that day, choosing to remain in the shade with my grandfather and grandmother. I’ve always loved the water, so they asked me why I didn’t choose to go back onto the slide. I couldn’t tell them that I was too scared to go back. I was wearing long pants, long-sleeved top when the incident happened.