Porn in a flash:A troubling surge in creepy "upskirt" photography has lawmakers in a twist -- and the body parts of women posted all over the Internet.
By Tracy Clark-Flory
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
I am Still Angry Two Years Later
This is a few years late, but I just found your blog. I think it's fantastic and I want to share this story so that if anyone comes across this guy, they know what to do!
In December 2006, I was riding the #77 Belmont bus. I'd hopped it around 9 p.m. at Belmont and Racine and was taking it to the Blue Line at Kimball. The bus was crowded, and I ended up standing. I was wearing plaid tights and knee-high boots. Immediately, a red-faced man between 35-40 struck up a conversation. He was obviously developmentally disabled. He said, "I like your tights. Are those boots comfortable?" I thought he was asking because I'd gotten stuck standing on the bus. Indeed, they were NOT comfortable, so I said, "No, they're not, but sometimes you have to suffer for fashion, haha." He then said, "Do you like to go barefoot?" Honestly, at this point I thought I was being a nice person by engaging with a somewhat slow guy, and there were tons of people on the bus. I do like to go barefoot, so I said "yes." He asked again, "Do you like to go barefoot?" And I said, "Yeah, I like to go barefoot sometimes, in the summer." He asked me to repeat myself. I did, thinking he hadn't heard me. The he said, "You like to do what?" I slowly figured out that he was really trying to get me to say the word "barefoot." At this point I was creeped out, so when a seat toward the middle of the bus opened up, I immediately made a beeline for it. Unfortunately, another seat opened up right across the aisle, and he took it. He kept staring at me, repeating the question, trying to get me to say "barefoot," and I could see that he had an erection and was rubbing it through his jeans. I ignored him. Several of the passengers clearly could see what was happening, and kept giving me sympathetic looks, but no one said anything. Inside my head I was thinking, "Should I get off at my stop, or should I wait for him to get off? How come no one is stopping him?" Finally the bus pulled into Belmont and Kimball, and I got off and ran down the stairs, embarrassed and scared that he would follow me down into the L. He didn't.
The worst part is, the very next day, I walked into the Green Eye bar at Western and Homer to meet my boyfriend at the time, who worked there. The FIRST person I saw when I walked in was...Foot Fetishist Man. I approached my boyfriend and said, "Do you know that guy sitting at the end of the bar, closest to the door?" He said, "Yeah, that's Lenny. He's a regular. A little slow, but he's a cool dude." I said, "Um, that's the guy I called you about. The bus masturbator." My boyfriend freaked out and threatened to beat him up, but I told him to cool it.
Now, though, I wish I'd said something. I felt doubly helpless: the other witnesses made me feel like I was imagining things because they didn't react in any way. And, because the guy was obviously slow, I felt like I shouldn't have said or done anything. Just because he was disabled doesn't make what he did acceptable in any way. I should have loudly and clearly said, "Stop masturbating to me. You are sexually harassing me, it's illegal, and I will call the police." The moral of the story: Ladies, speak up for yourselves. I'm still angry about this two years later. And if you ever find yourself talking a guy named Lenny on the bus or at the Green Eye, excuse yourselves and call the cops if necessary.
~Submitted by Sheila
In December 2006, I was riding the #77 Belmont bus. I'd hopped it around 9 p.m. at Belmont and Racine and was taking it to the Blue Line at Kimball. The bus was crowded, and I ended up standing. I was wearing plaid tights and knee-high boots. Immediately, a red-faced man between 35-40 struck up a conversation. He was obviously developmentally disabled. He said, "I like your tights. Are those boots comfortable?" I thought he was asking because I'd gotten stuck standing on the bus. Indeed, they were NOT comfortable, so I said, "No, they're not, but sometimes you have to suffer for fashion, haha." He then said, "Do you like to go barefoot?" Honestly, at this point I thought I was being a nice person by engaging with a somewhat slow guy, and there were tons of people on the bus. I do like to go barefoot, so I said "yes." He asked again, "Do you like to go barefoot?" And I said, "Yeah, I like to go barefoot sometimes, in the summer." He asked me to repeat myself. I did, thinking he hadn't heard me. The he said, "You like to do what?" I slowly figured out that he was really trying to get me to say the word "barefoot." At this point I was creeped out, so when a seat toward the middle of the bus opened up, I immediately made a beeline for it. Unfortunately, another seat opened up right across the aisle, and he took it. He kept staring at me, repeating the question, trying to get me to say "barefoot," and I could see that he had an erection and was rubbing it through his jeans. I ignored him. Several of the passengers clearly could see what was happening, and kept giving me sympathetic looks, but no one said anything. Inside my head I was thinking, "Should I get off at my stop, or should I wait for him to get off? How come no one is stopping him?" Finally the bus pulled into Belmont and Kimball, and I got off and ran down the stairs, embarrassed and scared that he would follow me down into the L. He didn't.
The worst part is, the very next day, I walked into the Green Eye bar at Western and Homer to meet my boyfriend at the time, who worked there. The FIRST person I saw when I walked in was...Foot Fetishist Man. I approached my boyfriend and said, "Do you know that guy sitting at the end of the bar, closest to the door?" He said, "Yeah, that's Lenny. He's a regular. A little slow, but he's a cool dude." I said, "Um, that's the guy I called you about. The bus masturbator." My boyfriend freaked out and threatened to beat him up, but I told him to cool it.
Now, though, I wish I'd said something. I felt doubly helpless: the other witnesses made me feel like I was imagining things because they didn't react in any way. And, because the guy was obviously slow, I felt like I shouldn't have said or done anything. Just because he was disabled doesn't make what he did acceptable in any way. I should have loudly and clearly said, "Stop masturbating to me. You are sexually harassing me, it's illegal, and I will call the police." The moral of the story: Ladies, speak up for yourselves. I'm still angry about this two years later. And if you ever find yourself talking a guy named Lenny on the bus or at the Green Eye, excuse yourselves and call the cops if necessary.
~Submitted by Sheila
Sunday, November 02, 2008
We CAN Fight Back Against Sexual Harassment
I didn’t have a cellphone with me when this outrageous incident happened but I didn’t need one to cut this slimy guy down to size!
Everyday I have to take the elevator to the 24th floor where our office is located and most mornings it’s ridiculously crowded. Last Monday, I boarded the elevator and as more people got in, I got pushed way to the back. To my annoyance, I felt the man behind me pushing his private parts into the groove between my buttocks. There was absolutely no room to move forward. As the elevator rose, he quickly developed a definite hard-on.
“Ewww, gross!” I thought. And I turned my head to give him my best angry glare. That’s when I saw who it was: The VP of marketing, one of my bosses. I can’t use his name so let’s just call him Mr. Asswipe. He gives this sheepish smile and a helpless, “Hey, what ya gonna do?” shrug. Well, in this economy, who wants to risk losing their job? So instead of giving him a piece of my mind, I just glanced away and for the next 30 seconds I had to just grit my teeth and bear it.
We all got off on 24 and that would have been it – an embarrassing but forgettable incident - except that at 5 pm when work was over, the asshole tried the very same thing! I don’t know how he did it, but when we all boarded the elevator, Mr. Asswipe managed to position himself right behind me again. This time, the elevator seemed to stop on every floor on the way down and every time, more people crammed on, forcing me back into him. And on this trip, the pig got much raunchier. His penis was not only fully erect, he was grinding it against my backside like some horny teenage boy freak-dancing at the junior prom. Finally I had had enough. I went totally Charlton Heston on him. I elbowed him in the side and snarled, “Get your stinking little prick out of my ass!”
Everyday I have to take the elevator to the 24th floor where our office is located and most mornings it’s ridiculously crowded. Last Monday, I boarded the elevator and as more people got in, I got pushed way to the back. To my annoyance, I felt the man behind me pushing his private parts into the groove between my buttocks. There was absolutely no room to move forward. As the elevator rose, he quickly developed a definite hard-on.
“Ewww, gross!” I thought. And I turned my head to give him my best angry glare. That’s when I saw who it was: The VP of marketing, one of my bosses. I can’t use his name so let’s just call him Mr. Asswipe. He gives this sheepish smile and a helpless, “Hey, what ya gonna do?” shrug. Well, in this economy, who wants to risk losing their job? So instead of giving him a piece of my mind, I just glanced away and for the next 30 seconds I had to just grit my teeth and bear it.
We all got off on 24 and that would have been it – an embarrassing but forgettable incident - except that at 5 pm when work was over, the asshole tried the very same thing! I don’t know how he did it, but when we all boarded the elevator, Mr. Asswipe managed to position himself right behind me again. This time, the elevator seemed to stop on every floor on the way down and every time, more people crammed on, forcing me back into him. And on this trip, the pig got much raunchier. His penis was not only fully erect, he was grinding it against my backside like some horny teenage boy freak-dancing at the junior prom. Finally I had had enough. I went totally Charlton Heston on him. I elbowed him in the side and snarled, “Get your stinking little prick out of my ass!”
The look on his face was priceless. He turned completely red – and his penis wilted like a wet noodle. He backed off me and looked like he wished he could disappear. Everyone on the elevator was staring at him.
Well, it turned out I didn’t lose my job. The powers that be got wind of what happened and read Mr. Asswipe the riot act. He’s been ordered to attend sensitivity classes and everything. Meanwhile, a coworker told me that the firm can’t fire me anytime in the foreseeable future because they’re terrified that if they do, I’ll sue the pants off them for sexual harassment – which you can bet I would!
Sisters, we CAN fight back against these predators. I hope this story inspires others to do so.
~Submitted by Laura W.
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