After several mostly hassle-free weeks, Indian men have
amped up the harassment factor. Yes, they have always stared and leered and
made smooching noises, but before this week, no one but little boys actually touched me.
So first, while walking around Old Delhi, someone slid his hand down my butt. I whirled around. “WHAT THE FUCK! DON’T DO THAT!” I smacked him in the chest. He didn’t look at me, and moved to the other side, and I turned toward him and smacked him again on the chest. The guy tried to point to another guy, but he was the only one there when I turned around. My guy friend grabbed the culprit and muttered something, though I doubt my harasser understood.
Then I came to Mumbai, and it’s just been a series of subtle but obvious touches since. I went to a small hospital near my hostel after midnight due to a, um, rabies scare (it was nothing, I just wanted to be sure!). The night watchman had to let me in. He came in the tiny elevator with me and as I left it, he put his hand on my waist. I quickly moved away. When I left the hospital the night watchman again had to unlock the door. After I stepped through I felt him brush my butt. I turned around, yelled, “What?!” and then pushed him face first against the metal grate that covered the door. “Don’t touch me.”
Then I walked the three blocks home and noticed that a man was walking the same way near me. I paused to let him pass and followed him. But when I got to my hostel the door was locked and the guard not there. I began banging on the door. The man walking ahead of me stopped and turned around. He began calling out to me and making motions to his dick. I realized he was drunk. He kept saying something to me, and I kept banging on the door and saying in a sing-song voice (matching the man’s tone), “Fucker, fucker, fucker.” He wouldn’t go away, and I said, “Are you kidding? I would fuck you up.” He came closer and I took out my camera because I wanted evidence of the guy. Finally the guard came to let me in.
The latest incident happened when I toured the Dharavi slum. We were walking in a narrow alleyway and I stepped aside to let two men pass and one of them brushed my thigh with his hand. I would say it’s the fact I’m a single female, but two of these incidents happened while I was in the company of male travelers or friends. Sometimes I walk with my hands behind my back so men are less likely to grab my ass. I know I shouldn’t hit them, but when they touch me inappropriately, I feel like doing something so they know we women won’t just take it.
So first, while walking around Old Delhi, someone slid his hand down my butt. I whirled around. “WHAT THE FUCK! DON’T DO THAT!” I smacked him in the chest. He didn’t look at me, and moved to the other side, and I turned toward him and smacked him again on the chest. The guy tried to point to another guy, but he was the only one there when I turned around. My guy friend grabbed the culprit and muttered something, though I doubt my harasser understood.
Then I came to Mumbai, and it’s just been a series of subtle but obvious touches since. I went to a small hospital near my hostel after midnight due to a, um, rabies scare (it was nothing, I just wanted to be sure!). The night watchman had to let me in. He came in the tiny elevator with me and as I left it, he put his hand on my waist. I quickly moved away. When I left the hospital the night watchman again had to unlock the door. After I stepped through I felt him brush my butt. I turned around, yelled, “What?!” and then pushed him face first against the metal grate that covered the door. “Don’t touch me.”
Then I walked the three blocks home and noticed that a man was walking the same way near me. I paused to let him pass and followed him. But when I got to my hostel the door was locked and the guard not there. I began banging on the door. The man walking ahead of me stopped and turned around. He began calling out to me and making motions to his dick. I realized he was drunk. He kept saying something to me, and I kept banging on the door and saying in a sing-song voice (matching the man’s tone), “Fucker, fucker, fucker.” He wouldn’t go away, and I said, “Are you kidding? I would fuck you up.” He came closer and I took out my camera because I wanted evidence of the guy. Finally the guard came to let me in.
The latest incident happened when I toured the Dharavi slum. We were walking in a narrow alleyway and I stepped aside to let two men pass and one of them brushed my thigh with his hand. I would say it’s the fact I’m a single female, but two of these incidents happened while I was in the company of male travelers or friends. Sometimes I walk with my hands behind my back so men are less likely to grab my ass. I know I shouldn’t hit them, but when they touch me inappropriately, I feel like doing something so they know we women won’t just take it.
2 comments:
Sorry to hear about your bad experience. Not all Indian men are like that. You should have visited South India, like Goa and Kerala. People in South India are more hospitable and friendly to foreigners. Visitors don't have to worry about harassment, rape, or bombings. There aren't any slums in South India, it's all green lands, lakes, and waterfalls.
Hey Mike,
I do know not all Indian men are gropers; I hope I didn't imply that! I've been in South India the last few weeks and you're right--people are more used to foreigners. I can even wear tank tops and not be stared at too much.
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