Last weekend it was my birthday… In the immortal words of the song “she’s flirty, turned thirty, about the age a girl gets really dirty”. (What? It’s from “She’s So Lovely” by Scouting for Girls. Ok, it’s not one of the all-time classics.) Anyway, thanks for asking, I had a fantastic time – I managed to start the celebrations two weeks before my actual birthday, and still have some partying left to do. Unfortunately last weekend also marked another milestone, as it was the first time I’ve been groped by a stranger two nights in a row.
Now, I’ll start by saying that the groping was pretty mild – someone giving my arse a quick squeeze. (That’s ass, for our American readers). Though actually even as I’m typing, I’m getting a little pissed off at myself for diminishing what happened in this way. Let’s make no bones about it, my personal space was invaded without my consent. It sort of says something rather chilling about how perhaps I’ve been socially conditioned to see a little light groping by a stranger as acceptable, or that maybe I should be grateful they only squeezed my arse.
Anyway, on the Friday night I’d gone to a gig with a good friend of mine because his fiancée was on nights and so he had a spare ticket. We found ourselves a prime spot between the bar and the sound desk, and generally had a really good time. I find it impossible not to move to music I’m enjoying, and had been employing the full range of motion from the gentle sway to the full-on pogo. As is the way of these things, you bump against your fellow gig-goers from time to time, no harm, no foul. But at one point, there was an unmistakeable hand groping my arse – not just an accidental brush against, but actual fingertips gripping in to the flesh. I slapped the hand away and turned and glared at the man standing behind me, who was responsible. Imagine my surprise when a couple of songs later the same thing happened again. So, how did I respond? I asked my mate to switch places with me. And a moment later the groping man (Homus Gropus?) sloped off, never to be seen again.
One down, one to go. On the Saturday night a few friends came round to drink cocktails and eat cupcakes, and then some of us went into town to drink more cocktails and have a bit of a boogie. All was going very well on a packed dancefloor, until one of my mates pointed out that the man dancing behind her had just groped her arse. So, I switched places with her. Apparently I have a magical belief that switching places improves any uninvited groping situation. How wrong I was that night. It will, I’m sure, surprise no-one when I say that a few moments later he gave my arse a good squeeze too. At which point I employed the tried and tested barge-backwards-firmly-while-stamping-down-hard-with-your-stiletto-heel manoeuvre. Sadly, I missed his foot but he seemed to get the message and didn’t trouble us again.
I have lots of thoughts about these two events, but in both cases I feel slightly sad and a little angry that I didn’t make a big deal out of it. Why didn’t I shout out at the guy at the gig? Why didn’t I tell my mate why I wanted to switch places? Given that I had been assaulted, why didn’t I tell security or report it to the police? Why did my friend and I, who were both felt up by the same man within minutes of each other make jokes about him nearly being a contender for some sort of synchronised groping event at the London 2012 Olympics? I kind of accepted this behaviour as an inevitable part of a night out. Of course, sadly it probably is an inevitable part of a night out. I expect if I asked my female friends, we would have an enormous list of similar experiences. I’m not so sure how my male friends would answer, but I’d be willing to put money on it being much less common.
I’m also sort of interested in a way, in Homus Gropus. What makes him tick? Why does he do the things he does? Were these the random acts of men who’d had too much to drink, and live in a world where women are so constantly presented to them merely as sexual objects they can’t control their most basic urges? Was this some clumsy and misguided mating ritual, or was the groping an end in itself? (Innuendo intended.) Is a quick squeeze of an arse on a dancefloor the limits of their non-consensual sexual activity, or is it just the tip of the iceberg? Not all men do this, and presumably some women do – but why? What’s it all about?
I admit, I’ve been known to grab the occasional nice bum while at the club. In a drunken moment, it seems like a good way to get attention. Once while standing in line for drinks I groped the handsome man standing just ahead of my friend and I. He turned, seeing my friend directly behind him smiled at her. She, not seeing what I had done, smiled back. I simply assumed a certain amount of touch is acceptable within the boundries of a club. Like making out on the dance floor. Its not the grocery store. If an advance is unwanted, no harm, no foul. Is there not an accepted invasion of personal space in a place where grinding is the norm?
It’s been quite a while since I was out clubbing, but there is one thing I will say. Being drunk or otherwise substance impaired is never an excuse for anything. Period.
I vote for the stiletto strategy and hope your aim is better next time.
In my experience most of the gropers don’t stick around long enough to chance you doing anything about them one way or another, which makes it even harder to do anything about them. Like when I was out walking back to the crowded dance floor in a short skirt, and some guy put his hand up my skirt and grabbed my CROTCH. I get really feisty when out – usually in a protective of friends way – and turned around to yell at and slug him. Of course, no one to be found, and no incriminating hands out. It’s a crime of opportunity, like a guy on a train rubbing his erection against you in a crowd then slipping away. Although I still think part of why it’s so easy for these guys to get away with it is other guys won’t report them. I mean, if it’s not “their girl” or “their friend’s girl” or their sister, they don’t feel any investment in doing the right thing. So the assaulter stays anonymous and maybe even covered-up for.
@Tina: I’ve never bought into the idea that just because you’re at a club, that means you’re automatically consenting to/should expect unwanted sexual contact. That’s the same twisted logic that’s used against victims of rape and harassment all the time: “well, you *chose* to be here, so no harm, no foul.”
I also think you should keep your hands to yourself. The idea that all men like to be groped by women is sexist and simply untrue.
Learning about consent and respecting boundaries has to start EARLY. Otherwise we end up in this current climate of unwanted intrusion with no recourse.
The whole topic of street harassment, groping, and consent/personal space stuff calls to mind a great book on the subject:
http://www.amazon.com/Back-Off-Confront-Harassment-Harassers/dp/0671788566/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1293217220&sr=8-1
And a (still active) two-year-old thread over at The F Word where women tell their various stories of harassment:
http://www.thefword.org.uk/blog/2008/05/hands_up_if_you
Not to mention Amanda Hess’ many, MANY posts on groping in Washington, D.C.:
http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/blogs/sexist/tag/groping/
Shit, people, this is a huge problem.
Thank God for projects like Holla Back, or I’d sit here tearing my hair out with helplessness forever.
I haven’t been clubbing in a very long time, but when I used to go, I went to raves. At least, the somewhat-condoned, Anchorage, Alaska version, and I never used any substances–or consumed any drinks.
I didn’t go for the drugs or for sexual contact; I went for the music. Do people not go clubbing for the music, now? I don’t understand how my mere presence at a club suddenly means I’m there for sex. And even if I did go clubbing for the express purpose of getting sex, I still get to choose how, when, and with whom that happens.
Regarding Gauntlet Girl’s thoughts on socialisation, I agree: it’s horrifying that this kind of intentional groping is positioned as acceptable.
I pushed a guy across the dancefloor once after he put his hand up my skirt. It was one of my finer moments, and even the bouncers approved.
@Tina – No, no, no, no and no again. If and only if I am grinding with someone may that specific someone make motions towards my booty and if he is rebuffed I expect him to stay rebuffed. Being in a club with my boyfriend, for example, in no way indicates I have any interest in being pawed by strangers, regardless of gender. Some people actually do go to clubs to dance and to dance with specific people, not the general population! I agree with Becky: keep your hands to yourself.
Agree with BeckySharper & Baraqiel. Simply being in a club does not grant anyone – male OR female! – permission to get handsy. Ever. By falling back on the excuse of being under the influence is simply someone passing the buck on their responsibility in the situation. Or, like Becky said, passing the blame.
I will chime in with this… a couple of (male) friends of mine were complaining about how they felt like meat at the gay bar because men would come up to them and touch them all the time. I, on the other hand, was really able to relax and not be hyper aware of every contact made with my person, because it really was accidental contact. It was refreshing to say the least. I felt bad for them but did say, well now you know how a woman feels… Sad, isn’t it?
I’ve never understood why men do this. Aside from the fact it’s wrong and a terrible invasion of privacy, what exactly are they hoping to achieve?
Has anyone ever groped a stranger and found that the gropee (sure, it’s a word, right?) turns round and says, “Wow, thanks. I was only partially attracted to you before but I will now DEFINITELY have sex with you. What a classy move.”?
This is part of the reason why I never go to clubs (the other is gagging clouds of tobacco smoke). Which sucks, because I love dancing, but hands seem to be magnetically attracted to my ass! I understand, I’m quite proud of it, but NO. It’s exhausting and nerve-wracking trying to constantly defend yourself when you’re out to have a good time.
Also, there is apparently something about a woman under 5′ that brings out the inner caveman. The number of men that have tried to sling me over their shoulders at parties…not cool. >_< Needless to say, if they ignore the yelling and kicking and get me up there, I get my revenge in the form of atomic wedgies. XD
Woah, ok, message received.