I’m a Black woman, and I hate the familiarity some Black men who are strangers use toward me.
I had just gotten off the bus to go to work this morning, feeling drowsy and out of it. I see this delivery guy wheeling cartons of liquor into one of the restaurants, and he leans in close to me and says “Ay, girl!” as if we were long-time buddies or something. I am tired and am not in the mood to entertain men I don’t know, so I don’t respond. I stare straight ahead and continue on my destination.
“You can’t speak?” he says. “You too good to speak?” I still don’t bother to respond, and I don’t bother to look back his way either when he continues to attempt to elicit my attention.
He hadn’t bothered to talk to any of the other women of different races who walked by—he only targeted me. I hate how harassers think that being the same race gives them an automatic “in” to bother me. I am not your “sista”—you are a STRANGER to me. I’m just a woman who wants to be left alone.
– “Anonymous Black Woman”
Location: M Street between Wisconsin and 31st, Washington, DC