This is my story.

Hey Hollaback friends,

My name is Liv Hall. I’m eighteen years old, a second year Law, Politics and English student at Vic, debater, Harry Potter fanatic and musical theatre lover. I’m also now lucky enough to be part of this amazing project known as Hollaback. Last night I met with some of the wonderful women who have put together the Wellington branch of this international effort to support those who experience street harassment, and as a result I will now be contributing to the blog and website when possible. But I wanted to start by sharing my own story of street harassment and how I came to discover the Hollaback service.

As a first point of reference, if you look slightly further down on the home page you will see “Olivia’s Story”, which is a post I put in to Hollaback a few months ago after an unpleasant experience on Lambton Quay. While I had previously experienced the far too common ordeal of being yelled at or verbally abused on the streets, I’d never had someone invade my personal space in that physical way before, and if I’m honest, it scared me. I felt less safe walking around at night and I became far more aware of the fact that I was a woman on the streets of Wellington, and what that can mean. It took a bit of thinking about to realize that being made to feel that way is really not okay. The problem is it happens so often and is so under-reported that people come to expect it, assuming that it is just one of those things we are supposed to take and roll with. But let me assure you, it’s not.

Then, over Summer, I was in Auckland and had another unpleasant encounter. I was waiting at a large bus stop for my brother. Slightly further down the bench from me was an older man, and on his other side a boy I took to be about my age. I could feel the older man staring at me and while it made me a bit uncomfortable, I tried to ignore it and focus on the email I was reading. He was harder to ignore when he began speaking. From what I recall, his words were “Oi missy, those are some grade A tits you’ve got there. I’d love to put my head between those.” And then he laughed. I had no idea how to react, essentially shocked into silence. The teenage boy on his other side also laughed, and while I appreciate he may not have known how to intervene or how to respond, that hurt me as much as the man’s comment. I felt like I was being ridiculed for my gender, judged based on my body and objectified in a way that I couldn’t stand. However, unable to think of an appropriate response, I chose instead to simply stand up and leave.

Having been pointed to the Hollaback website, I shared the first of those two stories. I received encouraging comments and I was able to read other people’s stories and comment on those as well. I found a community who agreed that what had happened to me was a form of abuse and were willing to stand by me and support me. I’m often asked what Hollaback provides, and that is exactly it. We are a community, a family of people who, while we may not be brought together in the most pleasant of circumstances, are there to make people feel less alone and show them people and organisations who can provide further guidance when necessary. I would encourage you to share the website with friends and family members, whether it be to share a story or simply read others. For now, that is my story. Thank you for giving me a place to share it.

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