It took a long time to get there (after all, commuting from New Jersey makes anything in New York ten times harder) but I arrived, in sandals and my favorite dress. The Hollaback! launch in Brooklyn on Thursday, July 8 was an intense celebration, with over 100 hearts gathered for the same cause. There was a raffle, iPhone covers for sale- and I was doing my best to push them, thank you very much- and even booze.

Street harassment is described by Hollaback! as “one of the most pervasive forms of violence against women,” and not many people would argue: as the ladies of THE LINE joined me in what we dubbed a “VIP Lounge,” we were able to laugh about a worry we all had getting to Southpaw: would we be harassed on the way? But street harassment isn’t funny, or light. As Emily May said in her speech, those who are street harassed have few options: walk on and feel victimized, or speak up and risk the escalation of violence from verbal to physical. For many people- of all genders and backgrounds- street harassment is a real and worrisome element of our public lives. And, as Hollaback! correctly pinpoints: “if street harassment is okay, then violence against women is okay. And that simply isn’t okay.”

The connection between street harassment and violence against women is obvious: both are tools used to constrict women’s public space and make them feel lesser and endangered in the public sphere, both occur without consent and imply control, danger, and risk of harm, and both are performances of hegemonic gender paradigms that force women to be objectified, judged by their physicality, and publicly shamed out of control of their own environments.

It is very much so worth promoting the action of Hollaback! not only for street harassment, but for violence everywhere. Do not stand by. Do not stay quiet. Do not walk on. Take action and make everyone- including yourself and your loved ones- safer, more comfortable, and more empowered. Hollaback! is capitalizing on one of the most powerful forces, I believe, in history: voices. By collecting stories and showing our might in numbers, in data, in maps, and in attitude, Hollaback! is going to win the fight against street harassment the same way THE LINE aims to fundamentally change the way people think about sex.

Stand up for what you believe in, but most important, always stand up for yourself.

I had to watch it like three times before I completely understood the accent, but unfortunately the scenario itself is not so foreign. A sexy woman is enjoying herself at a party – drinking some wine, laughing, being fabulous, maybe flirting a little – and a male bystander (presumably a stranger) seizes the opportunity to interject that her skirt indicates that “she’s asking for it.” The viewer is left to make an obvious observation:

Um, asking for what, dude? Asking for another drink? A stick of gum? Directions to the Scottish Parliament?

The short PSA illustrates the absurdity of the “asking for it” rape myth while placing due gravity on its pervasiveness. Yeah, the guy’s an idiot, but he’s also engaging in a pattern of violence, and the real problem is that our culture condones and encourages his violent behavior.

The “asking for it” myth is so deeply ingrained in our rape culture that it’s become second nature to most of us. Sexual violence is treated as an inevitable consequence of certain behaviors, and, when you think about it, that’s a pretty effective way of maintaining social control over women and other disenfranchised groups. We’re frequently asked to surrender our rights to even the most basic of human freedoms in order to avoid being victimized. Don’t live in that part of the city, you’ll get raped. Never walk alone at night, you’ll get raped. Don’t talk to strangers, wear revealing clothing, leave your doors or windows unlocked, take drugs, drink in excess, take public transportation, travel alone, or sleep around – because you will get raped. The list of don’ts goes on and on, each rule wildly impractical, blatantly inconsistent with actual statistics related to sexual assault, and specifically crafted to distract us from the culpability of rapists. Why do we have entire dossiers on How to Not Get Raped and no guidelines for How to Not Rape People? We need a cultural revolution.

I can just imagine the headlines:

Police warn rapists against crime.

Campus leaders urge students to engage in consensual sex.

Why is that message so absent from discussions of sexual assault? Why focus so much time and energy on training women to avoid danger while men walk around with carte fucking blanche? In thousands of ways, our culture has conditioned us to anticipate rape as a natural consequence of violating social norms. Rape myths serve to keep women out of the public sphere, and rape culture wants you to believe that the only safe place for a woman is her kitchen.

You have the right to live your life however you like without being subjected to violence. You have the right to live without fear. And no one has the right to violate you. Ever.

Being the quintessential Gemini that I am, I have been at odds with a lot of what is happening right now in my life while trying to figure out what my line really is. I’ve been involved with THE LINE Campaign since January of this year, starting the new year fresh with fem-fucking-power, and it has taken up a permanent spot in my heart, mind and soul. Not only does it re-awaken my feminist spirit every single day, but I have become part of the bigger movement and that has given me the courage to speak out.

A good friend of mine recently told me that I should watch what I say. Although I do admit that I don’t (always) think before I leap, I just can’t keep my mouth shut when I don’t agree with something(or somebody). He told me this after I posted a public note on the door of his building shouting out the sexist, violent asshole on the sixth floor that catcalls womyn from the stoop and thinks that hog-tying his beautiful german shepherd is “funny”. I felt that he needs to be publicly embarrassed and all the womyn living in the same building as him need to be aware of this creep. An hour later, another note appeared in the same place as the prior one stating “I know it was you, you bitch, you fucking cunt.” Obviously he couldn’t think of anything to say except to respond with vulgarities.

I don’t think that I say enough sometimes.

But back to what I was saying..

I’ve been in the city for over a week now, after traveling around New Orleans, then to Detroit for the US Social Forum. I’ve had some time now to organize and sift through my thoughts and feelings, however I am all-over-the-place and can’t seem to do much gathering. I’ve been thinking about where I stand in love and relationships frequently recently because I am seeing someone exclusively, but I’ve realized that I never reach satisfaction in any relationship because I always feel like there is something missing. For the last three years, I’ve succumbed to the fusion of another human being’s life with my own and haven’t had any time on my own.

Shit, I want to be selfish right now. I want to not worry about anyone else’s need besides my own. Fuck male domination, fuck societal paternal pressure of fucking your partner out of pity and fuck men colonizing womyn of color into relationships to obtain control over our lives. I see/hear/feel it with myself and whomever I talk to. Despite whatever madness (or realty) I may afflict, I haven’t felt this rounded and comfortable with myself– ever.

I steal the title of this post from the COLORR (Colorado Organization for Latina Opportunity and Reproductive Rights) girls who I met at USSF at their sexual health ‘zine-makin’ workshop. We ended the workshop in a circle holding-hands reciting Assata Shakur “to my people”, then placing our hands over our hearts and pussies (or cocks) while saying “me quiero, me cuido”. Translation: I love myself, then I’ll take care of myself.

THE LINE has had a successful year. The film- and Nancy- have touched countless lives and minds, started tremendous heartfelt discussions on campuses worldwide, and impacted communities near and far with a sex-positive and genuine message about sex, communication, and consent.

For those of you who brought this dynamic and thought-provoking program to campus: thank you. For those of you who attended and took part in this movement: thank you. For those of you who write, submit, support, and promote us in your own work and your personal lives: thank you.

And for those of you who want to keep in touch… we’re now offering a newsletter! Keep updated about upcoming and past screenings, updates on relevant topics and items of interest, and opportunities to transform your communities! If you’d like to subscribe to the newsletter, please click here and sign up.

Hey everyone! My name is Ashley Lebesco, and I’m one of the newest bloggers here!

I’m a Women’s Studies/History major at Temple University, and I’ve been a feminist since the doctor said “girl.” I’m known as the crazy liberal hippie feminist to my more conservative family members, and when I’m not fighting sexual bias and injustice, I spend time with my dog and pretty awesome boyfriend Kevin.

(That being said, I am also a die hard fan of action movies and wrestling,  and therefore living proof that feminists sometimes have conflicting hobbies.)

I can most commonly be heard saying, “That is so sexist,” and one day I’ll be a lawyer- so I can kick sexism in the butt, one case at a time.

Hello everyone!  My name is Madeleine and I’m really excited to be a new blogger here! Right now I’m living in Charlottesville, Virginia with my girlfriend, Lauren, and our cat, Dorothy.  I’m taking some time off from being a student at the University of Virginia to figure out what I’m doing with my life.

As a middle child and the daughter of a midwife, I knew how babies were made from a very young age.  When I was just shy of three, I asked my very pregnant mom why she hadn’t had a period in a while, and she explained pretty much all there was to know about baby-making.  At eight, I was humiliated when she brought in a plaster pelvis and a baby doll to teach my girl scout troupe about midwifery on career day.

As a lesbian (and a bit of a late bloomer), though, I didn’t think about sex as anything beyond a straight-forward act of procreation until my line was crossed.  My first year of college, I was raped and beaten by a stranger at a party.  I wish I could say I had a “click” moment after that and became the radical feminist I consider myself today.  It wasn’t until about a year and a half later, though, that I was able to take that experience and channel the anger I felt into something positive.

This past year, I co-founded a co-ed queer fraternity at my university, began speaking on panels to educate the public about LGBTQ issues, and started devouring feminist blogs and literature.  I strive to dispel myths about lesbians, rape survivors, and feminists.  I may not be able to change the world, but I’m dead-set on changing at least a few minds.

I don’t remember the first time I was catcalled- or the last. I have actually become so accustomed to street harassment that I don’t bat eyelashes at it anymore; I walk on, I attempt to be fearless. When I was 18 and had started school, it terrified me to be out alone and encounter a talkative stranger. To this day, I walk a little faster around men who whistle and men who yell. When I was 18 and had started an internship, an older man on the metro asked me to live with him, and then backed off and remarked that he would leave me alone “because I looked like a nice girl.” (This was a feminist awakening, and I wish he knew that he spurred what became my feminist career.) When I was 18 and had just ventured DC alone, a much older man asked me where I lived, and if he could fly me back to New York with him.

Street harassment is a daily exercise in the life of a woman. It happens to women regardless of their lifestyle, appearance, behavior, location, status, ethnicity, or life experience. Street harassment happens to women when they are alone, traveling with others, and even (in one of my cases) when they are walking with their colleagues or supervisors. Street harassment is a pervasive form of verbal and physical violence against women. For many women, the problem is too pervasive and stubborn and appears impossible to solve. Many have given up in the face of comments like “why did you wear that?” or “why were you in that neighborhood?” For many women, street harassment has become an annoying, embarassing, and secret activity. For many women, it is a form of verbal and physical violence that goes ignored by them and their friends and loved ones.

For those women, there is Hollaback!, an organized movement against street harassment. Founded by Emily May in New York City, I began to consult the project on social media when they had already chaptered Hollabacks in other countries and continents, as well as across the nation in a host of cities. On July 8, Hollaback! will be celebrating its launch in Brooklyn, New York – the beginning of their second stage will be ushered in by a series of applications (for the iPhone, Android, and more) and a new focus on exposing street harassers, mapping where harassment happens, and then attempting to legislate against it.

I was probably no more than 13 when I began to struggle with street harassment. It is a behavior that confounds me, and frustrates me. The Sexist at Washington City Paper has published stories about violent street harassers who strike. (Similarly, she also reported on Miss DC’s recent badass attack on her harassers.) For women in the United States and around the world, freedom of movement is still a fantasy, hindered by misogyny that is manifested in catcalls, wolf whistles, and other forms of dangerous and dehumanizing behavior.

This spring, I was asked to lead my school’s Take Back the Night march against sexual assault, rape, and other forms of violence against women. I marched defiantly and proudly, finally free from the constraints of acceptable behavior and finally free from the overwhelming inability to fight back that so many women encounter in situations of street harassment. From the past week, I can recount around five examples of street harassment directed at me, all while I was walking to and from work, networking receptions, and concerts- and I’m done.

This July 8, I am giving street harassers exactly what- and all that- they deserve: a big fuck you.

Hollaback PSA! from Emily May on Vimeo.

As the new editor of this blog, I want to say a big THANK YOU to everyone who responded with such fire to our call to action. We’re stronger now, and here comes the tidal wave: we’re going to be introducing all of our new bloggers and exploring the power of our voices throughout this week.

We asked YOU, in all corners of the USA- and beyond- the same question: where is your line?

And you told us:

It’s common-fucking-sense.

When I saw the NYTimes Europe piece called “Feminism of the Future Relies on Men,” I was a little bit confounded. The piece was written concisely and surely, with no hesitation, and started by describing “women closing ranks to battle blatant sexism, get an education and go to work” as the feminism of the past. After all, wasn’t that just women acting like men? Well, it sure was. The next step, after all, as the author promised, was “pulling men into [the] women’s universe — as involved dads, equal partners at home and ambassadors for gender equality from the cabinet office to the boardroom.”

The problem here isn’t the first or second goal included for the feminists of today; we’ve been working hard to ensure men play an equal role at home. But relegating men to being “ambassadors of gender equality” is tricky when it plays out like this:

Basically, guys are the more effective feminists because other guys are more likely to listen to them.

This was the point where I had to pause for a minute to observe her logic. Pulling men into women’s worlds shouldn’t have to mean forcing them to care about our problems for us (the idea of handing off the battle for equality is a little scary and seems quite careless), it should mean achieving social equality that doesn’t discourage them from caring about these problems with us. Men can be great allies in the women’s movement, and much has been written about their inclusion in the feminist movement. But none of those writings would go as far as to discredit the impact of women in the movement, or to discourage them from going on the front-lines themselves. None of those writings think of men as ambassadors to equality, but rather think of them as partners in a movement.

Men being uninterested in the issues that affect women and their inequality is not a problem best solved by waiting for exceptional male leaders to give us tastes of what we rightfully deserve; it isn’t a problem best solved by begging men to handle our anger, our stories, and our futures for us and sitting back to wait for the day our salvation comes.

It’s also not a problem best solved with insufficient and incomplete logic that disregards our lopsided opportunity to achieve our goals through institutions like government:

It took a male prime minister to sell the legislation to the country, and it took male leaders in Sweden and Norway to pass similar laws. It was a man who championed Norway’s boardroom quota obliging companies to fill at least 40 percent of the seats with women.

Would a female Spanish prime minister have been able to appoint a cabinet that is 50 percent female in 2004?

Would a female Spanish prime minister have been elected in 2004? The chance is underwhelming.

The biggest problem with this approach is the damage it could do: telling women to let someone else worry about their equality, relegating them back to playing a passive, gracious role instead of pushing them into the battlefield and letting them fight like hell, and accepting our current reality as silenced, ignored members of a world population as okay and worth working inside of is only going to slow this movement, and any movement experiencing these same characteristics, farther back.

So to the women of Europe and the world: I know that it’s frustrating to be disrespected by institutions, persons, and cultures; I know that it is hard to work for equality when your voice doesn’t matter in the boardroom or the bedroom; I understand that we’re all happy for the progress we achieve through whatever means possible that makes it more likely we will soon be given the trust, power, and opportunity over half of the world’s population deserves; and I know that it feels like feminism may be too old, too tired, too vintage to take care of it anymore. However, keep fighting, keep yelling, and keep raising your voices.

Women of Europe and the world: don’t ever put your personhood in someone else’s hands.

I want to start this piece by introducing myself. My name is Carmen and I’m a little bit of everything: a bold woman of color entering her third year of college at the sometimes-awesome sometimes-frustrating usually-radical Washington, DC campus known as American University. I’m an activist involved with NOW and multiple student organizations, an advocate who is professionally tied to a plethora of women’s groups, and a free spirit who loves to indulge in v-necks, frozen yogurt, and anything unusual. I have an afro and I’m addicted to the internet, and on the weekends you can find me giggling in my living room.

I’m also the newest editor here at Where Is Your Line?, a blog close to my own heart: I was with Nancy as an intern just last year when she created this website, this program, and this movement. She’s one of my biggest inspirations, and I was unable to leave the project behind in any capacity- I’m still here, across state lines, reading entries and emails and begging her for any tasks possible to tackle online.

My goals for this project are yours, too. I want our message to become everyone’s conversation, our project vision achieved in bedrooms across the country. Imagine it: a world of discussion and freedom instead of shame and silence. We can do it, and projects and movements like this one are an integral piece.

So I wrote scathing reviews of journalism and personal pieces on my own turbulent times with hookup culture, interviewed my biggest she-ro (aside from Hillary Clinton, of course), and then used the experience I had gotten by starting a smaller-focus campaign specific to my campus in an effort to stop rape culture at its roots in dorm rooms all over AU. I know the power of the individual is small, and I know that collective voices have the strongest and most beautiful resonance. I know that openness, affirmation, conversation, and diversity are important, and I want to incorporate every voice, background, lifestyle, experience, opinion, and being into the movement to end violence in relationships, families, and our own lives.

And that’s where you come in.

This is an open call for voices. I am looking for anyone interested in submitting pieces for this campaign as a credited blogger, and there are no requirements- unless you consider it unfair to expect passion, heart, and effort in everything you do. You’ll be an invaluable piece of this movement and the challenge to end violence everywhere.

You can contact me at thelinemovie [at] gmail [dot] com. I’m looking forward to hearing from you- believe me, I’m always excited to talk. Just add “ATTN Carmen Rios” into the subject line to make sure it gets to me.

Your voice can end violence. Your voice can change everything.