Quotessence
Home / Topics / Harassment Quotes

Harassment Quotes

Browse 232 quotes about Harassment.

Related topics

Harassment Quotes

“And Posho was saying the kind of thing he thought he was supposed to say too. Loads of them say that stuff about girls, the ones that are most threatened by girls do. Some of the boys and men think it makes them more superior to say that stuff. They hate to think something outside them can see them and maybe judge them. It's not just men or boys, a lot of people are threatened by knowing that people who they think aren't anything like them exist.”

“When a storm of harassment disturbs our thinking and brings us down to our knees, the umbrella of our imagination can shield us against destructive aggression. It is offering shelter and is teaching us how to conquer ourselves, train our resilience, and grit our teeth. We better learn to adopt the virtue of endurance, as life consists of both ‘passion’ and ‘patience.’ ("The umbrella")”

“She got off the train, thinking that she never felt really human until she reached Harlem and thus got away from the hostility in the eyes of the white women who stared at her on the downtown streets and in the subway. Escaped from the openly appraising looks of the white men whose eyes seemed to go through her clothing to her long brown legs. On the trains their eyes came at her furtively from behind newspapers, or half-concealed under hatbrims or partly shielded by their hands. And there was a warm, moist look about their eyes that made her want to run. These other folks feel the same way, she thought—that once they are freed from the contempt in the eyes of the downtown world, they instantly become individuals. Up here they are no longer creatures labeled simply 'colored' and therefore all alike. She noticed that once the crowd walked the length of the platform and started up the stairs toward the street, it expanded in size. The same people who had made themselves small on the train, even on the platform, suddenly grew so large they could hardly get up the stairs to the street together. She reached the street at the very end of the crowd and stood watching them as they scattered in all directions, laughing and talking to each other.”

“If I had been armed with a feminist understanding that no girl deserves to be called a slut, perhaps I would have fought back by reporting the harassment to my school's headmistress or another school authority, or at least I might have had the strength to tell of the name-callers on my own. But at the time, all I knew was that if I avoided eye contact, it was a hell of a lot easier to get through my days.”

“[On hearing that 86% of gay teens have experienced harassment] Eighty-six percent? Eighty-six per-fuckin-cent WERE harassed?! That means fourteen per-fuckin-cent WEREN'T harassed? WHAT?! At MY school a hundred percent of the children - gay, straight, transgendered, bi, sell... or trade - WERE harassed. She's saying that fourteen percent of the gay students were NOT harassed? That seems impossible. At MY school any one of us would have sucked Elton John's COCK at a mandatory school assembly for a fourteen percent chance of NOT being harassed.”

“There's no being out too late in Whileaway, or up too early, or in the wrong part of town, or unescorted. You cannot fall out of the kinship web and become sexual prey for strangers, for there is no prey and there are no strangers -- the web is world-wide. In all of Whileaway there is no one who can keep you from going where you please (though you may risk your life, if that sort of thing appeals to you), no one who will follow you and try to embarrass you by whispering obscenities in your ear, no one who will attempt to rape you, no one who will warn you of the dangers of the street, no one who will stand on street corners, hot-eyed and vicious, jingling loose change in his pants pocket, bitterly bitterly sure that you're a cheap floozy, hot and wild, who likes it, who can't say no, who's making a mint off it, who inspires him with nothing but disgust, and who wants to drive him crazy.”

“I am not your dog that you whistle for; I’m not a stray animal you call over, and I am not, I never have been, nor will I ever be, your “baby”!”

“Meanwhile, nobody said, Haha, dang, isn’t it bad enough that rape and assault and abuse and harassment and boyfriends doing the emotional psychosexual whatever equivalent of sticking their beefy hand into your brain and wearing it like a baseball mitt or a puppet so they can just really move it around and infinity et cetera happens to so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so many of us, and we can’t even talk about it without having to apologize afterward?”

“When you realize that incompetent police officers are harassing you, you need to call 911 and demand that a police supervisor be immediately dispatched to the scene. In the mean time you need to be video recording everything, as police officers are known for their blatant lies and fabrications.”

“All of Her is Holy Site (Boys Be Men, Sonnet) Way to a woman's heart is through her eyes, not between her legs. All of her is holy site, to wander unwelcome even with eyes is sickness. First be her sanctuary, her safe haven, then be the filthiest beast you can be. Slave to her kinks between the sheets, and in society be her shameless shield. Anybody can stay the night, takes backbone to stay the life. Penetration of flesh is animal affair, human miracle is to touch the mind. Boys be Men! Lift your brain above your belt. In monsoon be her brolly, in drought be her rain.”

“There are abusive individuals whose worst little demons are greed, sloth,envy, gluttony, pride and wrath enslaved by their god which is money. They usually set their false assumptions, wrong judgments, gossips and lies forceful than the ones who hold the truth but what they missed out is that the victims of their aggressions, the targets of their wrong accusations and the recipients of their repetitive harassments carry what is truly essential and what lives longer, that is: truth and goodness, both of which shall always prevail against their vicious, evil manners.”

“Each of us lives by setting traps for the other. The one and the other live in an endless affinity, an affinity which endures until prostration decides the issue. Everyone wants their other. Everyone has an imperious need to put the other at their mercy, along with a heady urge to make the other last as long as possible so as to savour him. The opposing logics of the lie and the truth unite in a dance of death which is nothing but pure delight at the other's demise. For desire for the other is always also the desire to put an end to the other (albeit, perhaps, at the latest possible moment?). The only question is which one will hold out the longest, occupying the space, the speech, the silence, the very inner world of the other - who is dispossessed of himself at the very moment when he becomes one in his difference. Not that one kills the other: the adversary is simply harassed into desiring, into willingly acceding to his own symbolic death ... The world is a perfectly functioning trap. An otherness, a foreignness, that is ultimately unintelligible - such is the secret of the form, and the singularity, of the emergence of the other.”

“So I’m guessing,” he went on, pointing with his fork, “that you’re in a pretty good position to answer the question of where to draw the line between seduction and sexual harassment. Is it how you say things, or what you say?” She pondered with a quiet hum for a few seconds before explaining: “Some think it has to do with the artistry of delivery, but in fact you can have an eloquent harasser and a clumsy flirt. The difference is the message. Both begin with the same basic premise: ‘I desire you.’ Where they diverge is in what follows that premise. The harasser says: ‘I desire you, and I’m going to keep at you until you give in.’ But the seducer’s message puts the power into the hands of the person being desired, with the message being: ‘I desire you, and if the feeling is mutual, come and get it.’ The harasser demands, the seducer invites. That’s the difference.”

“Kuch dhundhla sa yaad hai; kuch dhundhla sa he dekhti hun; woh sehmi si andheri raat, woh aik ajeeb si khamoshi aur phankay ki ahista se chalne wali bechain awaaz. Khirki per nazar pri to yun lga jese chand or sitaron ki lapait mein mehfooz hun mein; lekin achanak woh jo aik dastak hui aur dill ki dharakne ki raftar kuch tez maloom hui balkay khassi tez maloom hui ese jese kisi ne mun per hath rakh dya hou; tharthrahat aur ghabrahat k sath awaz halak se nikal rhi hai lekin koi sunne wala nahi ya awaz he nahi thi. woh khamosh si aah-o-pukaar, woh nazron ka gir jana, aur honton ka khushk hojana; woh jo yun mehsoos hua k shayad kisi ki mojoodgi ka najaiz ehsas hua, kisi ka hona na gawaar kya, na zeb lga; khassa haya ka daman chaar hou rha tha, kaheen badboo si mehsoos hui; shayad woh qatal-e-khass ho rha tha, khuda dekh raha tha; uski woh garam sansain aur meri khamosh siskyan; laal joray per kali siyaahi ka rung charh raha tha, woh jora mehaz aik hawa ka jhonka sa mehsoos hua jo tez andhi ki nazar hogya; woh kaheen mehfil-e-khass loot raha tha, mein usi mehfil mein khud ko zinda dargor ker rhi thi; aur kaheen chambeli ka phool murjha gya, baghbaan kahan tha? Koi to dastak thi jiske hone per yun lga, woh jo me mehfooz thi apne he ghar mein woh mehaz aik khayal tha; aik veham-o-ghuman tha; jo kaheen us raat k andhere mein dher hogya.”

“When a stranger on the street makes a sexual comment, he is making a private assessment of me public. And though I’ve never been seriously worried that I would be attacked, it does make me feel unguarded, unprotected. Regardless of his motive, the stranger on the street makes an assumption based on my physique: He presumes I might be receptive to his unpoetic, unsolicited comments. (Would he allow a friend to say “Nice tits” to his mother? His sister? His daughter?) And although I should know better, I, too, equate my body with my soul and the result, at least sometimes, is a deep shame of both. Rape is a thousand times worse: The ultimate theft of self-control, it often leads to a breakdown in the victim’s sense of self-worth. Girls who are molested, for instance, often go on to engage in risky behavior—having intercourse at an early age, not using contraception, smoking, drinking, and doing drugs. This behavior, it seems to me, is at least in part because their self-perception as autonomous, worthy human beings in control of their environment has been taken from them.”

“Freedom of Dress (The Sonnet) Freedom of dress is as important, As freedom of press, that's common sense. If we're still stuck with squabbles on clothes, When will we manifest character's radiance! What does it matter, what we wear, As long as we walk with our head held high! Anything that strengthens our backbone, Is worth the fight of a thousand lifetime. Clothes perish, so does the body in them, But a well-built character keeps on shining. Focus on conduct across all shallow exterior, Let burning dogs burn, you just keep dazzling. I repeat, heed not the honks of primeval puritans. Own your booty and trample all condemnation.”

“Sonnet of Short Dress There is no short dress, only short sight, No obscene outfit, only eyes of obscenity. The world is no man's family heirloom, That it should be cherished by the men only. Instead of restricting a girl's right to expression, Teach boys, short dress isn't a sign of consent. If women cannot walk around freely as men do, Better sentence all men to lifetime imprisonment. Let all girls hear it loud, wear what you like to wear, Walk around naked if that's what you really want. And when an animal makes unwanted advances, Activate your knee 'n crush their beloved balls to pulp. Girls don't need protecting, they ain't fragile showpiece. Let's just raise boys as decent humans, not entitled bullies.”

“Arguably insane utility workers that blatantly harass law abiding customers is likely to become more frequent as the long term effects of biologically toxic radio frequency (RF) radiation exposures from their transmitting smart meters continues to emerge.”

“Treating Abuse Today 3(4) pp. 26-33 TAT: No. I don't know anymore than you know they're not. But, I'm talking about boundaries and privacy here. As a therapist working with survivors, I have been harassed by people who claim to be affiliated with the false memory movement. Parents and other family members have called or written me insisting on talking with me about my patients' cases, despite my clearly indicating I can't because of professional confidentiality. I have had other parents and family members investigate me -- look into my professional background -- hoping to find something to discredit me to the patients I was seeing at the time because they disputed their memories. This isn't the kind of sober, scientific discourse you all claim you want.”

“Because I questioned myself and my sanity and what I was doing wrong in this situation. Because of course I feared that I might be overreacting, overemotional, oversensitive, weak, playing victim, crying wolf, blowing things out of proportion, making things up. Because generations of women have heard that they're irrational, melodramatic, neurotic, hysterical, hormonal, psycho, fragile, and bossy. Because girls are coached out of he womb to be non-confrontational, agreeable, solicitous, deferential, demure, nurturing, to be tuned in to others, and to shrink and shut up.”