butzefrau:

cocksmasher69:

reylaser:

thlayli-rah:

hmsindecision:

Shoutout to every woman who has ever seen a stranger crying and stopped to help her. To women who pretend they know someone at a bar to get her away from a creep. To women who stay with a stranger who is scared and too drunk in the bathroom. To women who have put their body between a girl and someone out to harm her. To women who get a friend home after she has been roofied. To women who have been in a fistfight when a man won’t keep his hands to himself. To women who are scared but send in their friend, the bartender, the bouncer. To the fact that each of those is a woman I know, most of them several women.

My friends and I saw a man chasing a woman and screaming at her. My friend who was driving pulled over hard and we threw open the door and said, “get in!” And she looked at a group of women and threw herself in, on our laps, crying and cold. We said we would take her home. She said he was telling her how he’d rape her since he bought her a drink at the bar.

If I hear one more time that getting free drinks is a privilege I will fucking scream.

It’s time for me to tell you a story. A story I didn’t really want to tell but I’m going to tell anyway. My friends and I frequently go to this pub, a divey little place nearby our work, to have dinner and a drink. So this one time I went with my group, and while we were sitting at the table, I got sent a drink.

I’m eighteen. Not old enough to (legally) drink. To be fair, I don’t look eighteen, especially when I come from work, but anyway. I got sent this drink from this guy who was sitting at a bar. It was pretty obvious that he was about thirty or so, and when I looked up at him he waved. I felt slightly disconcerted, but reasoned that he probably didn’t realize that I was so young. So I made the mistake of going to the bar.

“Hi there,” I said. “I appreciate the compliment, but I’m actually only eighteen.”
And that was when he grinned and said “Wow I really did luck out”
“I’m sorry, I’m really not interested.”
He gave me that look– you know the one, the one where there’s the flash of anger that suddenly disappears behind a predatory smile. “It’s rude to not accept a gift.”
Unsettled, I went and sat back down. He continued to stare at me for the rest of the evening but thankfully because I was with my friends I figured he wouldn’t bother me.

I went to the bathroom (it’s just a single room, not a group of stalls), and I hear someone knock on the door. I say, “Just a minute.” and then the doorknob jiggles. “Hang on a second,” I say. I finish my business, open the door, and then I get shoved back into the bathroom by the guy from the bar. I didn’t wait, I didn’t hold on, I didn’t pause– I just let loose a full-pelt scream. Almost immediately, the bartender, a young woman about twenty-five, throws open the door and just fucking bodychecks the bar guy, grabs my hand, and hauls me out of the bathroom.

He didn’t get the chance to lay a hand on me, but it’s pretty obvious what he was looking to do. And if it hadn’t been for the fact that the bartender had been keeping an eye on him from the moment he sent me a drink that night, seen him go to the bathroom after I did, and been on high alert– well I’m not sure what would’ve happened. I’d rather not think about it.

Girls protecting girls is the most important thing

oh my god

Gals don’t just spring into action once you’ve heard or seen something. Actively be on the lookout for women who may be in danger. A lot of the times males are silently predatory; if your gut tells you something is off, listen to it. Men don’t give a fuck about us, we have to look out for each other

Regarding the “stop to help a stranger” bit:

Once I was sitting on the train, minding my own business. A lady sat across from me, and I could hear her (not that I was trying to pry) excusing herself to someone on the other line. Talking about how it was _her_ life and such. I don’t remember the whole details, but all I got from the call, in my mind, was “This poor woman is living for someone else, and not getting life in return”.

So after her call ended, I quietly said something to the effect of “I know it’s none of my business, but I couldn’t help overhear, and I wanted to tell you: You don’t owe anyone anything.”

She teared up and thanked me, we hugged, I don’t think I saw her again. I hope she’s happy and living her life instead of someone else’s.

And I hope whoever made her sad steps on a lego.