< Translator’s note: The original formatting of the stories has been preserved. The translations aim to remain as close as possible to each author's original wording and expression.

 

I was 17 years old, and I was walking to university. I needed to walk about a kilometer after getting off the bus at the stop. It was around 7:30 in the morning, I was tired, and the streets were quite empty.

​

I was walking along the sidewalk when a taxi stopped about three meters away from me. Some older man (around 60 years old) got out of it. He said to me, “Girl, are you in a hurry? Maybe I can give you a ride?” I replied: “No, no need, thank you. I’m not in a hurry anywhere.” I remember that I froze at that moment and tried to say these words to him as politely as possible so that he wouldn’t come any closer to me. I had already turned and was about to keep walking toward the university. At that moment, he shouted after me, “Girl…! You are so sexy!”

​

I don’t remember whether I tried to answer him with a quick, frightened “goodbye” and then run away, or whether I just froze for a second and then quickly walked toward the university. But I do remember how disgusting his look and his smile were to me at that moment. They seemed animal-like and dangerous. I was very scared then.

​

I think the reason he got back into the car and drove away after that was that a few meters away from me, other people had already started to appear, walking about their business. I don’t know how okay it is to write about what I was wearing at that moment, but I remember it well. I was wearing a stretched-out black jacket and matching sweatpants; I had a bandana on my head, and only glitter was on my face.

​

Harassment is not about what the victim is wearing, but about the perpetrator’s horrific act. But I still cannot calmly wear glitter on my face, and I refuse to take taxis.

​

Viktoriia; story shared in 2022 as part of the campaign “16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence.”