Yesterday, a friend's facebook status alerted me that March 20th was the
first International Anti-street Harassment day. I found out too late to do anything about it just then, but today I have three street harassment stories to share.
I do this with some trepidation because:
1. I have to walk the line of calling out harassment while plainly stating that this problem isn't a Lebanese thing--it's an international, human, thing.
2. For me, there's always going to be the tension of being a foreigner here and knowing that I have an outsider's view and an outsider's experience. I know this impacts how I'm treated and how people respond to me, so just take that for what it is.
3. My blog isn't usually this personal or this wordy. Sheesh.
March 20th was all about sexual harassment, but I've chosen three stories that highlight a variety harassing situations that happened to me or that I saw happen to someone else. I've included a collage of pictures that I took near the places where these things happened. Since photography is what I do, I already had photos of these places.
Top Left
It was 11:30, nearly mid-day. I was on my way to pick up my daughter from school. There was a jittery looking fellow ahead of me, pacing. He was probably in his early 20s, a tight-jeans, greased-hair kind of guy. As I walked past him, he slapped my butt. Without even thinking about it I wheeled around and screamed at him. He was a little more than arm’s reach away when I yelled, and it startled him. It startled the drivers on the road and traffic halted. Since I’d acted without thinking and now found myself confronting this guy I decided to do the thing properly. I began shouting again. I had about two syllables out when he took off running to get away from me.
I continued on my way, feeling extremely angry. One of the cars in the road, part of the traffic I stopped with my outburst, pulled over ahead of me. A very clean-cut guy got out, a polo shirt and trainers kind of guy. He asked if I was ok, said that the guy who slapped me isn’t educated and that not all Lebanese are like this. I think I understand why he stopped, what he assumed I was thinking, why he felt compelled to get out of his car to tell me all this. He had no way of knowing that I’ve lived here for the better part of five years, that I KNOW that not all Lebanese are like that.
Top Right
I was walking with my children. A whole group of those guys who sell flowers on the street were seated together ahead of us. Maybe they were taking a break. As we passed them one of them got up and began following us, right next to me, trying to get me to buy a flower. I said no. This had no impact on him. I said it again, but he continued. It’ll matter to some who read this for me to include here that when I say no I do the chin-lifting eyebrow-raising gesture that is the Lebanese equivalent of shaking your head. It’s a clear, international no. After doing this twice I stopped, made eye contact, and yelled no. He backed off right away, but I could tell he thought I’d wildly over-reacted. I spent the rest of my walk worried about this situation. It was a bad feeling.
Bottom
I was walking to my kids’ school along a wide and busy street, lost in my own thoughts. Ahead of me on the other side of the road, I heard laughing, and then a scuffle broke out. Two middle-aged guys were laughing as a third, their buddy I’m sure, knocked a shoe-shine kid’s kit out of his hands—these kits include all their stuff (creams, rags, brushes, etc.) to do their job. I’ve called the shoe-shine a kid because his build was slight, his face looked really young—maybe 16. The guy shoving him toward traffic must have outweighed him by at least 40 lbs. Every bit of that circumstance made me angry. The older guy was clearly middle class and he was surrounded by friends. He was pushing around a younger smaller person who was alone, pushing him toward traffic, messing with the only tools the kid had to make a living. So, from the other side of the street I yelled at him to stop it. He either couldn’t hear me because of traffic or didn’t care that I was shouting, but other people heard me and they began to intervene. I stood there until more people were involved, until I could see that whatever was happening between them would be solved without the kind of bullying that made me shout in the first place.
So much for my three stories. In the end, all I can say is that circumstances like these are always on my mind a little when I'm out on the street. Someday I'll yell at someone who isn't a coward, or I'll yell and none of the passers-by will care. I'm really thankful for the people who helped in circumstances where I've felt threatened or I've seen someone else threatened.
If you'd like, leave a comment about your own street harassment experiences, what you've done about it, how you respond, or what you think of what I've shared.
In this city, people drive and they do it however they choose: up on curbs, off the shoulder, out into oncoming traffic, going the wrong way down one-way streets. Put an obstacle in their way and they'll just scoot over, under, around, or through, just like molecules of water in a great river flowing on to the wide sea. 
And the route should include the reclaimed land to the north of Downtown. There's plenty of open space out there for pit crews.
The balloon letters spell out ‘EID MOBARAK’—or happy holidays. It's Eid Adha, after all. Creative use of the upside down U to be the second A. 
The kids are out of school until Thursday and we so far, we're having a lovely holiday.
We passed this little street. It was so ornate that I had to stop for a few photos.
Haj decorations to comemmorate a resident's completed pilgrimage. That, and a picture waiting to happen. I was delighted by the colors and light.
I'll be here to show you streets like this one that caught my eye. I love this because blonde is more fun. I love the mix of signs and I love the streetlight that's on for no reason and yes, those are tiles on that building. 
But in the early evening it's calm there, quiet too. And it's beautiful.
I hope you all have a nice weekend!
The yellow building was renovated recently. I love it when old buildings are rehabilitated. I feel like I've stepped into a time machine when I look at them.
From my corner of town, the city seems quieter than usual today. Maybe that's why this picture from my archives felt right today. It was about a year ago that I stopped at the edge of the highway that leads northward out of town and took this photo. It's just a street, but the quietness about it contrasted with the roaring highway where I stood and the contrast was a bit mesmerizing and I couldn't help taking a picture.
It's become a piece of home.
At the time, I didn't notice the little graffiti bomb with a heart on it (on the right in the middle). Now that I've seen it, I like the photo for that that little oddity too.
And come to that, I don't have a death wish either and I really love my kids too. Neither stopped me taking this picture through the windshield while driving.
I took this photo while I drove on a road that skirts the edge of what I suppose is a slum in Achrafieh. Change is its destiny, but no one knows how it will change, when, or what it will become.
These trucks belong to UN Peacekeepers (UNIFIL) in the south. The trucks in my photo are here in Beirut because those folks need some R&R now and then, so they come to town. I walked past these trucks parked outside a West-Beirut hotel. 
See? Just the other day, I walked past this film crew setting up a ton of lights all around Salon Safar on Bliss street. It's a humble little place. Like most other little barber shops in Beirut it seems it hasn't changed a bit in the past four or five decades. Don't know how it's possible, but these little nooks seem to have resisted the tide of change better than anywhere else. 
Final Cut Equipped. Call them if you ever need to make a movie on the streets of Beirut.
In the fall of 2009, the Lebanese government began confiscating and destroying scooters. They imposed a 6pm curfew and began enforcing existing requirements for license, registration, helmets, etc. Anyway, it had been a long time since we'd seen a truck like this one. If you want to read an article about the scooter regulations, here you go.
It's a goldmine, right? Brilliant! Hardwood doors, looks like craftsman era, not in the best shape but definitely a DIY dream come true! I even have a car that's good for hauling stuff like this, and I could so totally drive right over and load it up and take it back to my place and do something amazing with it!
