I’m sick of being groped and bouncers not doing anything about it

Until now I’ve kept my head down when it comes to writing about sexism.

Everyone knows Dapper Laughs is about as funny as world poverty, Sheffield United were morally abhorrent letting Ched Evans train, and that women are subject to sexism on a far too regular basis.

Rather than hide behind my keyboard and waste cyber breath fighting the small minority of society who still celebrate misogynistic culture, I’ve always adopted a more proactive attitude.

When I say proactive, I mean if I ever feel remotely marginalised, offended, or violated in a real life situation, the culprit will damn well know about it. Whilst I fully appreciate violence is not the answer, nor do two wrongs make a right, I’ll be the first to admit I’ve thrown many a vodka lime and lemonade in the eyes of boys who’ve groped me in a club, called me a ‘slag’ for rejecting their advances or forcibly tried to get with me. Cuff me, go on.

What’s finally driven me to stick my oar in on the whole sexism topic, is two such incidents recently, and the different attitudes of the people meant to be responsible for your safety.

A fortnight ago in a Sheffield club, I was walking round the edge of the dancefloor with a friend when one boy aggressively slapped my arse. As I turned round all guns blazing ready to confront him, I watched him do the exact same to my friend behind me and cheer. Cheer. Like being a foul, misogynistic prick is something to celebrate.

The night in question

This academic year I’ve been trialling a no violence policy, so drink still full and firmly in hand, I marched across to the bouncer, who was no more than two meters away from the incident, smug in the knowledge this cretin would be kicked straight out.

The bouncer informed me, as the boy looked on, that he “didn’t see it” so he “couldn’t get rid of him.” Of course he saw it. There’s no way he couldn’t have seen it. Instead, he wanted to save himself the agro of dragging someone out and probably having to fill in some paperwork.

As the boy and his friends proceeded to laugh in my face, I was so utterly livid I felt like smacking my head against the gammy, vodka covered wall. I demanded to speak to the manager who told me they’d have to review the CCTV to confirm my claims and they didn’t have time to do that. I came away having been made to feel like a pathetic, childish little troublemaker.

Happier times with a bouncer

Lo and behold, the exact same thing happened last Friday night in the SU. Do I have some sort of magnetic field around me that lures in sex pests? Or an invisible sign saying “Please grope me! Please! Go on!”?

This time, following a full, undisputed grab of the arse from yet another morally repugnant male, I took the time to point out my body isn’t a free for all and questioned what right he so mistakenly thought he had to help himself. Anyone with even the faintest of consciences would have apologised there and then.

Instead, this creature clapped patronisingly in my face, whilst sticking his tongue in his bottom lip circa year seven.  What went from a polite “can you not” on my part then turned into a full scale retaliation, me essentially chasing him round Foundry and Fusion as he ran away from my flailing fists, continuing to look me in the eyes and clap.

Soon realising I had to change tactic, I pretended with all my might to simmer down and approached him apologising for my gross over reaction and inherent anger issues. Whilst doing so I walked him straight into the arms of a bouncer who kicked him straight out. Oscar worthy.

WW3 in the SU

My friends were almost in awe of my performance and fresh drink in hand, I continued my night smug and safe in the knowledge that justice had been served. Five minutes later, I turned round to see two bouncers and a man in a suit surveying me. “Yeah that’s her” they all agreed as I stood like a rabbit in headlights.

As I turned round and tried to bolt, the female bouncer grabbed my arm and asked me to with go with them.

What ensued was essentially a Honey Boo Boo esque tantrum, I stood rigid to the spot with my arms folded. I was almost stamping my feet in anger as I declared “If you’re going to kick me out for having an issue with sexual harassment then I will gladly remove myself, thank you.”

As they lead me into a quiet room, all with clipboards in hand, I mentally ran through my options, sure of the fact I was about to be forcibly removed, if not banned from the Union. Picket board protest? Bit dull. Hunger strike? Maybe. Dirty protest? Probably too much.

Tantrum

What followed couldn’t have shocked me anymore. They explained that the boy had already been kicked out and the same was under no circumstances going to happen to me. Even though I got really angry? I asked. Yes, they said. We understand how awful it is, how furious it must make you and we have a zero tolerance policy to sexual harassment.

I sat looking at my shoes as my confused, Corona stained mind tried to take it in. As the boy was visiting from Leeds Uni, they told me he’d been barred, and asked if I wanted to make a formal complaint to his University or even the police.

I said I’d made enough of a scene, and at the time, I was happy enough in the knowledge he wouldn’t be allowed back in. They assured me that whatever action I wanted to take they’d support, and that they were here to look after me.

A face of victory

But it should not have gotten to the stage where incidents like this are now considered so minor, and so standard in a club situation that a zero tolerance policy in the SU came as such a shock to me.

It should not be the case that as a result of experiences like this in clubs, female students now automatically assume that reporting sexual harassment will lead to them being punished themselves, and avoid doing so as a result.

Like I said, I haven’t written this to bitch and moan about sexism and how awful my life is because of it. Everyone knows it’s shit. There’s no doubt groping girls in a club is wrong. What needs to be brought home is that it shouldn’t be normal, it shouldn’t be accepted and you absolutely shouldn’t hold back from making a stand against it in a club, or anywhere else for that matter.

Students Union nights might be mediocre at best, but at least someone’s actually beginning to give a shit.