This is why I wear corduroys and sneakers to work every day
I have a new favorite response to verbal harassment on the T. (Or on the T platform, or on the sidewalk, or in Brazil, or where ever.) The MBTA is all over this issue, sticking to their time-honored solution of putting up posters with vaguely scolding messages. However, when angrily pointing to a nearby poster has no effect, the modern Bostonian woman needs a backup plan.
Not like I get harassed that often, but the few times it's happened, my go-to move was always to start babbling in pidgin French. This typically does not halt the harassment but just encourages the perp to speak louder and more slowly.
Anyway, here's my new tactic: I look the harasser apologetically in the eye and say, "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't speak English." In English. Any further advances are met with, "I'm so sorry -- I can't understand you. I'm not familiar with the English language. Do you speak Swedish?" You see, it's all about making them believe you're too crazy to bother with. Harasser, vanquished.
In all honesty, I'll probably never have to use this tactic again, so long as I don't repeat the mistake of sporting knee-high boots and a short skirt on the Orange Line.
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