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Construction worker put in his place by woman’s devastatingly witty response to catcall

"It's that simple."

via BerriDaph and Pixabay

Daphne Berry has the best comeback to a catcaller.

It’s 2023, and unfortunately, catcalling is still a problem.

While some may dismiss it as harmless flattery, it can be extremely frightening to be sexualized in public by a stranger. Further, the object of the harassment, unusually a woman, has no idea whether the catcaller's intentions are dangerous or if they’re just being rude.

Australian TikTok star Daphne Berry (@berridaph) has gone viral for her quick-witted reply to a catcaller that turned the tide and made him the subject of humiliation.

Over the course of just 5 days, the video has been seen over 4.1 million times.

“This man just catcalled me out the front of a construction site,” Berry said in the clip. “And so I yelled back at him, ‘Sorry, I don’t have any change!’”

@berridaph

According to Berry, the comeback was a hit with his coworkers on the construction site. “The way that all the men on the construction site started laughing at him and pointing at him and made him feel so s–t,” Ms. Berry said. “It’s that simple, [just say], ‘Sorry, don’t have any change.’”

The quip was a hit with a lot of the commenters, too. For some, it’s some much-needed ammo for the next time they’re catcalled. In Australia, catcalling is a big issue. A 2022 report from Stand Up Against Street Harassment found that 78% of Australian women have experienced street harassment in public spaces.

"AHAHA yes! I’m using this line," Jayda wrote. "I love this definitely trying," ciarajade20.

But the most popular comment was from a woman who didn’t find the interaction amusing. "I’d do this, but I’m not ready to die,” lobotomized q**** wrote.

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catcalling

20-year-old Noa Jansma, like many women, can barely leave the house without catching a lecherous stare, a whistle, or a vulgar pickup attempt.

"Catcalling," as its known, is a well documented phenomenon. In 2014, a viral video showed a woman walking the streets of New York for a day and getting harassed by countless men, sparking widespread discussion and opening a lot of eyes to the epidemic.

Three years later, though, the problem persists while most advice for women still centers around various ways to ignore the offenders.

Jansma decided to try a new tactic to deal with her harrassers: She posed for selfies with them.

#dearcatcallers "I know what I would do with you, baby"
A post shared by dearcatcallers (@dearcatcallers) on Sep 27, 2017 at 12:58pm PDT

The experiment, called "Dear Cat Callers," lasted a month.

When she was stopped on the street, Jansma asked the men to pose for a photo with her. Most happily obliged.

She even included snippets of what they said to her.

*honks at me 3 times with his scooter, approaches from behind and cuts off my way* "God bless, When I see you, all I get is wild thoughts, wild, Wild Thoughts!! Darling" *honks again 3 times* #dearcatcallers
A post shared by dearcatcallers (@dearcatcallers) on Sep 25, 2017 at 9:30am PDT

Why "Dear Catcallers"? To send them a message.

"It's not a compliment," her Instagram profile reads.

#dearcatcallers "weheeee horny girl"
A post shared by dearcatcallers (@dearcatcallers) on Sep 21, 2017 at 4:11pm PDT

The selfies, she writes, don't only help bring awareness to the problem (and the creeps behind it) — they reverse the power dynamic and put her back in control.

Take special note of her stoic, fearless expression in most of the photos — despite many of the men asking her to "smile" or putting their arm around her. Some are totally oblivious to her anger.

The project may be a dangerous one, but Jansma appears to be quite comfortable with sharing the frame of a photograph with her harassers.

Nog een keer #dearcatcallers *psssssst, kissing sounds and whistling"
A post shared by dearcatcallers (@dearcatcallers) on Sep 14, 2017 at 9:28am PDT

The photos also put a face to the gross and frightening behavior.

#dearcatcallers "hmmmm you wanna kiss?"
A post shared by dearcatcallers (@dearcatcallers) on Sep 14, 2017 at 8:32am PDT

Catcalling isn't just an annoyance. It's legitimately harmful to women (and people of all other genders, too).

The emotional toll of being constantly terrorized by strangers on the street can't be overstated. Catcalling also rightfully fosters more anger and suspicion toward men in general.

In some places — including Amsterdam, Canada, and areas in the United States — street harassment is even illegal. But it's tricky to enforce, and rolling out bans on this type of behavior will take quite some time.

#dearcatcallers
A post shared by dearcatcallers (@dearcatcallers) on Aug 29, 2017 at 6:33am PDT

The response to Jansma's project has been astronomical, with her account gaining over 100,000 followers in a month.

That Jansma could collect so many photos and stories in such a short time is alarming. That thousands and thousands of women across the world can easily relate to her experience is even worse.

— (@)

Now that the initial project is over, she hopes to hand off the account to women in other countries so they can share their own photos.

Every woman who stands up to her harassers will be taking a risk, but campaigns like Jansma's help make more people (men, specifically) aware of and disgusted by the problem. The more that happens, the more likely it is that catcallers become the ones who feel uncomfortable being out in public.

Stunning images of ballerinas reclaiming the streets of Cairo.

Images via Pixabay.

Dancers reclaim the streets of Egypt through a photography project.

Photographer Mohamed Taher's life has been defined by three wildly different cities.

The first was his hometown of Cairo, Egypt. The second was Savanah, Georgia, home of the Savannah College of Art and Design, where Taher earned a master's degree in filmmaking and embarked on his earliest photography projects.

The third city was New York, where Taher first encountered the Ballerina Project, an ongoing photo series that features classically trained ballet dancers posing on city streets all over the world.

Inspired by the dancers in New York, Taher went back to Egypt and started a photo series called "Ballerinas of Cairo."

At first, he says it was just a visually interesting project to work on. "The photos were just for our sake," Taher explains of the early days of the project, which he works on with fellow photographer Ahmed Fathy. "You see this movement of the ballet dancing and the roughness of [Cairo]. It makes a lot of contrast... It was kind of a niche version of the project."

See on Instagram

Taher quickly realized that the dancers in the photos weren't just dancing. They were taking to the streets where they could express themselves freely, without inhibition.

"There’s a huge problem for women in Egypt streets," says Taher. "There’s a lot of sexual harassment ... so now this was a layer of the project."

Posing for the photos gave the dancers room in the street where they felt empowered to take up space without fear.

See on Instagram

For women in Cairo, feeling free and safe in the street is unusual.

Sexual harassment and street harassment are unfortunately common occurrences for women around the world, but 99.3% of women in Egypt experience sexual harassment; a number that a UN Women report report calls "unprecedented."

"To be a woman in Egypt is to live with the crushing inevitability of sexual harassment," writes Jen Tse of Time magazine. "The magnitude of the problem is epidemic."

See on Instagram

"Ballerinas of Cairo" became more than a cool photo project. Now it's about women reclaiming the streets for themselves.

Taher and the other photographers often include the dancers' stories and voices along with their photos. "We have to give some voices for these women because we tell stories through their dancing," says Taher.

See on Instagram

Taher wasn't sure how people would react to the photos, but he says it's been overwhelmingly positive.

"I thought people were going to have some bad comments about it because it’s kind of a conservative community here," Taher explains. "But I was kind of amazed when people encouraged us to continue more and encouraged the girls to dance more."

See on Instagram

"We got a lot of comments from girls saying they want to do this, and they were very enthused about it," he says. "They want to dance on the street. They want to feel free. They want to have this feeling of being on the streets again, just walking the street."

Taher says he will be taking the project and its message of empowerment to other cities in Egypt, as well as putting together a gallery exhibition. It's not the work he thought he'd be doing, but it's the work he loves.

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A former ballerina with Alzheimer's hears 'Swan Lake' and bursts into dance in her wheelchair - Upworthy ›

A new law takes away creeps' free pass to catcall.

On April 2, 2015, Aixa Rizzo posted a video on YouTube about the lewd comments hurled at her on a daily basis.

The video went viral, with over half a million views in just a few days. Rizzo, a student from Buenos Aires, titled the video "Sexual harassment on the street: from a compliment to a violation."

In the video, she describes being subjected to incessant catcalls and lewd comments. She says the male construction workers working on a building near her home unapologetically catcalled her every day. It made her feel uncomfortable. It made her fear for her physical safety.

Rizzo in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Photo by Natacha Pisarenko/AP.

One day, she recalls in the video, three of the men followed her. She heard one ask another where they should take her. She stood her ground, gripped her pepper spray, and let them have it once they were close enough. She was prepared to defend herself by whatever means necessary.

The men accused her of overreacting. When she later asked police to write a report, the officers suggested the men were simply giving her compliments. They agreed to write up the report only after she told them the explicit nature of their so-called compliments. Finally, after an agonizing month of consideration and denial from other people, she took her concerns public. Enough was enough.

Her words in the video struck an important chord that would lead to tangible change in the right direction in Bueno Aires.

After Rizzo's video went viral, city lawmaker Pablo Ferreyra was inspired to introduce legislation. He told BBC, "Some forms of sexual harassment in public are accepted as a traditional part of our culture. That should not be a reason to tolerate this abuse."

The law would impose a $60 fine to catcallers in Buenos Aires, including anyone who commented about or made reference to a woman's body parts.

Image via iStock.

In a bold and powerful move, the city council in Buenos Aires approved the anti-catcalling measure on Dec. 7, 2016.

After all that Rizzo and women like her have been through, it's a big deal. It means that her story and the stories of others have made a difference.

Violence against women is up in Argentina, with a 78% increase since 2008. The country passed a law against femicide in 2012, making domestic violence and honor killings illegal, but that was less than five years ago. There's still a long way to go when it comes to making things safer for women.

A 16-year-old girl's brutal rape and murder in October could have also played a part in pushing this important law forward: Lucía Pérez was drugged and raped by at least two men before being left at a hospital, where she died as a result of internal injuries. Her death sparked an outrage, and people took to the streets using the hashtag #NiUnaMenos (#NotOneLess).

The passage of this legislation means that people's collective voices were heard, and that's incredible.

In broader terms, this new law also makes it illegal in Buenos Aires to capture images of genitalia without consent, engage in unwanted physical contact, pursue someone, or engage in public masturbation or indecent exposure.

It's true it's only a fine for now; it's not enough just yet. But it is a step in the right direction. This law means men like the ones who made Rizzo feel unsafe might think twice before making lewd comments and threatening bodily harm.

Rizzo recognized this revolutionary legislation in a celebratory tweet, too:

— (@)

It reads: "The law against sexual harassment on the street is a big step towards getting rid of violence against women from the start."

This new law sends a strong message to the world that this type of behavior is not OK.

It shows that there's hope for all of us: Things can change for the better when people stand up against injustices. That's always something worth celebrating.

Family

How a DIY dress helped one woman reclaim the power words had on her body.

'We should all be able to celebrate and love ourselves without fear of criticism from others, whatever shape or size we are.'

News flash: Words have power. This is something Jojo Oldham knows all too well.

Whether you're a soap star hearing lewd comments made by a politician 10 years ago or the average woman getting catcalled on her way home from work, what other people have to say about your body leave a lasting impression.

Over Oldham's 31 years of existence, she's received countless comments about her body — both good and bad.

After years of letting these words affect how she sees herself, however, Oldham was finally ready to release them and embrace herself.

She took all the comments she's heard about her body over the years and painted them on a dress. Posing for pictures, with a smile on her face, she took the power those words had over her and refused to let them dictate her self-worth any longer.

Photo via Jojo Oldham/Lovely Jojo's, used with permission.

"The love I have for my body these days is something I've had to learn. And it requires constant maintenance," Oldham wrote on her website.

Photo via Jojo Oldham/Lovely Jojo's, used with permission.

Like so many of us, Oldham says she's been in a love-hate relationship with her body for as long as she can remember. There are days when she's thrilled with how she looks, and then there are days when she wants to delete every unflattering photo ever taken of her. The comments she would receive fanned the flame of her own insecurities.

"I had 31 years-worth of other people’s comments about my body swirling around my head and popping into it on a daily basis, and I wanted to do something positive with them," Oldham explained over email.

The dress is a badge of honor, symbolic of the fact that, while Oldham may have been called these things, she is not defined by them.

Photo via Jojo Oldham/Lovely Jojo's, used with permission.

"The comments that made the final cut have all stuck with me for different reasons," Oldham wrote. "Some because they’re really weird, some because they’re really lovely, some because they’re funny, and some because they’re particularly nasty and they really crushed me at the time."

Photo via Jojo Oldham/Lovely Jojo's, used with permission.

"Once I learned how to be happy with myself as I am, the negative things that other people said about my body just stopped mattering to me," Oldham explained.

Photo via Jojo Oldham/Lovely Jojo's, used with permission.

Comments can do serious damage to even the strongest, most self-confident people. Oldham hopes her dress will help curtail some of that damage.

"We should all be able to celebrate and love ourselves without fear of criticism from others, whatever shape or size we are," she wrote on her website.

She hopes the work will inspire women to remember they are not the sum of the comments made about their bodies; they are so much more.

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Artist brilliantly illustrates the power of words in a cute, yet thought-provoking comic ›

Finally one place has realized there should be repercussions for street harassment.

If you're a woman living on planet Earth, odds are you've been catcalled at some point in your life.

Photo by iStock.

If you live in a major metropolitan area, it probably happens all too often. When I spoke to women in the United States about being catcalled, they told me about their everyday experiences of harassment on the street.

"When I was a teenager, I was told that if I didn't have huge tits, no one would know who I was," said Shelley, who lives in New York (and who, like all the women I talked to, asked not to be identified because of the sensitive nature of her story).

"One time a stranger grabbed my ass as he walked passed me, and when I yelled at him and called him an asshole, he pretended he hadn't done it," explained Heidi, who lives in San Diego.

"I was smiling on the subway and this guy follows me home, repeatedly asking me to marry him, saying I must be in love with him because I smiled at him," recounted Liv, another New Yorker.

This kind of harassment can happen anywhere.

Based on data collected by the nonprofit Stop Street Harassment, catcalling is a worldwide epidemic.

Photo by iStock.

According to their most recent nationwide study (2014), 65% of women in the United States have experienced street harassment in some form. In Egypt in 2013, the figure jumps to 99%. And in the U.K., 84% of women say they've been harassed by someone on the street before age 17.

However, that last number may drop soon thanks to a new effort to classify harassment against women as a hate crime.

Last week, the Nottinghamshire Police officially declared misogyny a "hate crime."

What this means: If a woman files a complaint with the police, it can be "tagged" as a hate crime against women, allowing the police to note how harassment starts so they can be better equipped to prevent it in the future.

The idea, however, began with a local community group.

Nottingham Women's Centre recommended that this kind of change would increase safety for women in the community. So the Nottingham Police made a public commitment to register misogyny as a hate crime and train their officers to recognize its signs.

Photo by iStock.

While the policy is not perfect (the language of the hate crime clause is somewhat vague), it's still a step forward because it teaches officers to recognize subtle signs of harassment.

Some examples include "unwanted or uninvited sexual advances, unwanted or uninvited physical or verbal contact or engagement ... and use of mobile devices to send unwanted or uninvited messages or take photographs without consent or permission."

Photo by Siska Gremmel Prez/Getty Images.

"We want to send a strong message that the extreme end of this type of behavior is not acceptable and Nottinghamshire Police will take it very seriously," Jack Storey, a police spokesperson, told Upworthy.

For that, the women of Nottinghamshire are grateful — and eager to continue the conversation.

Storey has already seen an uptick in the number of women coming forward to talk about their harassment experiences. And the Women's Centre has already had incredibly encouraging responses from women like this one, who asked to remain anonymous but has already felt a huge difference with the changes in the law:

“Yesterday I felt ten feet taller walking around this city. I literally felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was amazing because I know that many men who might normally want to shout or whistle will have read about this and they will have to stop and reflect.”

Her confidence is proof that we're winning the fight against street harassment. It's a win in the fight against fear. And it's a win for women everywhere.

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Young woman filmed her confrontation with man sexually harassing women on the subway ›

Why women smile at men who sexually harass us.

“Why do you always engage them? If you didn’t engage them, they wouldn’t keep talking to you.”

It’s nighttime and it’s bitterly cold and I’m at a bus stop with my boyfriend. We’ve just left a performance of some sort and are trying to get home, but our evening has been interrupted and it is, apparently, my fault.

Photo via iStock.

An intoxicated man stands about two feet away, swaying like a thin tree in the wind, staring at me with a fixed gaze. He appears to be living in extreme poverty, most likely sleeping outside tonight, and, just moments ago, I was worrying about how he’d stay warm.

I’m still worried, but now I am also annoyed, mostly on behalf of my boyfriend, who is visibly upset by the encounter.

The man’s knuckles are wrapped around a garbage can and his other hand is beckoning me with one finger. He has already spoken to me, too close and smelling like hard liquor, about my body and my appearance. He keeps pinballing from his garbage can to me and back again, prompting me to talk to him. This goes on for at least 10 minutes, during which I am courteous and my boyfriend grows more and more anxious.

The sexual harassment isn’t what irritates me in this moment. For me, this isn’t frightening or even that uncomfortable. This is every single day.

I leave the house. Men talk to me. I hold my breath and I am polite and I am unshakable and then I get home. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

What annoys me is the fact that I am being blamed for this moment in time, for this interaction. While this isn’t new to me — this is the price of living my life, of going to things — it is new for him. And he doesn’t enjoy it.

"Just don’t talk to him. He’ll go away," my boyfriend tells me again. His face is pale and he is clearly nervous and perhaps downright afraid of what the man will do to us — to him — next.

I’m not afraid, because I’m doing what I have learned to do to keep us both safe. The exact thing that my boyfriend thinks is causing this interaction is the thing that I know will ensure it is over more promptly and without incident. So I remain courteous as we wait.

Sometimes when I get home, I tell my boyfriend about the persistence of interactions like this, the pervasiveness of it.

Photo via StockSnap/Pixabay.

He seems aghast, but I also get the feeling that he, like of a lot of men, think I’m exaggerating.

I can’t entirely blame him; most people have a hard time grasping the gravitas of a situation until they, themselves, have experienced it. He’s never seen this happen in public. He’s never had it happen to him. And, of course, he has told me to just ignore it because that seems like the most logical approach. When you ignore things, they go away, right?

It’s hard to even be disturbed by an occurrence that happens so often because if I were to allow myself to feel it every time, I would never be able to leave the house again — something I’m reminded of whenever a man is present for an incident like this and is so very visibly shaken and at a loss for what to do or how to react.

Seeing it happen this time, though, doesn’t seem to breed empathy in my boyfriend.

Instead, it confirms everything that he believes: I didn’t ignore the man, and now he’s here, in our presence, in our life, wicking up our time and attention like water. I smiled and I was polite and that is why he talked to me — though of course, I was paying exactly no attention to him before he began to demand mine. I was doing exactly nothing to invite this man’s leering and sexually aggressive language, except for existing as a woman, which for many men is more than enough.

"Seriously, stop being nice to him. You’re making it worse."

It is worth noting that my boyfriend is a man who is, for all intents and purposes, considered one of the "good ones." He participated in Walk a Mile in Her Shoes. He has seen "The Vagina Monologues." He has read Judith Butler and bell hooks, and he knows about the male gaze and the Bechdel Test. He would never harass a woman on the street. He would never blame the victim.

Except right now, a man is making my boyfriend uncomfortable because of me. And this is the thing about being an ally — it requires very little nuance of understanding. Catching the sexism in a beer commercial? You’re an ally. Lamenting the gender wage gap? You’re an ally. Blaming women for the behavior of men in everyday occurrences of sexual harassment? Well...

The men who yell repulsive things about me from their cars or on the street. The men who follow me home. The men whose hands slip up the back of my skirt as I squeeze by for a seat on the bus. The men who wave their limp, rubbery genitalia at me in broad daylight. These interactions with men happen regardless of what I’m wearing, regardless of how I feel, regardless of how I move through the world, regardless of if I smile or not. It’s not what I do, and it’s not how I act. It is my presence — and just that!

Sometimes the attention comes with good intentions. Sometimes it does not. Sometimes it comes with no intention at all other than to interrupt and interject — someone just has something they want to say or do to me, and they can see exactly no reason not to say it or do it.

It’s not a question of if it will happen, but when and how often. How many times today. How many times for the rest of my life. How many will go sour. How many will end with me in danger.

I can’t make it stop, and I can’t reduce the volume. What I can do is ensure that it’s not worse.

Photo via iStock.

And so I smile. And I make conversation. And I am charming and sweet, and I even swallow hot stomach acid to choke out the words "thank you" because these are the actions that, it has been proven to me over and over by trial and error, work best. These actions keep me safe. But I shouldn't have to use them.

A small smile heads off the rage. A wave back keeps the situation civil. A forced laugh keeps the man outside of the drugstore from following me any farther. A full-fledged conversation when I am trapped in line helps me suss out whether or not this person is violent or just overly friendly.

And yes, I know that in doing this — in using courtesy as a weapon of self defense — that I am also actively enabling the behavior and I am encouraging it further and I am part of the problem.

But my body is not the battleground for this fight, and my personal safety is not a currency I am willing to exchange for ending it because even if I cash it in, it will persist.

For this reason, each day, I decide to be temporarily OK being part of the problem because I know that my part is the absolute smallest part. I also decide to be part of the problem because the alternative — "just ignoring it" — is also part of the problem.

On this exact night, with this boyfriend who should know better because he prides himself on understanding and hearing women, the tiredness overwhelms me, and I can’t be part of it anymore.

"No, actually, he won’t. He won’t go away, and he won’t leave us alone and actually 'engaging' is one of the best ways I know how to keep myself safe."

For the entire bus ride home (the bus finally comes), I unload all of the little scraps of indignity that I have packed around with me for all of these years. And I don’t care if he hears it or learns a goddamn thing because mostly I just need to say these things. These things that I have said above and more.

In the years since that night, I have told this exact story many times, to many men, in large part because being silent — just ignoring it — doesn’t make women safer, and I need you to know that. I just need you to know that.

The truth is, we don’t have the luxury to ignore harassment. We engage, we’re kind — because that is what keeps us safe.

But now, it’s time for everyone to engage. Because we shouldn't have to smile to stay safe.

If you’re tired of hearing about women being harassed, tired of us sharing our stories about it, maybe that’s because you’ve been ignoring it, and we don’t believe that you should have that luxury anymore either.

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