I shared a story a while back. In short, I had to stop walking for exercise in my own childhood neighborhood because the daily harassment escalated from cat-calls to threats, to being followed, to literally having grown men drive alongside me as I took my regular mid-day walk or peeling off the road and hopping out to talk to me. Nothing like having a stranger get into your personal space as though you are obligated to chat, and then get pissed when you are wide-eyed and on edge. They expected me to be instantly flattered and nice whereas I was scared for my life. I couldn’t listen to music, I wore baggy clothes, no makeup. I was hyperaware. I would avoid certain streets where the verbal barrage had been the most persistent or I would do my best to ignore them and settle for being called an uppity bitch. Heaven forbid, I just wanted to go about my day my own way without being bothered. I certainly wasn’t bothering anyone. I was just trying to take a walk and get some fresh air. But somehow that was an invitation to follow me or yell things at me.

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Technophobe Who Codes | UX Generalist | Freelance Writer | Egalitarian-Feminist | True-Crime/Forensics Enthusiast

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