But there’s a day, like today, when you had a long day, and feel too tired to yell. Too tired to express the anger. Too tired to hold your tears when some stranger on a motorbike squeezed your ass and laughed as he fled. All you want that it never happened. And you just stared at the older man who saw it and told you to stop crying, because “it’s just a pat”. You’re speechless. You’re tired.
Because to him, it’s just a pat or a squeeze. To you, it’s a violation of your personal space, your haven, your approval. To him it’s just a pat or a squeeze. To you it’s a cruel act, telling you that what you wear, how you behave, or do things that make you feel proud of yourself, doesn’t matter that much. Because on the street, you’re just a piece of meat that they can touch whenever they want to feel more powerful.
There’s a day, like today, when I wished I had the power to be invisible.
