shake that ass, baby: men, you’re better than street harassers

a feminist rhymes-with-witch

You are walking a few minutes from your home with your friend. The silence turns into heavy stomps and deep laughter behind you. Your friend reaches for your hair, pulling it out of its ponytail, and tucks it into your cardigan.

“Stop being so bait,” she says, confidently striding down the street as you feel your palms become moist. You can tell that she’s nervous too- she tucks her key between her left middle and index fingers, her right hand firmly on your forearm as the laughter turns to howls.

“What?” you hear the voices say. “You shy? Come on sexy, keep shaking that ass!”

More laughter. You aren’t finding this very funny at all. You want to bolt, but you know that will only feed them. Your strides do not reflect the fear in your eyes that you refuse to move from a point straight ahead of you.

Minutes pass…

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