“Hey, beautiful,” more than four times in less than a block. I can even shovel food in my face and you still cluck like you’ve never learned a thing from your mom.
I have to ignore your persistence, your verbal glare. I have to pretend I don’t hear you as I just keep walking and hoping it all ends right there.
I walked home alone tonight and, fuck, if I’m okay with how the men of the street spoke to me tonight. The leers and the soft spoken slurs. You all wanted my dress off as you tried to articulate your sick fucking words.
All the feminism I was told was “too much” is a joke next to the fear that I’ve got. All the “you’re too much of a feminist” rattling around in my brain isn’t too much for the men trying to scare me into giving my name.
You never appreciated the fire I start. The kerosene soaked words, the utter defiance in the face of the dark. You never saw me stare down a predator or slash throats that preyed on my feminine heart.
You have no idea how many blocks I’ve navigated alone in the dark.