A common theme in my writing is the harassment I get on the street and through other experiences in my day-to-day life. I’ve never sugarcoated or been shy of talking about it. I hoped that doing this would help to improve things. I hoped it would make people think about their actions. But who am I kidding? None of those people are reading my writing.
This harassment has always come in waves. At different points in the year (sunny days, occasions for a lot of drinking) the harassment will get worse. At other points in the year, my days are relatively untouched by dickheads. But I’ve noticed something lately.