To the boy who catcalled me at work - I respond to words, not whistles, and if you're looking for somewhere to start, try my name.
To the friend who thought what he did was cute - I repeat, I respond to words, not whistles, and if you're looking for some polite conversation, I suggest walking out the door, because you wont get any from me.
To the people who told me I was asking for it - I communicate with words, not my wardrobe, and if you're looking to defend him with my self-confidence, move along. I'm not your justification.
To the manager who asked if I wanted to file a formal complaint - That form is not an eraser, won't delete the memory from my brain, won't push him to a metamorphosis of attitude, won't wipe the tears from my eyes that night, won't heal the battle wounds of my defeat that day. So no, I don't want to file a complaint.
To the teacher who said "boys will be boys" - your job is to educate, and I suggest beginning with a lesson on the difference between an object and a person.
To my body - I don't hate you. You aren't the stars in the sky, you aren't a worm wriggling through the dust, you aren't the most interesting thing about me by far. But I swear to you, we won't let them win.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
