As soon as he sat down I knew
He’d be one of them, one of them
His pregnant wife busy talking to her mum, towering over her
His eyes scanned for one, a flesh to turn around his tongue
He found me
He stared and stared
I caught his eye
I stared back
I looked away
I looked back
He’s still looking
It happened again and again
Naked, dirty
I tried. Tried to shame him, tried to make him look away.
I couldn’t hold it, I looked away, and I lost
Years of training, years of gender, years of harassment
Years of being looked at, touched up like I’m not there
By them
Them
Ignorant men
Who see the female
Only the female,
Not the thoughts about swimming pools after reading that piece, not my Masters in political economy, not my lecturer lanyard, not the pain in my right toe, not my thoughts about love and the tree I’m trying to protect

None of that

He wants my flesh

I’m starting to shake, I’m going to get up and punch him in the face, the fucking little fucking cunt, I’ve got so much to be angry about this week, this month
Is it what I’m wearing, is it my legs is it my dress, is the paper covering it up enough, my neckline is high what is it
Can’t think straight, and before I can order my thoughts my arms pick up my bags as the train speeds between stations, the sun shining in as if nothing, nothing, my back straightened up and my legs moved me, despite me, stumbling, further down the carriage, like a good woman, minimising conflict, take it in, absorb, be ill from the inside, internalise, close in, keep it in
They want us to share bathrooms with them? Them? You must be fucking kidding me
Staring out of the doors as the suburbs zoom by as if nothing, nothing.
I put a meditation on, it’s not working
My heart is still beating, adrenaline pumping

I was just thinking this morning
That I feel better

Anxiety leaving me after that month

Now it’s rising, rising, into my chest, jaw, teeth
I was just thinking I won’t be as angry at boxing tonight.

I can’t believe I moved, it’s OK I moved, it’s because I would have screamed, I would have shouted YOU FUCKING CUNT STOP STARING AT ME YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING CUNT

This meditation isn’t going to help
No
I need loud
Rage Against the Machine
Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me
I change at Kings Cross
Ah, that’s better
So much better
I want to smash things up and crowd surf
Rage and Beastie Boys
You mother fucking fucking cunts

Twenty minutes have gone and

I walk up Holborn.

I know.

I know what I’m going to do next time.

I know what I’ll fucking do.

When a woman stands up she stands up for all women, for all women

I’m going to stand up and point.