Monday: “Nice legs”, “Why don’t you smile?”, “You’d be sexy if you didn’t have a bitch face”.
These words reverberate in my ears as I run faster along the main road, my “bitch face” progressively hardening after each catcall. Turning up my earphones to the highest volume, I try to block out the voices of the leering and aggressive men. But I feel dizzied and disoriented when, without hearing his words, I see a man’s mouth moving fast, addressing me and approaching me on his bike. Startled, I increase my pace and run past him, looking away – only to find him waiting for me, trying to speak to me as I run back along the same path later. I can sense his anger when I look away and don’t respond. This happens every time. I begin to question whether these streets are mine to use.