Tonight, I was on my way home on the streetcar when it stopped at a station and suddenly went out of service.
There was a group of two guys, a group of three guys, and me - obviously trans, obviously alone, in stiletto heels and a long tight skirt.
And the thing is, I was still totally safe. The two groups of guys didn't know each other. Frankly, I still trust myself to handle either group for a short time - long enough for a passing driver to help me, or for the other one to get involved. And neither group was really going to do anything while the other was there to witness it.
Besides, we were close to my building. Not close enough for me to walk there, at least not in those shoes. But close enough to be in the 'good neighbourhood' in what's already a pretty safe city. The whole country is pretty safe, really. And we were in the quiet, affluent, well-lit neighbourhood on top of that.
It wouldn't have been entirely unreasonable for me to walk the rest of the way home through that - if my feet could have taken it, that is.
Still, I noticed the difference. Two years ago, I would never have paid attention to the two groups of guys. I wouldn't have thought about the light, or the neighbourhood, or the cars going by. I would have gotten out, kept my nose in my ebook, and maybe not even gotten on the next streetcar. It was a lovely evening.
But this wasn't two years ago. This was now. And I'm not what I used to be.
So on this lovely evening, in my safe neighbourhood, in my safe city, in my safe country, in my low-cut shirt and four-inch heels, I stood attentively. And I shook.
andulkaphoto
amandla
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
vaporwave
areudirty
titsay
