What is the thing I do 360 times a year – in other words, almost every day? It’s not that easy to say. I probably cook, if warming up leftovers counts. I put my kid to bed, when I’m not doing any work events that collide with bedtime. Almost every day I have the urge to pick up a book, and almost every day I fail. I do my skincare routine, if it’s not one of those depressing days when I refuse to look in the mirror. I buy myself a pack of cigarettes. I call my friends. I laugh. I feel bad for not having quit smoking long ago. I take a walk.
But most definitely, I’ll be humiliated by a cisgender man shouting a slur at me on the bus, belittling my work, touching me without consent or making inappropriate remarks about my body – and I’ll choose to keep quiet about it. Peace of mind over a demand for basic decency.
