My Short Stories And One Shots

It Shouldn't Matter

To the man in the red dodge truck down the block who cat called me today

You are one of the many reasons I am afraid to wear shorts outside, shorts reveal the secrets and stories I wish you not to look at or know.

You are one of the many reasons I do not listen to music with headphones on walks. For the pouncing tiger always goes after the hopelessly distracted.

You are like a starving hyena, weak but still laughing viciously while I keep silent and walk faster.

You are the cracks in the sidewalk beneath my aching feet, the lines always continuing, all connected, always there.

My internal GPS urges me to go the speed limit and stop my hurried voyage, but grown men can sure walk faster than a teenage girl.

Although I clutch the pocket knife tucked away at my side, the one that shines with discomfort, the one I'm too afraid to leave without but too afraid to use, the one that although it's of legal length I'm scolded for carrying it. Although I clutch it at my side you do not back down. You see prey with a matching toothpick, a four course meal in sweatpants and adidas running shoes. When people scold me for wearing what I do, saying I deserve the torment I get, I scream until my lungs ache and burn that IT SHOULDNT MATTER.

I can wear a dress on a walk, it is my tattered and decayed battle armor.

IT SHOULDN'T MATTER.

I can wear heels if I want to, they are my sharpened daggers used to slay my enemies.

IT SHOULDN'T MATTER.

I can wear my sweatpants and sneakers , because I should not be shamed or objectified by what society makes for woman to cover themselves up with.

To the girl who didn't report the man who almost followed her home to the police because she was wearing a little black dress and heels and everyone she had told said it was her own fault,

I'm so sorry.

To the society that shames women of sexual assault, the women who get followed no matter what they are wearing

It shouldn't matter.