sounds outside the window.

For the first seven or so weeks of school, I was running three times a week. I'd snake through the back side of Brentwood and avoid all the construction sites, get down to the office where my roommate works, run to the recreation center, work out there, and then run home.

Every time I ran, there were men who would whistle, yell stupid shit, or try to talk to me. Why do some men think that this is okay? Do they think I should actually give them the time of day? Do they think this is flattering? Or are they really communicating to me that I should have no freedom from male stares, that my life is defined by men who give me validation?

So instead of letting it bother me, I got into the habit of flipping them off and running faster in the other direction.

Metaphor for my life.