A few weeks ago, a white woman came up to me as I walked through my city’s queer district.
She leered at me, barked “You’re hot” in my face, and reached out and roughly grabbed my breast.
Now, this wasn’t the first time a stranger had touched my chest in public without my consent. And so while I was hurt and disgusted, I wasn’t exactly massively surprised.
I shook the encounter off – feeling a little shaky and violated – and continued down the street.
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