street harrassment
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Maria, 16
She’s walking home from school
So youthful, so innocent
Just like they like them
Next to her a car slows down
How peculiar, don’t you think?
Then something happens
they all give me wary eyes
cross the road to avoid crossing paths
pull their children closer
holding them tighter
the drunk men hoot at my covered behind
"Allahu Akbar"
they say
Their eyes trace my skin
Like fingers on a page.
Their words find my ear
With laughter coarse as sandpaper.
The whistles echo
In the din of the street,
And although I am surrounded
The insecurites felt by woman all around easily outweigh the blank smiles on their faces. Walking the streets, car keys in hand, finger almosts pressing the panic button just in case. Scared. Worried. Panic. Called Paranoid.
