sheila.webbhalpern

cross-posted from jspot.org

No, not in the good way.

I consider myself a feminist. A proud and public one. Most who know me would emphatically agree. I also consider myself good at confrontation. It feels awkward to use the word “good,” but it’s the right one. While I don’t revel in them, typically , I manage difficult conversations very well.

So why oh why, is it so ridiculously hard for me to tell a creep on the subway that the way he is invading my space is inappropriate and unacceptable? Bloody hell, it’s next to impossible for me to turn to the person beside me and say, hey you, stopping touching me.

Is it just me? I know it’s not. I’ve had this conversation with friends and co-workers. And I know I’m not the first woman to make the brilliant observation that men often take up more than their fair share of space.

Last night, I’m on my way home. Riding on one of the new NYC subway trains with the long blue seats. I’m sitting at the far right, next to the handrail. The train isn’t very crowded. After a few stops, a young, thin guy sits down next to me. For no legitimate reason, he could fit a soccer ball between his legs.