The last time I was sexually harassed on the street I grinned. It was all I could do. A tense, curt, close-mouthed grin that I hoped implied I was trying to be nice but also “don’t get too close to me”. It was late and I felt the fatigue in my body and I didn’t know if I could run. So I handled it the best I could. Truthfully speaking, there is no good …
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