An Open Letter to the Guy Manspreading on the Bus

To the guy manspreading on the bus, taking up two seats instead of one, this is for you. To the guy who looks me dead in the eyes when walking directly in my path and waits for me to move, this is for you. To the guy who cuts me off in class, talks over my words and claims them as his own, this is for you. To all the men in the world who expect me to sit down, be quiet, and exist out of their way in this world, this is for you. 

To the guy who laughs when I say I hold my keys between my fingers on my walk home every night, is my fear funny to you? Does it make you chuckle when you walk closer and closer behind me down a dark street? When you can hear my heartbeat in my throat? I should not be afraid to walk home from my class in the dark, should not have to download apps that send my location to the cops and should not have to carry pepper spray in my backpack. To the guy who does not recognize the constant fear that comes with being a woman, look closer. 

To the guy who won’t call himself a feminist because he doesn’t like the connotations of the word, does it make you uncomfortable that we still have to argue for this shit? Do you not want to be a part of this movement because you enjoy my neck under your boot? Feminism is not just the wage gap, the glass ceilings, and every other obstacle you put in front of women in order for them to succeed. To the guy who thinks that feminism is all about burning bras and smashing the patriarchy and being better than men, think again.

To the guy who says he has a type, what are you looking for? Do you only like to consume bite-size women? The ones who can fit comfortably into the palm of your hand, and conform to your societal norms. A woman who loves her body is one of the most powerful things in the world and that scares you. We are not here to please you, to be your fantasy figures, to bring ourselves up to your standards. We are done allowing your definition of beauty to define us. To the guy whose type doesn’t include my curves, my cellulite, my size 14 body, your loss. You can’t handle my type.

To the guy in a congress seat who signed a bill about my body, who makes the decisions on what choices you can make? Whose property are you? Whose political pawn are you forced to play as? You see me as a vote, another issue on a ballot, as individual pieces of my body, but not as a woman. You shouldn’t be allowed to write the rules to a game you don’t even have the right equipment for. The bills you sign affect real people, real lives, real women every day, we are more than our reproductive organs. To the guy in a congress seat, my vote is for my body.

To the guy who catcalls women in public, who ‘accidentally’ brushes her ass when he walks by, don’t be surprised when she turns around and fights back. Don’t be surprised that I don’t take your comments as compliments, that when you tell me to smile I bare my teeth. My body is not public property. It’s not yours to claim. To the guy who catcalls women in public, I can’t hear you. 

To the guy who is pushing himself into my space on the bus seat, spreading his legs wide until he is comfortable, I am done making myself small so you can exist comfortably in this world. I deserve to take up the space that you shove me out of, to live in a body that exists in more then the 15 inches you allow me on the seat next to you. I am done letting your open legs drift into my space and I willingly move over for it. Next time you sit next to me, I will push my knee into your thigh until you are forced to close your legs and give me space. I will not make room for you. I will not move for you.  

To the guy who says “not all men,” I know. I know there are good guys out there who will walk me home in the dark, who will move out of my way, who will not take up part of my seat on the bus. I know you’re out there. But simply being a decent human being is no longer enough. To the guy reading this letter, recognize that you are responsible for holding other men accountable. 

To the girls who are sick of holding their keys and making themselves small, do not give up. Do not stop fighting tooth and nail, vote, make yourself heard, and never apologize for taking up space.

• feminism
• manspreading
• open letter