Because I developed faster than the other kids.
By (11), I already knew what a cat call was.
By (12), I already knew what it meant to be disgusted by men.
By (13), I already knew that a person could look at you and know your age but can only see the boobs on your chest and the object between your legs
By (14) I did not want to be a girl.
By (14), I had already hated my body
By (14) I thought that my femininity was the cause of all my struggles and had to be ripped away from me.
By (14), men had already become a problem in my life
By (14), men twice the age of my father would hit on me
By (14), I knew how to fear men
By (15), I knew what it meant to be a victim of sexual assault
By (16), I learned that a man can respect you they just choose not to
At (17), I probably will carry pepper spray in my bag.
At (18), I will maybe be able to talk to a guy of the same age as me without jumping at the sign that they are male.
At (19), I will probably not only speak about the female problem with the male species because boys get raped too.
At (20), I will look at my life and wonder why beauty needs pain to accompany it.
I do not get why men have entitlement to our bodies.
To our way of life.
To our breaths.
Entitlement runs in their bones so deep that when they see us walk, their main mission is to make us uncomfortable.
To unnerve us.
This is their streets, their homes, their lives.
We are in their way.
Us living comfortably in our skins is too much of a disturbance that they need to teach us our place.
By the end of my time, I hope a man does not feel entitled to the constraints of my own body well enough for him to try to take it as his own.
By the end of my time, I pray I do not become a victim of rape.
By the end of my time, I pray that I do not become a victim of entitlement.