One time, after a hectic day at work, I got my bike out to ride around for a bit. I wanted to enjoy the night breeze.
While I was cycling, a disgusting creature on a motorcycle grabbed my behind. “Isn’t what you’re doing inappropriate?” he asked.
I pedaled faster to catch up with him, cursing at the top of my lungs. I tried to catch up with him but couldn’t.
And he, like the animal he was, didn’t look back or even flinch.

“If you were a man, you would have stopped, but you’re not a man!” I yelled.
The only thing I cared about was not being quiet about what had happened. I was going to call him out at the top of my lungs.
A disgusting creature like him wasn’t going to take away my freedom, my desire to ride my bike, my enjoyment cycling down the streets of Egypt, the moon, the breeze.

He wasn’t going to take away from me the things I wanted to do, just because I was a girl and couldn’t enjoy a simple bit of exercise without getting hurt.
I wish I could have caught him. I would have hit him where it hurts the most.