When I was in eleven

A car followed me home

I still remember how slowly it’s dark tires rolled along the sidewalk

How my heart picked up it’s pace along with my feet

I felt like an animal waiting to be caught

Heart beat thumping as tinted windows rolled by 

Like a person with no eyes

I shuddered

And hid in my neighbors backyard for an hour

Before the car stopped it’s scour

And I could breathe again

When I was thirteen with my mom in the city

We got stopped by a man who said that I was “too pretty”

“Too pretty to be wearing all of those clothes”

And that “more of my skin should show”

He spat on the ground as we hurried away

And after I cried in the hotel room

My mom said “you just have to get used to it”

When I was fifteen I was followed again 

By a group of two men

Who thought it was funny to walk behind me 

Laughing and calling for seven long blocks and through a dark parking garage 

All the while that familiar heart-thumping feeling grew bigger 

There I was again, the prey of a predator

Keys clenched between my fingers 

Even when I got home the sick feeling lingered

Now every time I go out I take pepper spray with me 

I wear pants and not skirts

I lock my doors quickly 

I have apps that will call the police within seconds

I avoid making eye contact

Minimize my presence 

I wish I could ignore the voice of my mother 

Warning me to change into a more conservative cover

Reminding me to take the right measures to stop

A potential rape

A potential kidnapping

The ones plastered everyday on the news

The ones that make every girl choose

Between changing herself to avoid their attention 

Or being assaulted by guys with “good intentions”

It feels like we can never do it right 

Dress a certain way

To please a certain type

“You can’t wear that in public”

“You’ll be asking for it”

“What did you expect?”

“Just take it as a compliment”

So I’ll just wear an extra layer

The next time I go out

That will protect me, right mom?