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I was pumping gas when a group of teenage boys pulled up to the intersection. They rolled the windows down and one began yelling things – starting with “pump that gas, girl.” I looked up then turned to ignore him. He kept yelling, getting more suggestive but not explicit.
After months of walking to the bus to yells of “hey, girl” or horns being honked by anonymous drivers, I was fed up. So I flipped him off and yelled, “f**k you, come say it to my face, you little chickenshit.” And there was silence. Then I heard a weak, “that’s not very nice.” And they drove away.
I love his response. He wanted me to be passive, afraid, shamed, an object of his attention. My aggression set him back. I’m sure he won’t forget it soon. I wouldn’t recommend my method to anyone, but considering my audience and genuine willingness to fight it was fitting.
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