All of the experiences in this comic are either directly from my own life or related to me by people I know and care for.
I don’t know, I’m all mad today. In the elevator in my building a woman decided she had an opinion about something I was wearing around my neck and grabbed it so she could tell me what she thought, and got mad when I told her to fuck off. I’m on the subway and a stranger wants to touch my hair. Every time I fuck someone or love someone, 0r change my body or decide whether or not to wear make-up or talk about the people I love, I prepare for the cascade of opinions or tirades or thinly-veiled self-congratulatory tolerance and it’s easier now to just not share, to hold those precious things private.
I’m tired of my body and my life being public property, of my identity and choices being used by others for leverage, at that entitled hurt or anger in their eyes when I don’t want to play along. I’m tired of seeing the people around me get manoeuvred or manhandled or held up like fucking pariahs when they just want to be left in peace. I’m bored of being someone else’s politics. I don’t want to talk – I’m just reading my book while I’m on my way home.