I still carry shame over not being the woman culture expects me to be. Just last week, I got called a dyke while walking down my own street by one of my neighbors -- and not as a friendly greeting between dykes. My reaction, after wanting to punch the dude in the nose, was to feel bad about myself. So I'm the one that's embarrassed? Even though he's a jerk, and I know where he lives? But yes, I was embarrassed about my Hawaiian shirt and jean jacket. How am I ever supposed to heal or feel safe? Well, for one, by telling someone about it.
-- Cameron Esposito, Save Yourself, p. 20
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