This isn’t eloquently written and probably full of grammatical errors; my mind is all over the place.
…
Last week’s election is finally hitting me.
Three times I have voted against a sexual predator/racist/misogynist/ill man as my president.
I am exhausted and hurt. Again.
It’s a complex hurt that reaches far beyond him.
As a woman, I’ve never felt entirely safe, and for legitimate reasons that only a woman would know.
…
I am incredibly sad.
I feel invisible.
…
I long for the day I can walk down a street without worry.
To not be used for sex and fun while the rest of me goes unnoticed.
To not be labeled for enjoying sex.
To not be left and written out of existence.
To not be the only accommodation.
I want to be genuinely loved, protected, respected, and safe—the same things I would give without blinking.
I want men to understand that I live in a world that mistreats me because I’m a woman.
Being a hyper-independent, confident, and strong woman does not remove my need for safety and security.
I have my dear friends who get this and have my back, but if I’m honest, I often feel alone and weary.
