Emily Owen

In July I was on my way back from work, sitting on the top of a double decker bus. It was only myself and two men on the top deck. They kept cat calling, yelling “blondie” and telling me they’d “be all over me like a rash”. I ignored them, didn’t look up and began to scroll through my phone by way of a distraction. They came right up behind me and started shouting “are you fucking deaf or something”. I got off, continuing to ignore them and when I walked passed the bus they spat at me out of the window, and through their beer cans at me. I found myself questioning whether I was looking more put together that day, or had made more of an effort with my appearance. And then thinking this was incident was particularly bad because I wasn’t “asking for it” as I was hungover, wearing a hoodie, some leggings and hadn’t brushed my hair in about two days. And then I thought that should make no difference at all, why should it matter, and why am I trying to place some of the blame onto myself, by thinking that if I had made more effort with my appearance, I was somehow asking for someone to do that.