You know honestly here’s an unusual story that’s swelling back.

So when I was 11 I had my hair grown out long. Thought it was a tough biker thing to do, but in truth with my baby face it made me look pretty androgynous. Strangers mistook me for a girl a lot. Much of the bullying I took was homophobic in nature, but that’s another story.

One of the first weeks in middle school I missed the bus. The 101 left from WCI, and bypassed the Walnut Creek BART and went down Boulevard Way towards Rossmoor. But this one day I missed it, and had to get on the normal 101. This was bereft of my classmates. I was just a feminine looking 11 year old riding a bus alone. What could happen?

The bus stopped at the BART station. 10 minute layover as we waited for the train to arrive. The bus was basically empty.

An old man got on. White. Maybe 65. Glasses. Tweed bucket cap. And on that near empty bus, sat down right next to me, boxing me in, and said hello.

Every alarm bell in my head was ringing. I just had this terrible vibe–you can sit across the aisle and strike up a fucking conversation. What else would you want except… Even as a hulking hairy man mountain now, such an action would weird me out.

So I got up, pushed past him, and left the bus. I walked the last 1.5 miles home. I didn’t tell anyone about it.

When I hear about Donald Trump and what he gets up to on airplanes or what he says about 10 year olds, I believe it. I know that men do that.

And my knowledge has been compounded by the countless stories I’ve heard from family, colleagues, friends, and students. People who have had to deal with such incidents on a near daily basis.

In the next few months, we’re going to witness everything Donald Trump has built crumble. Much schadenfreude will be had.

But my continued anger and ire is directed at the people who try to deflect, minimize, or defend these stories and these actions. The people who do this, the people who rush to The Donald’s defense in the next several days… Well words aren’t strong enough.

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