I’ve always had a big thing for public connection; catching a passerby’s eye in the habitual bustle, maybe offering a nod or — heaven forbid — a quick “good morning.” There’s something worthwhile in mustering the effort to reach out and acknowledge people. It’s important, savouring the subtle details that are so easy to dismiss but, at the end of the day, it gives you that extra little something. Cheesy, yes, but unmistakably true; to be connected is essentially to be human. But then I became a SkyTrain commuter, and everything changed. Put bluntly, people are perverts. Okay, I can’t…
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I’ve written before about the educational gap that exists between clueless-yet-prospective male feminists and established female feminists, which is why the now viral video posted by Hollaback (in which a woman, while walking New York’s streets for 10 hours, is…
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