Dear white men of Portland - I understand that Portland asks very little of you. That many of you are able to freely walk down most any street with your designer backpack & those fresh Vans you'll never actually skateboard in. But here's something that I want you to think long & hard about. As a small woman, who often walks alone, I have lost of count how many times a day one of you walks eerily close behind me -until I can almost feel your mustache hairs on the back of my neck - and instead of you politely saying an adult "excuse me," you silently creep to the point that I feel an historically fearful jolt run through my body and step out of the way simply to get some space.
And then, when I sarcastically ask you if you "need to get by?" you let out a soft murmur, stop in front of me on the sidewalk and take an iphone pic of "Logan" on the movie theater marquee... I should have tripped you at the pass.