She sighs and narrowly avoids reaching out to steady him. "I will when I will," she says. "It's a process that will happen at its own pace."
Maybe he'll accept that.
She keeps silent for the ride, steadfastly staring ahead to avoid the glances of strangers who have, apparently, never seen a hijabi before.
There is one man, however, who becomes increasingly difficult to ignore, his stare is so brazenly unbroken. After several stops and no departure on his part, she sighs and looks back at him, meeting his eyes calmly.
"Have you been helped, sweetie?" she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
Her open condescension does the trick. The man straightens up in unconcerned offense, his stare now less accusing and more disgusted.
He answers her in a low grunt, only partially audible under the metallic shriek of the train; she rolls her eyes before he's even done, it's just the usual shit, terrorists and murderers, yes, yes. Oh, nice, a slur, how original. She laughs derisively and shakes her head. Joke's on you, buddy, no one's killing her good mood. Not today.
Her lack of reaction, as it often does, only garners more scorn; the man snaps, "Take that thing off in here. This is America."
She looks, this time, at Rush, who she'd previosuly been avoiding; the only thing worse than being spoken to like this is having it done in front of friends. But that opening was too good.
"Oh my god," she says, giving him a theatrically accusing stare. "We're in AMERICA? How drunk did we GET last night?"
public harassment and racism, bc apparently this thread was too delightful
Maybe he'll accept that.
She keeps silent for the ride, steadfastly staring ahead to avoid the glances of strangers who have, apparently, never seen a hijabi before.
There is one man, however, who becomes increasingly difficult to ignore, his stare is so brazenly unbroken. After several stops and no departure on his part, she sighs and looks back at him, meeting his eyes calmly.
"Have you been helped, sweetie?" she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
Her open condescension does the trick. The man straightens up in unconcerned offense, his stare now less accusing and more disgusted.
He answers her in a low grunt, only partially audible under the metallic shriek of the train; she rolls her eyes before he's even done, it's just the usual shit, terrorists and murderers, yes, yes. Oh, nice, a slur, how original. She laughs derisively and shakes her head. Joke's on you, buddy, no one's killing her good mood. Not today.
Her lack of reaction, as it often does, only garners more scorn; the man snaps, "Take that thing off in here. This is America."
She looks, this time, at Rush, who she'd previosuly been avoiding; the only thing worse than being spoken to like this is having it done in front of friends. But that opening was too good.
"Oh my god," she says, giving him a theatrically accusing stare. "We're in AMERICA? How drunk did we GET last night?"