I’m waging war.
Well, it’s currently a silent war and the army currently consists of exactly one person: me.
My enemy? The manspreaders.
(Manspreaders are the worst. For verification just watch the video above.)
You’ve seen them everywhere, but they’re most rife on public transport. Spreading their legs on trains. Commandeering the arm rests on planes. Taking up all their seat and half of yours on the bus just because they can.
Nice bit of manspreading on the bus (majority of my right buttock is bobbing about in the aisle) pic.twitter.com/GWv3PafzYA
— Samantha Rea (@Samantha_J_Rea) August 9, 2015
For years, like many women I’ve fitted in with them.
Stood up because of three available seats on the bus, only half a seat a small child would struggle to fit into is actually free. Clung on for dear life as half my body hangs off a seat. APOLOGISED when a body part accidentally touches theirs as they encroach ON MY SIDE.
It’s a largely female trait that slam poet Lily Myers dubbed “Shrinking Women”, where women are socialised to grow inwards rather than men who are encouraged to grow outwards.
Aware that I was a textbook example, I’ve recently been making it my active mission to claim back my space. My success rate is mixed.