Sitting Pretty

Somehow I'm always in a car when I take selfies. Maybe it's because I have some time to just fidget with my phone in the passenger seat; maybe because I put some care into my appearance when I go somewhere; but maybe (and most likely) it's because I have a self-confidence surge. When I'm sitting in the car as opposed to a wheelchair, people actually see me, and appreciate me. Driving through an empty Oakland one Christmas day, I'll never forget, someone called "What's up with you girl?" I think it was a compliment. I've gotten checked out and even whistled at, in the car. In my wheelchair, only more enlightened people will see me for what and who I am; this serves me by negating those who are more shallow from my life, but all the same it's nice to be noticed. Now, I can already hear the angry feminist protest: the outrage that someone could want attention for their looks and thusly feed into rape culture. Not only is what I'm saying vain and superficial, but begging for the wrong sort of attention. I implore thee- how is it offensive to admire feminine beauty? How have we all, worldwide, come to fear the divine feminine so thoroughly?

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