Nope
Occasionally, not often but often enough to write this, there are moments when I feel an overwhelming pressure from strangers—this unspoken expectation that I need to entertain them, amuse them, or give them access to me in ways I never agreed to. It’s not just about conversation; sometimes, it’s the way they expect me to touch them back or let them feel me, or respond to their DM, like my body is public property instead of mine. Yes, there are times when I consent to being an interactive experience, when I step into that space intentionally—but this isn’t one of those times. Outside of that context, I’m still a person with boundaries, yet some refuse to see it.
And it feels like the stakes are even higher because I’ve seen these same people weaponize cancel culture online. I’ve watched them try to rally cyber mobs against others who made them uncomfortable or didn’t get what they felt entitled to—twisting minor disagreements into moral outrage and attaching it to some trait or identity to justify their behavior.
The fear of becoming their next target weighs on me. I find myself navigating these interactions with a guarded smile, unsure if there’s any authentic connection or if I’m just performing to avoid potential backlash. In those moments, I’m not present—I’m calculating, trying to anticipate their reaction, figuring out what version of myself will keep me safe. It’s not about curiosity or genuine interest; it’s about survival.
And so, they win. Or at least, they think they do. They’ll never know if the warmth I show is real or if I’m silently enduring an intensely uncomfortable encounter, feeling trapped and powerless. The pressure to dodge their disapproval, to avoid becoming their next target for their so-called justice, strips away any sense of ease or spontaneity. It turns what should be human connection into a performance dictated by fear.
It’s not that I care what others think of me—I genuinely don’t. What I fear is someone deciding that my ‘no’ is a crime, that my boundaries are an insult, that my refusal is an act of defiance they need to punish. I fear the way they frame cruelty as justice. That fear lingers in the back of my mind, whispering that, for some, my autonomy will always be an excuse for retribution.
