On the train on the way home I was “photographed and shamed” for manspreading.
For those of you living in blissful ignorance, “manspreading” is the act of sitting in a train seat with your knees and feet slightly apart.
In my defence, there were dozens of empty seats on the train, nobody was trying to sit beside me, and I was actually in the Priority Seat, and had only got it in the first place by asking the woman sitting in it before me to shift her shopping bag full of Cava bottles (I wish I was making this up). I was also sitting with my knees apart because I had a freshly-dislocated hip and there was something terribly wrong with my patella. I’d tried to make up for this by sticking my suitcase under my seat and holding my cane to the centre of my chest, so it didn’t take up too much more room.
But, lo, I had my photo taken and was resoundingly told off for shoving my social dominance in the faces of the oppressed women on the train. The two who took my photo seemed terribly frightened of me, anyway, with the way that they did their best to loom over me and shout me down as I tried to explain that I was very ill and not in much control of my body at the moment. They were definitely the ones who were at a social disadvantage, being well-off, able-bodied, cisgender, and in greater numbers than me. Poor frightened darlings.
I should be ashamed!