Last week, a man decided it was okay to grab my butt in public. In broad daylight. In front of my five-year-old twin boys. We were standing on a street in Toronto, waiting for the light to change, when I felt a very intimate?very intentional?caress.
I was stunned. I looked down at my kids, fresh from the playground, their faces slightly sticky from jumbo Freezies. My hands were weighed down with their coats and backpacks full of drawings and half-uneaten lunches. My single, blinding thought was, ?This stranger can?t do this to us.?
I began to chase him, with my kids clinging to me. I yelled at him to stop, dropped the ?F? bomb several times, called him nasty names and generally used language I?d reprimand my children for.
Perhaps the worst part was that this person, with his big dark glasses, didn?t acknowledge me at all. He took something he wanted and never once looked at me as a person. He didn?t even break his stride as I chased him. When I caught up, I hit him with my kids? backpacks as hard as I could, and shouted: ?Why did you think you could touch me"?
I noticed two women standing on the street, staring at me, choosing not to get involved or help. Their indifference made me feel like I was an unhinged person causing a public scene for no good reason.
So, I took my children home. 
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