Once when I was really unhappy in college,  I wrote a long weepy note on the wall of  a bathroom stall because I didn’t feel like I could tell anyone that I was unhappy. I wrote it in pencil and as soon I as I re-read it I felt embarrassed and tried to erase it all off.  Then I forgot about it.  But  a couple of months later I was in the same bathroom stall and to my surprise the wall was now covered  with all these lovely encouraging and  sympathetic  responses to my half-erased message.

I don’t think I had ever felt so seen and listen to.

It was such a powerful, positive feeling .

This blog post  on Gender and Bathroom Graffiti from Sociological Images  reminded me of that. And of that feeling.

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