spread.

Now, when I travel on the subway, I look for men with spread legs. I like to pretend that I am a knife cutting them in half. When I sit between to men practicing this��posture��(with the minimal space they leave open), I feel like I am silently reminding their knees that it’s OK to make contact.

I want to whisper into their ears:��Are you airing something out that cannot wait until you get home?

I want to spread��my legs and practice a yoga pose that is inconsiderate for train travel and see if anyone notices.

When I sit beside/between these men, I locate the geography of my body. Everything is squished together like the suffocated insides of a sandwich. I can barely turn the pages of whatever book I am trying to read because even my elbows are forced to squeeze against my sides.

I search for these male-spreaders with my eyes. They are everywhere.

A male on the 4 train heading uptown takes up 3 seats! I agressively/politely say, “Excuse me,” as I fold my body into one of the orange squares, forcing him into 1.5 seats.

Another on the C train heading into Brooklyn could fit an entire refrigerator box between his thighs pushed��apart like wings.

Now, people are documenting these��spreaders.��There are websites and pages giving notice to this epidemic of inconsideration.

But is there a cure?