The white guy in the high-vis vest yelled at me in an inane faux-Indian accent. I didn't hear what he said so I stood awkwardly in the bottle shop, uncertain about how to act. I skirted around the margins of my fears. High-vis swaggered closer and yelled at me in the stupid accent again. The air was electric and his mate sniggered with approval. In 2017, racism is funny in Australia.
I remember the second time he pushed me into that bathroom stall and raped me. I didn’t cry. I didn’t resist. I just let it happen in silence, my face pressed harder and harder into the cool white ceramic tiles.