What I learned from riding my bike on Christmas Eve.

Or, what would baby Jesus yell?

I am a fucking moron.

I am a fucking moron for riding a bike.

I am a fucking moron for wearing a helmet.

I am a fucking moron for following the laws and using turn signals.

I am a fucking moron for doing everything right.

I am a fucking moron for simply not having a car.

Oh wait, I do have a car but someone else hit and run it with their car recently so I had to ride my bike in the cold instead.

But I am a fucking moron for waiting patiently at the red light next to you, while you wait impatiently in your car in an entirely separate lane.

I agree, I am a fucking moron for not wearing headphones—which is dangerous—but would’ve prevented me from hearing you yell that I’m a fucking moron.

I am a fucking moron for letting your words get to me when I’m just trying to get somewhere.

I am a fucking moron for thinking that bike riders might be exempt from this sort of all-too-common harassment during the holidays.

I am a fucking moron for expecting people to be civil, not hostile, when entirely unprovoked.

I am a fucking moron for putting myself in danger every time I make the choice to bike, when I’m someone’s daughter, sister, lover, friend.

Hey *actual* fucking moron, what if I were yours?

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