She didn’t scream.
She didn’t argue.
She barked.
That’s how one woman shut down a stranger who tried to touch her hair without permission—by barking like a dog.
And while the video went viral for the shock factor, what struck me most wasn’t the reaction. It was the preparation.
Barking wasn’t a reflex. It was a rehearsed response. A boundary drawn with bite.
And honestly? I’m here for it.
Because women have been socialized from birth to be nice. To stay small. To be “good girls.” To laugh off the comment, shrink from the stare, pretend we didn’t hear the hissed whisper or feel the unwanted touch. We’re taught to freeze, fawn, and make it to safety without causing a scene, because the real threat, we’re told, is being rude.
But here’s what we need to say out loud:
Being nice has never protected us.
It hasn’t kept us from being followed.
It hasn’t stopped the inappropriate comments in the breakroom.
It hasn’t prevented a stranger from putting their hand on our lower back, “just trying to squeeze past.”
So we rehearse.
Not for fun. Not for drama. But for survival. For sovereignty.
Watch her barking here: instagram.com/demimykal
Everyday Violations, Practiced Responses
Let’s name a few scenarios that women encounter regularly, and what a practiced response might look like if we prioritized safety over politeness:
- The coworker who always finds a reason to touch your arm when talking.
Response: Step back. Say with a calm smile, “I’m not a touch person.” Pause. Let the silence do the work.
- The man on the street who says, “Smile, beautiful!”
Response: No eye contact. Deadpan: “No.” Or my personal favorite: “That’s not my job.”
- The friend-of-a-friend who hugs without asking.
Response: Extend a hand instead. “I’m doing handshakes today,” or “I’m not hugger.” (Bonus: repeat if they ignore it.)
- The stranger who sits too close on the bus.
Response: Loudly: “You’re in my space. Please move.” Don’t whisper it. Be heard.
- The “compliment” that lands like a trap.
Response: “I don’t accept compliments that make me feel uncomfortable.” Then walk away.
- Someone reaching for your hair.
Response: Bark. Hiss. Swat. Whatever keeps your body yours.
Freeze Is a Trauma Response—But Rehearsal Is Power
We don’t always get it right in the moment. Sometimes we freeze. That’s valid. That’s human. That’s what trauma does. But freezing over and over again chips away at our sense of power. So we rehearse—not for performance, but for readiness. Because when caught off guard, we do what we practice.
And those rehearsed responses? They’re not small.
Not just a glare—a weaponized stare that says “I see you. Back off.”
Not a polite phrase—a line you practiced so this time, you don’t shrink, you shut it down.
Not a fake phone call—an exit strategy because you’ve learned the safest move is to look busy and unreachable.
Not a nervous laugh—a survival reflex you’re actively replacing with, “Don’t talk to me like that.”
Not just a breath—the beat before your boundary lands. A clear, “Do not touch me.”
These are not overreactions.
They are acts of defiance and protection in a world that has never made space for women to say, “Enough.”
We’ve been conditioned to make others comfortable, even while we feel unsafe. But you are allowed to make someone uncomfortable if they’re making you feel disrespected, cornered, or erased.
You don’t owe softness to someone who is steamrolling your boundaries.
You Don’t Have to Be Nice to Be Safe
Unlearning people-pleasing isn’t easy. Many of us were raised to believe our likability was our currency. But your boundaries are not up for negotiation.
You are allowed to:
- Say “No” without a reason
- Walk away without apologizing
- Call it out, shut it down, and make a scene
Being liked has never been worth being unsafe.
So what are your practiced responses?
What have you started saying, not just in your head, but out loud?
What do you keep in your pocket for the next time someone crosses a line?
Let’s share them. Let’s rehearse. Let’s be bold in the face of what used to silence us.
Because politeness won’t save us. But our power just might.
