Taking Up Space

Refusing to Shrink for White Men

Photo by freddie marriage on Unsplash

Let’s talk about how, for folx on the margins, our very existence is political. It is resistance.

This afternoon, I went into a busy used bookstore and coffee shop to peruse the aisles and order an herbal tea. There’s a real diversity of people in this space, and for the most part, folx share space with each other pretty well.

However, week after week, I’ve noticed a pattern, specifically amongst white men.

If I’m in an aisle looking at books, they’ll come in and expect me to automatically shrink or move aside for them. As they creep down the aisle and get closer, they start to clear their throat or shuffle loudly, like that noise alone should make me step out of the way.

But there’s no hello. No “Excuse me, may I please squeeze by?” No acknowledgment of me as a human being.

And they don’t do this to each other.

They do it to me, as a white, fat, disabled, nonbinary person with boobs and purple hair.

So, what do I do?

I take up space.

I turn my back to them. I pull a book off the shelf and open it with one hand, and put the other hand on my hip to broaden my footprint.

My existence is resistance. Taking up space is resistance.

To borrow the words of Sonya Renee Taylor: “To live without apology, to occupy space unapologetically, is a revolutionary act.”

When I refuse to acknowledge white men behaving this way, they typically stand there for a moment, befuddled. Maybe they rustle some pages or clear their throat again. Sometimes, they get a little too close. When that happens, I start coughing, or decide to stretch and yawn.

Occasionally, they’ll walk around to the other side of the aisle and just stand there, staring at me.

And I stay exactly where I am, taking up space while enjoying a book.

Petty? Maybe to some people.

But for me, it’s a way of showing myself that I am a human being who is worthy of existing and taking up space. It’s how I remind myself that I don’t have to live by the rules of oppressive systems that value some lives more than others, putting some people at the top at the expense of everyone else.

And I’ve noticed: they don’t just do this to me. They do this to every more marginalized person, especially those with boobs.

I’ve seen them try it with the Black woman on a date with her boyfriend, the one who was laughing and chatting about how much she hates Trump. I noticed it with the Japanese woman browsing the classic literature section, and the woman in a hijab glancing at memoirs.

But here’s what I love: none of these people moved either.

Everyone seemed to quietly but firmly hold their ground. They stayed where they were, taking up space without paying these random white men any mind at all.

This kind of quiet resistance flies in the face of social norms that teach white men they deserve to take up space so fully that everyone else should just move, shrink, submit, and defer to them.

I do not owe cishet white men (or white women) anything at all, including acknowledgment, attention, deference, niceties, submission, smiles, shrinking, or friendship.

And neither do you.

If you’re someone who is intersectionally marginalized because you are queer, trans, disabled, neurodivergent, fat, Black, Brown, immigrant, or otherwise pushed to the margins, I invite you to consider where and how you might take up more space. Not for anyone else’s comfort, but for your own wholeness, joy, and belonging.

Likewise, when we find ourselves in spaces where we hold more privilege than others, we need to consider where we might demand less. Where might we pause, step back, notice who’s already there, and choose not to center ourselves by default?

This matters, because presence is powerful, and how we move through shared spaces says everything about the world we’re building, or upholding.

Taking up space isn’t always loud or confrontational. Sometimes it looks like staying exactly where you are, choosing not to yield, and refusing to apologize for existing.

Other times, it looks like stepping aside, on purpose and with intention, to make room for someone else to stay right where they are.