Pee Bucket: Navigating Risk in a Female Body
<p>I’m 13 and terrified, running as fast as the fading dusk allows. Fright and exertion trap my breath high in my chest above a tangle of live wires. A girl my age was raped here.</p>
<p>I <em>think</em> I know how to get back to the campground. Three hours ago this trail was lit by late-day sun, and I was following a new friend back to her house.</p>
<p>We’re camping in northern Michigan, having driven from western Minnesota in a 1970 International Travelall towing a pop-up camper, the kind with a handle you crank and crank and crank to raise the top and then pull out and brace the ends to support the beds — age-darkened amber foam pads disintegrating at the edges.</p>
<p><a href="https://angelajohnson1975.medium.com/pee-bucket-navigating-risk-in-a-female-body-e0969159dfcb"><strong>Click Here</strong></a></p>