Ladies, it's time to take up space.

Here’s something to think about - space.

Actually, no - space is something we should be talking about, all of the time.

Space is something we should be changing behavior around, every day.

I’m a tall woman, standing at 5 feet ten inches tall, and some days, I love wearing a wedge or a heel, so that puts me closer to six feet tall. Unrelated, I also travel on airplanes a lot. Most of the time, these two don’t intersect because I understand that I’m tall, seats are small, legroom is tight and you know what? That’s just the way it is. That’s air travel.

A few weeks ago, I was on a short flight (thank goodness) from Portland to Seattle. These thirty-five minute flights invite you to small planes, four seats per row separated by a faded burgundy aisle. I board the plane, wedge my travel bag under the seat in front of me with enough space for my legs to fit in that space although not comfortably. I snagged a window seat, because the views on this route are magical. I remove my heavy coat, bundle it up under my arm next to the window, and plug my headphones in and continue listening to whatever true crime podcast had already downloaded to my iPhone.

All is good and normal, until my passenger friend arrives. He’s also about six feet tall, adorning a business suit and briefcase, glasses and a Starbucks. It’s Portland in the winter, so he also sheds his coat, just shrugging it off of his shoulders and arms so it lands behind him, sleeves cascading over the armrest to my seat.

I say nothing.

He opens the airline magazine, his headphones also in-ear and taking his attention. His left leg slowly leans closer to me, right leg in the other direction. Both arms are on the armrests. He’s taking up my space. We’re probably the same size, perhaps we travel this airline the same amount. We both have places to go. And he’s taking up my space.

I say nothing.

I shrink down, lean in toward the window and watch as he manspreads all over the place.

I am angry and I say nothing. And I do nothing.

The thirty-five minute flight is over. We both stand up, grab our things, and are on our way, probably never to see each other again. But I’ll see someone just like him on my trip home, and on the next trip and the next and probably forever. Because this passenger was just one of so many men, (sorry guys) that take more than their space next to a woman.

Here’s the thing. I realized that I don’t just do this on airplanes, I do this everywhere. I shrink, I adjust, I shift the space I take up depending on what is around me. And I think a lot of women do this. What if we stopped? What if we started taking up the space we deserve, that we are entitled to?

And I get it, sometimes it’s outside of our control and we have to be sensitive to those around us. I’m talking about when the playing field is equal. We should be and act and feel equal too. Because we are.

Here’s the warning to the world. Mr. Passenger Man, I’ll see you in the friendly skies and that seat I paid for, it’s all mine.

XO

Meagan