Hi is a word, not a hand: On unwanted touch and everyday entitlement

“Excuse me Sir, why is your hand on my shoulder?”

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but your hand does not belong on my body.

Not on my shoulder, not on my lower back, not even hovering like it’s waiting for permission that you know you didn’t ask for.

And yet, every other week, some random man on the street decides it’s time to test gravity by grabbing my hand — not because I’m falling, no — but because he wants me to say hello.

As if my vocal cords will only activate through tactile summoning.

Sir. Siiiiir. Be serious.

There’s a strange breed of male entitlement roaming these streets like it’s on tour.

They act like they’re guest-starring in a Nollywood romance, and I’m the unwilling co-star who just hasn’t realised she’s in love yet.

Touching strangers is not flirting. It’s not charming. It’s not even bold. It’s just disrespectful.

Let me paint the picture: I’m walking. Minding my business. I’m giving “main character” energy.

And out of nowhere…bam! A hand lands on my arm. Or worse, that unsolicited shoulder squeeze, like he’s the pastor and I’m about to give a testimony.

For what?

“So you can say hi?”

So I can pretend we’ve known each other since Form Two?

So you can feel powerful for five seconds while I awkwardly yank my body away and keep walking like I didn’t just get ambushed?

No, sir. I’m not your cousin, your classmate, or your co-wife. I don’t owe you a greeting. And I definitely don’t owe you physical contact.

What makes this worse is the reaction when you pull away. “Wee dada, mbona unaringa?” “Si ni salamu tu?” Suddenly you’re the rude one, the one with “attitude”.

Meanwhile, he’s out here handing out surprise massages like he owns the sidewalk.

Let’s call this behaviour what it is: micro-harassment.

It’s the soft, socially acceptable cousin of catcalling and groping. And because it’s so normalised, women are expected to smile, laugh, or politely untangle themselves from these unwanted interactions like it’s no big deal.

But it is a big deal.

Because consent isn’t just about sex...it’s about space, touch, and respect.

Because if you wouldn’t randomly grab a man to say hi, then why do it to a woman?

And because, frankly, we’re tired.

We’re tired of explaining our boundaries. Tired of calculating how to reject you safely.

Tired of being told we’re “too sensitive” for not wanting strange men’s hands on us like we’re interactive art at a gallery.

So, to all the street philosophers, bus-stop Romeos, and handshake bandits: stop touching people without their permission.

I promise you, your wrist will survive.

Your ego will recover.

And your manners might even improve.

And to my fellow women: you’re not overreacting. That “ick” you feel when a stranger touches you without warning? That’s your body knowing something’s wrong.

Listen to it. Protect it. And if you ever feel like screaming “DON’T TOUCH ME,” know that you have every right to do so — loudly and proudly.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to buy a T-shirt that says:

“Hi is a word. Not a hand.”