I saw Williams last month in a panel of graphic novelists, and her humble demeanor and feminist talking points piqued by interest in her graphic memoir. When she explained that it was a memoir about what it's like to commute as a woman on public transit—welp, I knew I had to buy it.

Having commuted for several years (literally until this week) on NYC subways and commuter trains, I have a handful of stories and lessons learned. My friends and I exchanged reports of our butts being groped by strangers on the train, of men on the subway platform pulling down their pants, a stranger air-dropping penis photos. We passed along practical advice too: if a train pulls up during rush hour but the car that stops in front of you is conspicuously empty despite the others being full—go to another car! There is something bad on that car. Williams shares her own personal experiences, her prerogative as a memoir, so there's a lot here that navigates her particular self, which is to say she's white, straight, cis, a mother, and an alcoholic.

There are some pertinent explorations of life as a woman on a necessary function of working life in New York, but Williams explains a lot of specific stories about ex-boyfriends, sexual encounters, and her relationship with her own body. More than anything, Williams is getting at society's way of making women feel shame for the things that make us human. The drawings can be very graphic, so I avoided reading this on my actual commute. A calculated social move itself: lest I draw unwanted attention from strangers.

I find women's perspectives fascinating, and I always think there are always more stories to be heard. I don't have a whole ton in common with Williams, but I appreciate her willingness to share some of her deepest thoughts and experiences.