How many of us are using that ugly rationalization -- “Oh, I just have trouble making female friends; men like me better than women do” -- to justify an existence against our own self-interest?
I was unnerved that some people didn’t just disagree with me: they wanted my very existence, my very humanity, erased, as painfully as possible, starting with my vagina.
domestic abuse
Once, my mom spotted a bruised woman with three children holding a cardboard sign in the Wal-Mart parking lot. It was pouring down rain. I was seven. “Stay in the car,” she said, locking me in.
For every outraged indigence about "trampling" on the second amendment, with every word and breath, I am that young woman again, sitting in her truck in a parking lot, alone except for a 911 operator.