My Feminist Friend

My dear feminist friend,

When a few years ago, you started using words I didn’t understand, I congratulated myself on how smart and progressive you were. I always wanted to have friends smarter than me, friends who taught me, friends who showed me the way.

You started calling yourself a feminist. I thought I was one too, that it was in my bones even though I had never felt crushed by what you called the patriarchy. I had grown up surrounded by good, respectful men. The only industry I had experienced was fashion. All the powerful faces of fashion were women.

Some of these women had crushed me, by the way.
I never thought it was because they were women.

I had been raised in a world were men and women were equal and it had shaped my vision. I had encountered a few predators, but I had been taught what was right and wrong in the protected circle of my home. It had been easy to get out of their way.

But I was conscious that my bright reality was not the reality of others.
I was ready to broaden …