The trail

Things which remind me of my mom are everywhere. Like markers. Like the trail of light that emanates from a lighthouse. The smell of bread, a mashed potato sandwich, every feminist I meet…

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The first feminist

As I attended a session yesterday on feminism and surmounting abuse, I kept thinking of mom. Everyday that I go out and try to reclaim a bit of space for me, enter an uncharted territory where I am not welcome or speak up about women’s rights, I am following in her giant footsteps.