There is a man in my life very dear and special to me. And, alas, I can never dare expressly say to him the words “I am a feminist.” I cannot use that word “feminist” with him. Because if I did, I know he would bristle and get defensive, most likely would act as though I had just out of the blue spit in his face. And yet, he himself is a marvelous feminist in everything he says and everything does. How tragically bizarre is that? I’ve long been puzzled why that word “feminist” is such trigger for him. I suspect, perhaps, very early in his life, he heard some of the ranting and raving of the radical subgroup of feminists known as lesbian separatists, concluded that is what “feminism” is, and the linkage became set in concrete in his head. So tragic. Well, at least I am happy he is a feminist…even though he doesn’t know he is. :-)

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A private person, now living mostly “off the grid.” I have a Bachelor’s Degree in Political Science (and photo is from the 80s, I’m hopelessly nostalgic)

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