Studying patriarchy and misogyny in an academic context is a privilege — one that I am beyond honored to experience.

But the emotional work seems to fall to the wayside, every time.

I understand that gender is fraught and confusing, but that doesn’t mean you get to walk away from the necessary investigation and the required emotional vulnerability.

You don’t get to speak the language of our foremothers, reassuring us that you will be safe and then reveal that you are detached from any ability to feel.

Detached from your internal rumblings but invested in patriarchy so you let the men in your life treat you like shit and then you resent us when we are living wholly, messily.

If you’re getting mad, get mad at your dad. Get mad at his boss, or his father, or the Puritan motherfuckers who came here and ruined lives.

And after you get mad, get sad. And after you get sad, cry. And ask for a hug, please. No conversation needed.

The repair will be slow and it can be silent, at first.

This message is for everyone.

That being said. For my women and femmes — my intellectual divas who can wrap their heads around the concepts and chew on the words, give yourself lots of room to react and recover.

I have known the concepts in my brain and still excused misogyny. Still thought I was special, an exception.

Unfortunately, structures of power are quite… well… powerful.

It is hard, it was made so.

The brain can endure abuse and rape but still twist-turn-toggle and justify these things, to survive. To not feel insane under the structure you file it away somehow and keep pushing.

I know, you don’t have to explain.

But you have to grieve. Always, especially when it is inconvenient.

I hope you can find respite, if not for yourself, for the children who are inheriting our mess.