How are you? I know that people ask you this a hundred times a day, never really meaning it, never really looking you in the eyes when they let it replace “Hello” as a meaningless conversation filler. But I want to know who you are. I want to hear what’s going on at work, what you are looking forward to this weekend, and the time you didn’t stand up for yourself on the playground at eight years old which haunts you to this day. I want to hear about all of it. If you have time, you should tell me.
I know it’s not always easy. I know that people are always trying to tell you — with your salary, with offhanded comments as you walk down the street, with judgments about your personal choices — that your definition of both feminine and human are incorrect. There is…
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