I never met a real life feminist before, and get the treasured chance when I meet Thandie. I hate people who stereotype feminist as sodding sad old lady with fashion sense of the years of World War II and frizzy hair. But unfortunately, Thandie is slightly in the stereotype.
“Men are the roots of all misfortune of women,” her fiery eyes drill into me. I quiver. “I’m glad to meet another sister, who share this issue with me,” Thandie nods at me grandly. I flinch.
“Errr… I believe there are men who are really evil, but some of them are real fine people too,” I say cautiously. Thandie glares at me. I feel like sitting in front of my high school principal office after getting caught up jumping the school fence for a freedom from a math class.
“Don’t tell me you are bisexual,” she says, sneering. “Bisexuality is gross,” her nose wrinkles to the word. And that’s it for me. I politely excuse myself, I don’t want to spoil another minute of my precious weekend in this negative air around her. I rush to a coffeeshop where my buddies are, feel like hugging those fine people one by one, and thank heaven that they are men and women.
“Men are the roots of all misfortune of women,” her fiery eyes drill into me. I quiver. “I’m glad to meet another sister, who share this issue with me,” Thandie nods at me grandly. I flinch.
“Errr… I believe there are men who are really evil, but some of them are real fine people too,” I say cautiously. Thandie glares at me. I feel like sitting in front of my high school principal office after getting caught up jumping the school fence for a freedom from a math class.
“Don’t tell me you are bisexual,” she says, sneering. “Bisexuality is gross,” her nose wrinkles to the word. And that’s it for me. I politely excuse myself, I don’t want to spoil another minute of my precious weekend in this negative air around her. I rush to a coffeeshop where my buddies are, feel like hugging those fine people one by one, and thank heaven that they are men and women.
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