Misogynist, I.

I was taught to think like the men of my father's generation.  When I meet a college educated man of a certain age and style of humour, they recognise in me a strange kind of kinship.  I've read the books they read, written the styles of paper they wrote, heard their lectures and held their discussions.  My childhood was their college experience.  

Were I a feminist, I would reject this as the Patriarchy, I suppose.  But instead I grew up a misogynist, who thinks the world belongs to her and no one can tell me anything because my voice matters.  A good place to live, as a female.

I've been despised by Quaker lesbians and children of the 70s, who feel they fought to earn what I claim as my birthright, because someone decided to teach them it wasn't theirs.  They feel, and they apologise for what they think, because it might be hurtful.  They are considerate.  We should all be considerate.  

And here am I, the misogynist, who says what she means and does not suffer fools who want to be hurt by words I never said.  If you want to be hurt, you will be.  If you choose to hurt, you will.  I am not responsible for your pain.  

You are.