Dear Entitled, Gossipy, Snooty, Angry, Mean Women,

Your dismissive tone and your entitled attitude tempt me to let you know you’re not fooling anyone–we all already know you’re not any better than the rest of us and that no amount of posturing is going to convince us otherwise. Could I convince you that you’re just as good as the rest of us and that you really do deserve to be treated with dignity and respect without demanding it?

Or you, there, excuse me–oblivious, and now very put-off woman standing in the middle of the bread aisle gossiping about the “frumpy” mother down the street who doesn’t have a 9 to 5 job. Yeah, you. My too-tight underwear is on my nerves and I’m on my period, so if you could excuse yourself and move it to the side, that’d be swell–but . . . hang on–could I interest you in the idea that your life matters as much as mine and everyone else’s does and that I’m being a little judgey here? I bet we would agree on more than just that.

Ms. Edgy Headscarf-Wearing-Muslim Lady who walks through the store with her nose in the air like she owns this place . . . I wish you weren’t afraid to look me in the eyes. Salaam, my sister. Please don’t be afraid.

And to you, the woman I apologized to for bumping into at a crowded baseball rally–I was being sincere, and I’m sorry you really didn’t believe it. I wish I knew why.

And to the woman who flipped me off for honking my horn when she almost hit my car with hers–it wasn’t personal, okay? I’ve almost caused accidents before, too. I wish you could untangle from what has you so bound up.

Also, to the Mean Girls and their followers on the playground–you didn’t know what you didn’t know. It’s OK. It wasn’t your fault any more than it was mine.

And finally, my dear Entitled, gossipy, Snooty, Angry, and Mean Women,

I’ve been guilty of all these things, too.  

The good news is . . . women elevate.

To Be Continued Donna

For each time the Truth seemed to hurt

For each time compassion met you at the depth of your pain.

For every sacred moment you recognize in real time.

My story might be your medicine, and your story might be mine.

There’s more for you, Truthfairy.

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