A few weeks ago I wrote an article for Bedlam Magazine detailing my experience as a woman in an extremely patriarchal church here in France. It was something I hadn’t come up against before in such a glaringly obvious way so the experience left quite an impact.
The curser moves, the words light up. click. I plunge through pages like Alice down the rabbit hole, time left behind as one link leads to another. Home-work, lesson planning, my own writing no more important than the discarded clothes slumped and wrinkled behind my bed.
click. scroll. gasp.
You know how I moved to France for a year to learn some French before sallying forth to greener pastures? Yea, well, I can’t say I’m very good at the sallying part. It’s been a year and I’m still in France.