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.
“I’m a Tom-boy so I’m low maintenance.”
“I’m not like other girls.”
“All my friends are guys because girls are too much drama.”
“I’m just one of the lads.”