Feminism = Cancer

I've always been a feminist. I'm lucky. My mother, Jane Caro, is a feminist, as is my grandmother, and both always have been. It's something I've never questioned and always felt confident and strident about. Just ask me about it at a dinner party (if you dare...)

So brave. And then she found out she's pregnant.

There were dark moments in the middle of the night (when all those dark thoughts come), when I felt sick at the thought of something male growing inside me.

Some kids are more equal than others.

But I know what these thoughts were now. They were a manifestation of the same feelings I've had a few times over the past year. In this patriarchal world, this world where even the best men (and women, for that matter) engage in casual and ingrained sexism, how will I raise a son who respects me the way a daughter would?

Or in other words, how can someone with a penis respect his mother?

"Casual and ingrained sexism"? This is what an utter lack of self-awareness looks like.