By Lisa Marchand
There are many things I love about being a woman. In fact, many days I’m grateful to live in this day and age as a female. But there are some days, ones that still come too often, where I wonder how progression still feels so stagnated. Days where I cannot comprehend the disrespect we face on the streets.
Several weeks ago I left the bus shaking, immediately dialing my father to tearfully thank him for being the man that he is. Shortly after, I called my mom to tell her what happened. What I experienced churned up feelings inside of me that meant—although grown up and on my own—I still needed my parents to process the mysteries of the world.