I'm on my way to drop Zoe at a party that sounds like such fun that I'd like to go with her.
We weave across this sleepy college town talking about this and that and I notice the monogram on the car in front of us.
I shake my head in disapproval.
Zoe, look at that car! If it wasn't monogrammed with such a big swishy swirly sticker you wouldn't know a woman was driving the car.
She turns to me. Why would anyone care who is driving?
Someone who wants to follow a woman and stalk and rape or kill her. Or maybe wait by the car, knowing a girl will be coming to that car.
My patient daughter exhales patiently. That's stupid. How would anyone know if she has a concealed permit? She could blow their head off. I'll get a monogram on my car if I want and I won't let fear stop me.
You're right, I tell my daughter, a little terrified of her but equally proud.
We weave across this sleepy college town talking about this and that and I notice the monogram on the car in front of us.
I shake my head in disapproval.
Zoe, look at that car! If it wasn't monogrammed with such a big swishy swirly sticker you wouldn't know a woman was driving the car.
She turns to me. Why would anyone care who is driving?
Someone who wants to follow a woman and stalk and rape or kill her. Or maybe wait by the car, knowing a girl will be coming to that car.
My patient daughter exhales patiently. That's stupid. How would anyone know if she has a concealed permit? She could blow their head off. I'll get a monogram on my car if I want and I won't let fear stop me.
You're right, I tell my daughter, a little terrified of her but equally proud.
