God may have blessed u with barbies, a backyard with a pony, a boyfriend named jake and an unwanted pregnancy that your father paid to terminate so u could go to college and major in being a basic bitch.

None of these things make u a woman.

Your uniform of ill-fitting J.Crew culottes, fake pearls, and fifty-cent scrunchies cannot conceal the fact that u do not know who u are. I know our presence threatens u.

We fought for our place at this table, and that has made us stronger than u will ever be.

Now pick ur jaw off the floor, go back to your clam chowder and shallow conversations. My girlfriends and I aren’t going anywhere.