Raised among men who held a constant position of elitism, in chronic judgement of others, even against those who seemed to me very similar to them. Being a big fan of questioning things as a child, I would often pose the irritating question of ‘Why?” in response to their efforts toward indoctrination. The answer I got was always the same. “You don’t understand, Jenny. That’s just the way it is.” Not quite the answer I was looking for. For them, brushing me off as an ignorant seven-year-old girl was convenient. Telling me I was failing at something was easier than admitting they were. It seemed though, that in the shadows, I had an ally. My grandmother. “You are your own person, Jenny. You have your own thoughts and ideas. Hang onto them.” It was a path I had already begun to travel but how lovely it was to have someone I valued and respected recognize that and offer me that extra bit of permission.