“… So when I stand in front of you with my voice low, calculating every word that passes my lips to see if it can possibly be misinterpreted as anything else but what I meant, you can’t ignore me.
But I guess you can call me a bitch. Or tell me I sound like a bitch. Or tell me that I’m biased and don’t know what I am talking about. Or tell me that my views are wrong or worthless or stupid. Because no matter what, I’ve got to listen to you, even if you’re not paying attention while I stop myself from screaming at the top of my lungs that I have had fucking enough and I can’t take it anymore. The voice I use to be heard, my bitch voice, does not scream. It cannot scream. If it screams I am a hysterical woman worthy of scorn and derision.”