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The Daily Abuses You Experience as a Woman in the World
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For most of us it starts at a surprisingly young age. The more I hear about it the less surprised I am. I was just old enough to be in kindergarten.
My mother had taken my sister and I to the grocery store. My sister, probably about 4 years old, and I, about 5, were riding in the buggy while my mother shopped around.
I recall a man. He stopped my mother just to comment on the pretty little girls with her, especially “that blond one.” Instances like this happened often.
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