Sunday Reads: The Women We Let Ourselves Hate

Barbies, farm houses, and a really good salad dressing

On Thursday night, I was at a bar with friends. While ordering a drink, I made a joke about the governor of Iowa to the bartender. Even though it wasn’t that funny, we laughed. As I grabbed my drink and left a tip, a man at the bar looked at me and said, “I hate Reynolds, she’s a cunt.”

His voice was quiet, but his words were so angry, so seething with hatred that I recoiled.

“I’m sorry,” the man said.

But I backed away like he was a snake and went to sit with my friends.