Not Well Behaved

So you have a problem I speak up. You have a problem with my questions. I prod for more — to find out what’s beneath the surface.

You say it’s not my business. Why? You have a problem for asking why. Now I have a problem with you not wanting me to know why. What is it about my questions that get you? If you have nothing to hide, you’d welcome the why. The why allows me to deal with the how.

So you say I have a response for everything. Not everything; just to things I know and if I did, I wouldn’t be asking you questions.

Then I wonder about your reaction to my questions. You bring the status in your world as if you’d die with such in your coffin. The more intrigued I become to get the why. The more frustrated you become.

You talk about my behavior. What behavior? I didn’t use any colorful language with you — though, come to think of it, would have been justified. How would you have expected me to behave? Oh yes, silence for my type of gender.

Your mistake is you don’t know the story of she who asked the questions. She’s guilty of not being well behaved. She learned as a child that well behaved women don’t make history. She might be quiet but it will be her choice, not yours. She’s quiet as a strategy. God help you if you’re part of that strategy.

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