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My Marxist Feminist Dialectic and You

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"No, really, Britta, you have to read these, they will change your life," Annie enthuses, then breaks off, brow creasing. "I mean, you've probably already ready bell hooks, but I think that her books in the context of modern society are even more relevant, and--"

"--and one day you'll ride them all the way to the third wave," Britta says, but not in a mean-spirited way. Annie is the kind of girl who has to start in chronological order, so Britta is just pleased that they've entered the 1980s. She can hardly wait for the riot grrrl movement.

"I've decided to open myself to the innate bisexuality of the human race," Annie says. Britta's thoughts race around so fast that she's pretty sure she has whiplash.

"And this is--from your studies?" Britta manages, wondering if this is going to be one of those times when she has to demolish some tequila with a lady friend and then not talk about what happens after. Except Annie is, like, twelve, but she actually has grown up quite a lot, and she's definitely working the "sugar, spice, and everything nice" pouty lips/fluttering eyelashes combo. That bitch. "Conniving," Britta adds.

"You say the nicest things," Annie laughs, and squeezes her arm. "I have to go to class, but I'll see you later." No one should be that cute and full of innuendo. No one.

"Be there or be square!" Britta calls after her, not one to be outdone, even if she's not quite sure where "there" is. They'll make do.