My Mom Was An Underground Railroad For Abused Women: What She Taught Me About Feminism And Fear →
Once, my mom spotted a bruised woman with three children holding a cardboard sign in the Wal-Mart parking lot. It was pouring down rain. I was seven. “Stay in the car,” she said, locking me in.
I hate how the Les Misérables fandom seems to be divided into Barricade Boys and Javert/Valjean. I mean…





