Professor Ralston’s work as a writer, podcaster, professor, philanthropist, and fearless advocate has shaped the next generation of thinkers and doers. From the classroom to the public square, her influence is far-reaching—and this event will mark a momentous celebration of her lifetime of achievements thus far. (Professor Ralston would be upset if we didn’t mention she’s not going anywhere just yet.)
The events and ceremony will be filmed as part of an upcoming documentary chronicling Professor Ralston’s life, work, and impact. If you would like to be interviewed or contribute to the documentary in any way, please respond to this email with a signed copy of the attached media release.
We hope you’ll join us as we honor a feminist icon whose voice continues to inspire critical thought, bold action, and deep compassion.
If you wish to attend, kindly RSVP to [email protected]
With appreciation,
Rachel Berg
Assistant to Dean Carlyle
Havenport University
I read through the email twice, the words swimming through my chest like tiny shards of ice.
…fearless advocate…
…influence is far-reaching…
….renowned feminist, beloved author, and trailblazing voice…
…feminist icon…
…friend, mentor, guide…
Once, I saw Professor Ralston as the world sees her. Now, her shiny façade is tarnished.
I lift a finger, hesitating for only a moment, and delete the email, anger simmering in my gut. How could they possibly think I’d want to attend? Did Ralston give them my name? Why would she?
I feel sick.
When I reach my apartment, I call Mom, but she doesn’t answer. Probably busy. I need a distraction to keep the centipedes from crawling under my skin, the thoughts from driving me to madness.
Inside, I open my laptop, intent on working on my newest book. I should text Nora and give her an update. It’s not her fault my book wasn’t good enough. She’s been a true friend to me throughout this process.
I swallow, staring at the address bar, waiting for me to give it a direction.
I try to think of anything else, to direct my thoughts anywhere else, but I can’t. I’ve spent so many years trying to forget about Ralston, trying to strike her name from my memory, and here she is, waltzing right into my inbox without warning.
I don’t try to fight it as I open the tab to search for flights, though I do pay the extra for insurance. Just in case I need to cancel.
Just in case I find my dignity between now and then.
CHAPTER TWO
The stone archway of Havenport University rises in front of me, just as ivy-covered and proud as it was fifteen years ago. I used to think it was so beautiful, so prestigious. Now it just reminds me of everything it represents.
Everything it hides.
I pull my suitcase over the uneven sidewalk and stare at the crest carved into the gate, under “Havenport.”
Veritas. Potestas. Vox.
Truth. Power. Voice. The irony burns in my chest with vengeance.
I want to laugh, it’s so ridiculous. So unfair. Nothing here has changed, and nothing ever will.
