Just one name. Like she’s Rihanna. Cher.
I clench my fists, my stomach turning to ice.
The first interview is a woman I don’t recognize, with bright red lipstick to match her scarf. The title card in the corner introduces her asProfessor Elizabeth Garrett, Havenport University.
“I mean…Althea Ralston is…she’s lightning in a bottle, isn’t she? I’ve worked with her eleven years, and still, I don’t think I’m any less…enamored. In awe. You guys, from the outside, see her as this icon, this fierce fighter, but those of us who know her away from all of that—I’m telling you, it’s almostmoreimpressive. She’s everything you want her to be and so much more. I’m very grateful to count her as a dear friend.”
The screen fades, and the next face I see is one of the performers from earlier, a songwriter who played a song she’d written about Ralston called “Lighthouse.”“She’s everything, isn’t she? Like, the dream. She’s what we want to be when we grow up, what we want our daughters to be. I’m just glad—if I have children someday—they’ll get to grow up in a world that Althea Ralston had a part in. I know we’re all better for it.”
The screen goes dark again, and the next face causes my breath to catch in my throat.
Dani.
She looks every bit as nervous as the first time I saw her as she tucks a bit of dark hair behind her ear. “I remember the first time I met Professor Ralston. You know, I’d spent most of my time in school listening to her speak, reading her books. My mom, my aunts, my grandma—we were all fans.Areall fans. I don’t think a holiday meal went by in my house without Althea Ralston’s name getting mentioned at least once.” She chuckles to herself. “And then when I got accepted here and into her class, I almost couldn’t believe it. It’s like…being accepted to learn from…I don’t know, Michelle Obama or something. Professor Ralston doesn’t just teach theory. She makes it feel like aconversation we’re all meant to be a part of. She makes it feel like we matter.”
The screen goes dark again, and then Jade’s face appears. I swallow, my skin cold. I can’t manage a full breath.
“She pushed me, sure, but in the best way. She challenged me—my thoughts, my assumptions, my fears. She made me see things, say things, I didn’t know I had the ability to say. That kind of mentorship, of respect—it changes you.” She looks away from whomever is asking the questions beyond the camera, until she’s staring directly into it. Directly at me. “Althea Ralston changed me.”
Her voice is joined by a growing chorus of voices, by another image of lips, then another, and another, until hundreds of women’s mouths are on the screen all repeating the same thing:Althea Ralston changed me.
At once, the screen goes black and there’s a message in white letters.
Premiering Summer 2026
The lights come up, and suddenly everyone is cheering, standing, clapping. In front of me, a girl hugs her friend. Both of them have tears in their eyes.
I want to scream.
Slowly, the crowd begins to shift—standing if they weren’t already, stretching, murmuring about dinner plans and how beautiful the program was, vowing to catch up with their favorite artists from the showcase.
I can’t move. I can’t even…think. I don’t know how long I sit there before I feel someone standing next to me.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here.” Her voice is low, cautious.
I look up, confirming. Stella.
I stand slowly, still in a fog. “Well, here I am.”
Stella crosses her arms, sizing me up like she already understands parts of me I don’t understand myself. Maybe she does. Someone should.
“Think you’ll get what you’re after?”
“Probably not,” I admit. “But then again, I’m not sure what I’m after. I just want to make sure no one else goes through what I did. And I want anyone whohas,to know they’re not alone.”
“Or you want to know you’re not alone,” she points out, though not unkindly.
“Is that so wrong?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “I’m sure there are others out there like you. Others who she hurt—whether intentional or not. She’s a complicated woman. That’s the point of the film.”
I study her in disbelief. “Really? Because it kind of seems like the point of the film is to thank her for waking the sun up each morning and collecting the earth’s entire fresh water supply by hand.”
She snorts. “She has a lot of fans, but that comes with critics.”
“I’m not a critic,” I argue. “I’m…a victim. She’s a predator. She steals people’s work. Their voices. Their drive. She isolates her students and weaponizes their ambition. She makes us feel worthless for trying.”
“Look…I’m not the bad guy here. I’m a girl’s girl or whatever the kids are saying, okay? That’s why I’m doing this. Because I believe women should support women. Women should be the one telling her story. And if I didn’t, someone else would. It doesn’t mean I believe she’s a saint, just that I think her good outweighs her bad.”
