by Moxie North
Her face was friendly if not a bit wary. He could understand why she would be suspicious of any male that came in for her class.
“And you’ve always had an interest in the history of feminism, Mr. Rochon?”
Rainier wasn’t about to lie about it. His mom would kick his ass if she found out he’d lied to a teacher. “No ma’am, it never occurred to me take your class. I’m pre-law, going into environmental law to be able to work in my family’s business. I also have a desire to also study criminal law.”
“I’m not unfamiliar with your family, Mr. Rochon. It’s a name one hears even out here in Seattle. So, you are short a credit. Why my class? I’m sure you had a few other options.”
“There were. Russian food, which honestly was not appealing. And a study on STD’s which was even less appealing. But I thought that the history of feminism would be useful in the future when I was a practicing lawyer. If I’m to take a class outside of my established curriculum, I at least want it to be value added to my career.”
“Value added? How would my class help you be a better lawyer?”
It was clear she was not buying into his desire to study feminism. He had to make his points, and fast.
“I’ll be honest, ma’am, I know the basics about women’s suffrage and that’s the extent of my knowledge of women’s studies. I’m going into a field that, although not as male dominated as it used to be, is still very much a boy’s club, if you’ll pardon the term. I’m sure that to be effective not only with my colleagues but any potential cases I may have, knowing when a bias is overlooked by others based on gender, I need to be able to recognize it.
Having a clear understanding of the history of feminism can only help me. What better way to show a court that it might be predisposed to certain ideas than to be able to point them out as being unfair. I may be a man, but I’m not blind to the struggles women have to be treated equally in our society. I was raised by a village full of strong women, I know how hard they had to work to get where they are. I’d like to learn more about those challenges.”
Professor Burrell sat quietly for a moment, studying him, assessing him. Trying to suss out if he was just bullshitting her or if he might be telling her the truth. For his sake, he hoped she saw how much he needed her help.
As Rain spoke, he also realized that he was telling the truth. He could have an arsenal of knowledge to be able to use in the future if he learned about the women from the past and present that were shaping the rights of women in their country and the world. That would be useful, and a possible leg up on opposing counsel.
“You aren’t the first male student to come to my class. Back when we used to call it women’s studies, plenty of the student body thought it was a totally different topic of study. They were soon desperate to transfer. We don’t get many men applying, not to say there aren’t a few every semester. It’s not an easy class. I suspect that it could challenge a lot of your preconceived notions. That being said, it’s often eye-opening for the women in the class too. So that is something to appreciate on an equality level. This time around you will be the only male in the class. I expect you’ll have to deal with a fair amount of resistance from the other students.”
“I don’t want to be a distraction in your class, ma’am.”
“There is no way for you to avoid it. But I will be able to use that if you don’t mind. When a group of young women enter into my classroom, they assume they will be there with only other women. They’re bound to be indignant, angry, even show disgust at your presence. I need you to continue in the mindset that you have approached me here today. I will use your presence to distinguish and diagnose the similarities of discrimination. It’s always a tough reality to face when someone thinks they are in the right, but will display the same behavior they had deemed unacceptable in someone else. I have a feeling we will all be growing and learning this semester.”
“So, I may take your class?”
“Yes, Mr. Rochon, you may take my class. I do expect you to be an exemplary student to pass. This is not a course that you can skate through. If I don’t think you are putting the work in, I won’t give you the pass you are looking for.”
“I understand. I appreciate the opportunity too, thank you.” He reached out to shake her hand across the desk.
Her hand wrapped around his. “I have a question for you, Mr. Rochon.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You say ma’am like you’ve done it all your life. Do you also hold the door open for women, walk on the street side of sidewalks, and help a woman out of a car?”
“Absolutely.”
Professor Burrell smiled. “Yes, you will be an interesting addition to my class. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Rochon,” she said, turning back to her computer.
Chapter 3
“Where have you been? We going to Zeta house tonight? They’re having a luau. Bikinis, kegs, the usual college clichés.”
Rain had only just walked through the door when he got the questions tossed at him. His brother Finley was lying on his filthy bed, shoes on, phone on his stomach, music blaring. Finley was the boy that rescued birds growing up. He was the guy that made handmade cards for everyone’s birthdays, and for a few years would recite poems for the birthday boy or girl. He was called a soft soul, a sweet boy, and the most passive person in their family. Then Finley had morphed into something completely different. Fin, as he now preferred to be called, was just about the complete opposite of the sweet guy he had been growing up in the woods as he could get.
Studies were on the back burner, parties at the top of his list, and he was making it a goal to date as many women as he could in his remaining years at the UW. He had also turned into a horrific slob. Finley seemed to be embracing the college lifestyle. The sweetest soul you had ever met came to college like a terrified mouse. But it had taken less than a year for him to burst out of his shell and become a comical example of how not to get an education. He’d changed majors so many times that Rain wasn’t sure he even knew what he was doing there anymore.
“Turn that off and I’ll talk to you,” Rain said, tossing his messenger bag on the bed.
His side of the room was meticulously clean. The bed was made and all of his books were organized on a shelf. His laptop was open on the desk, his notebooks arranged in a neat pile. Pens and highlighters in a small cup. Not a speck of dust, not an item out of place. That’s the way Rain liked it. He wasn’t anal so much as he liked things predictable, even his environment. A tidy space meant he could focus his attentions on other things. When things did get out of line, he admitted that he struggled to keep his head clear. Living with Finley and his cesspool was a constant irritation. If they hadn’t been related, he would have requested a room transfer long ago.
The music stopped and Finley grinned obnoxiously at his brother. “You’re killing my groove, man.”
“Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I decided that I needed to commune with nature today. Contemplate the vagaries of life. Besides, it’s Friday, man.”
Dropping into his desk chair, Rain tried to give his brother a disapproving look. “You are the vagaries of life. I was at the Registrar trying to get my schedule figured out in case you were wondering where I went.”
“Hey man, I’m not your nanny. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be monitoring my every move for mom? Dude, I still can’t believe you missed a credit. I mean that’s like getting hit by lightning. Have you thought about checking with the astronomy lab to see if any meteors are heading out our way? It might be a sign of the end times. Did you ever tell mom or dad?”
“No, they’d think I had a brain tumor or something and come rushing out here. Worse, Cash would show up with his sideshow and then they’d want to move in or something.”
“You might not be wrong about that. Best keep your complete lack of attention to detail a secret,” Fin snickered.
“You know that’s bullshit. I just got distracted a few years ago. It was pr
obably because of Cash anyway. He had the family in a tizzy.”
“Don’t blame him. Just accept the fact that you aren’t perfect and we can all just get on with our lives.” Fin gleefully goaded his brother.
“I never said I was perfect, asshole. I’m usually very good at details. Anyway, I got into a pass/fail class, thanks for asking. I’m back on track to graduate and return next fall for law school.”
“Rainier Rochon, Esquire. Won’t the family be proud.”
“Stop being whiny. If you’d pick a major and stick to it, you’d have a career too.”
Fin’s lack of direction was a common topic amongst the family. Rain missing a credit wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Finley’s uncertain future was a much bigger concern.
“What class did you get?”
“Does it matter?”
“Since you didn’t immediately answer, yes, it matters. Not that many pass/fail classes available that don’t suck. Tell me what class is going to be your saving grace.”
Rain thought about lying to his little brother. They usually got along fine, but lately his brother’s lack of enthusiasm for life was making him kind of a dick. He didn’t need to give him any further ammunition to torment him with.
“I’m taking History of Feminism and I’m actually very excited about it.” He said it in a bit of a rush that showed his own worry at being judged about the class.
Rain waited for Finley to react. To burst out laughing. Something. Instead, he stared at him like he was waiting for a punch line. When none came he started to frown.
“You’re going to take History of Feminism along with the rest of your classes. Aren’t you taking extra to get a jump on next year?”
“Sure, but I can handle it. Don’t you think I can?”
“Your other classes sure; you have some idea about those. But women? You have no fucking clue about women.”
Finley started to grin, and then he picked up his phone and started texting. That couldn’t be good.
“Don’t tell anyone in the family about this. I’m serious, Fin. Just let me get through this year without the family thinking they need to intrude. It’s all under control.”
“Sure it is, I’m not telling family, don’t worry. Anyone else I tell, well too bad. This is too good not to share.”
“Asshole.”
“Probably. You coming tonight or not?” Fin asked without looking up from his phone.
“Not. Go get alcohol poisoning while you still can. I need all the brain cells I have to get my diploma.”
“I’ve got a few to spare. Want some?”
“I can’t see how that would help anything. Have fun just don’t call me when you need bail money.”
Fin dragged himself off his bed, tugged at the front of his shirt and gave it a sniff before grabbing a can of body spray and covering himself in a cloud of noxious fumes that had Rain coughing before he left the room without another word.
Rain got up from his desk and lay on his bed. Propping his hands behind his head he let out a long sigh. With nothing to look at but the ceiling, he closed his eyes and turned his focus inward. His bear had been quiet today. A large grizzly bear that enjoyed the quiet things in life: fishing in the stream, running through the woods, sleeping in a warm meadow. Not that he’d had much of that lately.
Rainier respected his animal, trusted its judgment, and knew that he would never be alone with his bear sharing his body. Their matched souls were perfectly attuned to each other. His bear had settled into life in the city with ease aside from the occasional gruff about his time being let out, but it made him appreciate their times at home back in the forest where he could run and forage even more.
They’d been home recently, so Rain’s bear was happy to hang back, offering direction only when needed. This latest problem would have been easier with some input, but his bear had been abnormally quiet. No input on his mistake, no advice on what class to take, just quiet acceptance. Rain took that as his animal’s approval. If the class was a bad idea, then he’d hope that his bear would tell him. Of course, assuming his bear understood the topic of the class was also an unknown. His family of bears was big and complicated. Tons of kids, tons of drama, but it was all about the love and happy life with his family. Living happy and healthy should have been the family motto.
Living as a bear wasn’t as complicated as it sounded. Keeping themselves secret was the only thing they had to worry about. Protecting their young and their way of life was why they didn’t share who they were with the outside world. Besides, it was personal. Other shifters lived the same way, keeping their animals private and protected from the outside world. It didn’t mean they didn’t live like any other human. They just had different needs that had to be met. A shifter that didn’t let his or her animal out regularly got a little crazy. It was like you were fighting against yourself, against your very nature. It didn’t make for a quiet mind at all.
Rain had never felt the need to resist his animal. From the moment he could recognize that he was different, he’d settled comfortably between the two lives he lived. He and his animal had been together for so long, there was no stronger bond in his life. He could remember the first time he shifted during puberty. As a cub, human and animal weren’t skilled enough to coordinate shifting. A human baby would turn into a cub in PJs in a flash and then back again. Cubs were kept at home, safe from prying eyes until the spontaneous shifting stopped.
It wasn’t until they were older, when their human side needed time to mature before they shifted again. Puberty was hard enough, but knowing your animal was going to make an appearance caused a bit of trepidation. Then when it happened, it was like coming home. That constant companion inside your mind was finally able to be out, free, it was an amazing moment.
After that, shifting was a choice that was normally human led. In extreme circumstances an animal could shift against the will of the human, but it would have to be for a very good reason. Rain’s bear knew they had to live in the world as humans most of the time. What Rain wouldn’t give to be able to let his bear out to run right now. Give him a day or two to take charge and let Rain check out. It was great living in his bear’s mind when life became overwhelming. He wasn’t sure if other shifters used their animals the same way. It was the only way he knew how to turn off. Others could have a drink, play video games, watch TV and zone out. Those had never worked for him. He had to completely turn off to get any kind of break.
It was Friday and he hadn’t planned to head out to his parents this weekend. It was spring semester and he needed to be at every class. He’d already been accepted to UW law school the following fall, but that rested on the condition that he completed his work this semester. Everyone assumed that it would be a cake walk for him, and it should have been. Now there was a big wrench in his plans and he felt out of focus, out of control. His skin felt tight and the jittery sensation that he’d attributed to too much caffeine the last few days seemed to be getting worse.
“Is this how everyone else lives?” The empty room didn’t answer him back. Deciding to give himself a few more minutes to sulk, then he would get up and get to work. He had books to purchase for his next class and probably at least a syllabus to review.
“I like women, I have no idea how to talk to women, but I like them. How bad could this be?”
Chapter 4
Twisting a strand of her long black hair, she hooked the hot pink tip between her fingers. Quinn was fidgeting and she knew it but couldn’t stop. It was one of those things that she had never been able to master, like biting her nails or chewing her lip. She’d had a relaxing morning and used the time to just turn off her brain. It wasn’t often she let herself do that. There was too much riding on her future to let her guard or motivation down for a second.
At least that’s what she felt like. She was sure her mom would say the same. She’d also tell her to stop twirling her hair.
Her mother always said that it was a sign of indecision. That it did
n’t show strength, and people would use that weakness against her. Someone who considered you flighty could easily write you off. Her mother had drilled into her to never show any weakness. A bit dramatic, sure, but her mother was a hard woman.
But her mother wasn’t here. Quinn was sitting in her unofficial group they had named the “Sisterhood.” The group had formed years ago as a Wiccan group that had branched off because some of the members didn’t feel every meeting needed a ceremony to celebrate member’s “moon blood.” Periods were hard enough without dancing and praising the goddess. The Sisterhood was a social group that dealt with some very serious topics. Quinn felt like her efforts were making a difference now.
Quinn had joined during her freshman year because she knew that she was going to be the voice of her generation. Three years later she had come to realize a number of things. One, it didn’t matter how loud you yelled or how big your signs were, some things weren’t easy to change. And second, putting a dozen or sometimes more, passionate women into a room and try to stay on one topic to make a decision, was damn near impossible.
She loved her gender and knew that as a woman she had a responsibility to the young girls coming up behind her to make the world a better place for them.
Still, hour long debates about what color to make the signs to protest sexual assaults seemed to be missing the point.
“Here’s an idea, let’s decide on who we are going to ask amongst the faculty to support us, and forget the color of the signs,” she finally said.
“Quinn, this is important. If our signs don’t match we won’t look like a unified front.”
“If our signs don’t match it will show individuality and look better on social media, Sara,” she returned adding emphasis on her name like she had saying Quinn’s name. “The event is a week from today, let’s move forward.”