![]() Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women's Anger They rushed down the beach before it crossed my mind to whip off my own top. When I made no move toward shielding her son from the girls' scary, tempting, and corrupting bodies, she pulled him out of the water by the arm. The four children were physically indistinguishable, physically active on a hot beach. She might have been equally dumbfounded if I had taken the time to explain that her statement was an overtly sexist sexualization. It wasn't until she was near my daughters that she'd realized this. ![]() I thought we would just keep walking, but when we got close to the children, she said loudly, 'You really should put tops on them.' At first, I didn't understand her. His mother and I, farther back in each direction, waved and smiled. Eventually the children came together, playing in the water with on another but not talking. The boy seemed to be around the same age. Eventually a woman and her son appeared in the distance, moving lazily in our direction. ![]() Wearing bikini bottoms but no tops, my children alternated between making sandpiles and running into the sea to cool off. It was astonishingly hot, and the sun, bouncing off a clear sea and blinding sand, was relentless. ![]() “The summer my daughters were six and four, we were at the beach one day and went for a long walk. ![]()
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