Two Woke Chics

06/13/2026

06/13/2026

Rebecca Traister noticed a pattern.
Every time a woman expressed frustration — in a meeting, in a courtroom, in a Senate hearing, on a street corner — the conversation shifted. Suddenly the subject wasn't what the woman was frustrated about. The subject was the woman's tone. Her composure. Whether she was being too emotional, too strident, too much.
The thing she was pointing at disappeared. The way she was pointing became the story.
Traister is a political journalist who has spent decades covering women and power in America. She has watched this pattern play out in small offices and national elections, in boardrooms and on protest marches. And in 2018, she published a book that laid out what she had found: Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women's Anger.
Her argument was carefully researched and historically grounded. Women's anger, she documented, has been one of the most consistent engines of American political change — from abolition to suffrage to labor rights to civil rights to the movements of the present day. Every major shift toward equality in American history had women's anger at its root.
And in every case, that anger had been called a problem.
Called hysteria. Called bitterness. Called ungrateful, unladylike, unreasonable. The word "angry" applied to a woman has historically functioned less as a description and more as a dismissal — a way of moving the conversation away from what the woman is saying and toward how she is saying it. It is, Traister argues, a tactic rather than an observation. It protects systems that depend on women's silence by making women responsible for their own marginalization.
What makes her argument different from a simple validation of rage is the historical evidence she brings to it. She is specific. She names names. She traces the way American institutions have repeatedly labeled women's political anger as pathological — and how those same women's anger, dismissed and pathologized, went on to change the law anyway.
Her book arrived in September 2018. Two weeks later, Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee. The footage of women in the halls of Congress — their faces, their signs, their voices — illustrated Traister's thesis in real time. The book became something more than a historical argument. It became a document for a moment.
She has said that women's anger, when it is visible and sustained and refuses to be embarrassed out of the room, reveals something important: not that something has gone wrong with the woman expressing it, but that something has gone wrong with the systems she is responding to.
Anger is information, she has argued. It tells you where harm is being ignored and where change is overdue.
A culture that treats women's anger as the problem is a culture that hasn't yet reckoned with what the anger is about.
Rebecca Traister spent years researching that reckoning. She found it everywhere she looked — buried in history, visible in headlines, carried in the faces of women who had been told to calm down while the thing they were angry about stayed exactly the same.
She wrote it all down.
And in doing so, she gave a name to something many women had felt for a very long time but had been discouraged from saying out loud.

06/12/2026

You won't believe this! Apparently, house cats are 9th dimensional beings. A massive grizzly bear was seen running away from a tiny house cat. It’s like the cat was telling the bear to get off its lawn, and the bear was absolutely terrified.

06/12/2026

Learned more about ghosts during an NDE. Now I know we can help them move on. Boundaries are key for this work though! Watch full episode on Tuesday, June 16th.

06/11/2026

She finished her sentence.
Ten seconds later, a man across the table said the same thing. Different words. Same idea. The room nodded. Someone wrote it down.
She sat with the question she'd been sitting with for years: did I imagine that?
She didn't.

In 2014, a linguist named Kieran Snyder decided to stop wondering and start counting. For several weeks, she logged every interruption in every meeting she attended. The results were almost too clean to believe.
Men interrupted three times more often than women. When men interrupted, they targeted women nearly three times as often as they targeted other men. When women interrupted at all, it was almost always other women.
She published it. Researchers had been documenting the same pattern for four decades.
In 1975, two sociologists at UC Santa Barbara recorded 31 mixed-sex conversations. Out of 48 interruptions, 47 came from men. In 2014, George Washington University researchers found men were 33% more likely to cut off a woman mid-sentence than to cut off another man. In 2017, Northwestern's law school analyzed twenty years of Supreme Court oral arguments. Male justices interrupted female justices roughly three times as often as they interrupted each other — regardless of seniority.
Sonia Sotomayor. On the United States Supreme Court. Same rate as a junior associate in a sales meeting.

Here is what the numbers miss.
An interruption is not just rudeness. It is an edit. A quiet signal to the room about whose words are still in progress and whose have already landed. One interruption is a moment. A hundred interruptions across a career is a record — of who got airtime, who got credited, who got called "sharp" in the hallway afterward and who got called "a lot."
Performance reviews are written from those impressions. Promotions are written from those reviews.
McKinsey and LeanIn.org have tracked this for over a decade. Women fall behind men at the very first promotion — manager level — at a rate that no later stage ever corrects. When a man and a woman contribute equally to a project, observers consistently remember the man as the primary driver. When the same project fails, they remember the woman.
The work didn't change. The interpretation did.

And here is the part that matters most: almost none of it is intentional.
Boys are already interrupting girls more often at age four. Teachers interrupt girls more than they interrupt boys. By the time anyone is sitting around a conference table, the script has been quietly rehearsed for twenty years. The pattern doesn't need anyone to mean it. It only needs everyone to keep performing it.
We look at the result — who leads, who presents, who gets named in the press release — and we call it talent. We say he's just more confident. We say she's harder to read. We hand the promotion to the personality we shaped across a thousand small moments, and then we call the outcome a meritocracy.

What changes it is not a louder woman. The research is clear on that.
What changes it is the room.
When women make up 60 to 80 percent of a group, the interruption pattern collapses. When organizations track meeting talk time as a metric, behavior shifts within months. When a chair simply says "let her finish" — she finishes. And the room remembers what she said.
The fix was never in her voice.
It was in whose voice the room had been trained to hear.
She said it first. That part was never the question. The question was always whether anyone was listening.

06/09/2026

Phoebe Bridgers did not just sell tickets to her Madison Square Garden show. She turned the act of attending into a form of direct action. Tickets were distributed through a one-dollar raffle rather than a standard sale, making access available to people who could not afford traditional concert pricing. The show itself was phoneless — no devices, no recordings, no distraction. Just the music and the room. And the money raised went directly to the Immigration Bond Freedom Fund, which helps secure the release of people held in immigration detention while their cases move through the system.

The funds were channeled through Community Justice Exchange's National Bail Fund Network, an organization that works to free people from immigration detention — people who are not convicted of anything, who are waiting, often for months, in facilities while their legal proceedings continue. Phoebe did not post about immigration and leave it there. She made the concert itself the mechanism for change. Every ticket purchased was a contribution toward someone's freedom. That is not typical artist activism. That is design.

Concerts can be more than entertainment. Phoebe Bridgers made hers proof of that.