There are times when issues are swirling around me, leaving me disquieted, confused, and I can’t quite put my finger on the source. I find myself tucking words, sentences, and articles into the Notes function of my phone, hoping it will all make sense at some point.

But some things don’t make sense.

It doesn’t make sense that women are using their voices to out their abusers, marching in solidarity, hashtagging our support and love, and then finding ways to also hate or shame one another. I revel in all of this stripping away of silence, adore the cultural move from one of shame to one of insolence and action. I had hoped it would bring us closer to one another, but was smacked by the reminder that we don’t all feel the same. This week I have been, over and over again, reminded of how far we still have to go.

I walked into a meeting and another powerful woman refused to look at me when I spoke. Over the course of the following four hours we spent in one another’s company, she refused to acknowledge me, and then belittled me to another when I was within earshot.