It was the dark ages of the 1980s. “Safe spaces” were spots in which parents dumped drooling infant millennials who, nearly two decades before the year 2000, had yet to earn their whiny monikers.
“Trigger” was something found on a gun or the name of Roy Rogers’ horse.
Political correctness was beginning to choke students and faculty members ensconced on influential college and university campuses across America. Like Zika, de rigueur “progressive” rules of thought and deed soon spread virulently from person to person. (Or am I being speciesist?)
This was the time that I, once a naive, straight female Jewish liberal, transformed into a neo-conservative.
It started in my senior-level Women’s Studies class at the State University of New York at Albany. In it, I eagerly lapped up lectures about gender inequality and man-hating delivered by a charismatic, openly lesbian professor who didn’t seem to notice, or care, that the few dudes enduring her lessons might as well have worn “Kick Me” signs on their backs. – READ MORE
