We have circumnavigated the globe, scaled its highest mountains, plumbed the depths of its oceans, and walked on its moon. We can create a human life in a petrie dish, watch news stories unfold before our eyes, and store the entire Library of Congress on a microchip.
What was once believed to be impossible is now taken for granted - we even elected a black man, who campaigned against a woman, to be President of the United States.
But a person like me (or Lissa, or Tam, or Roberta, or Nicki, or Labrat, or Farmgirl, or Jennifer, or Brigid, or Phlegmmy, or Zendo Deb, or...) with a gun? Unthinkable.
Now, imagine for a moment that inside the Starbucks just a few yards away from the protest, is a group of ladies who had gathered for an afternoon of tea, pastries, and camaraderie. A diverse group including perhaps a young professional, an artist, and a stay at home mother, they are all open carrying. Business casual, blue jeans, or baby in tow, each woman has a gun on her hip.
...and oh, how they'd laugh at the suggestion that somehow they all wished they were men.