This morning over breakfast, my eight-year-old said to me: “How can we live in a world where survivors’ stories are not listened to and a rapist now sits on the Supreme Court?”

I answered: “Shut up, voices in my head; I don’t have an eight-year-old (that I’m aware of).”

Then I sat her down (metaphorically, as she was already sitting down at the kitchen table; and yes, it’s a she – she can choose her gender when she can vote and drink alcohol) and said: “We need to talk.