You invite me to the table.
You extend your hand and make space for me.
You tell me you understand my feminine experience.
You show me all the ways you’ve advocated for me.
You forget or just don’t recognize
that when we both come to the table, we are not equal.
The table has worked for you in ways it hasn’t for me.
The table has always been yours.
As long as you have the power to invite me to the table, the table has no room for me.