I started writing this month’s column about a rather dull and inoffensive topic. I have been struggling lately to avoid controversial issues since so many people are personally affronted when someone disagrees with them or presents information that they would rather not be aware of.

However, the leaked Supreme Court document about overturning Roe v. Wade was publicized as I was teaching an essay to my students in the prison titled, “We Should All Be Feminists,” by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. We discussed feminism in class, and in his journal one of my best students criticized me for remaining silent during the discussion. Since I was the only woman in the class, he said, he and his classmates would like to know my position. To be clear, although I refer to Roe v. Wade in the beginning of this paragraph, Adichie’s essay does not refer to abortion.

In our next class I responded to my student’s request. I explained that I didn’t give my opinion because as a teacher I feel my job is to present information, not tell them what to think or to brainwash them into taking on my beliefs. I have found that when a teacher gives her opinion, the students feel that is the “truth,” so it shuts down discussion. Real learning occurs when students connect the dots on their own. I reminded them that when we read The 1619 Project, I provided the reading and the context but didn’t join the discussion except for some historical clarification. I listened to them talk about their experiences as Black and Brown men. I am not Black, so my knowledge of being Black in America is limited to what I read and hear from people who are. So, I asked them, why is it that so many men feel they can tell me what it is like to be a woman? They laughed and many nodded.

Adichie’s essay, the class discussion, and their journals stirred the memories that lie dormant in my mind. During my life I have had men (including bosses, boyfriends, and this random guy sitting next to me on the bus) tell me how I should dress, how I should speak, how I should walk, and how I, as a woman, should talk. The guy on the bus asked if I had my husband’s permission to commute to NYU from Kingston. This was in the early 2000s and he was not an older man from a different generation. I also have had men make comments about my body that are not appropriate for a newspaper column — and were not appropriate to say to me, either. I have learned to ignore rude behavior from men and even accept it as normal. But these experiences have taken their toll, possibly magnified because I avoid confronting and dealing with them. Some of my anxiety and insecurity stems from the conflict of being “me” while simultaneously attempting not to raise the ire of those who dislike independent, intelligent women. I am angry at not being comfortable being myself. And, from so many years of playing a role, I am honestly not even sure who this “self” is.

Some of my students agree with Adichie that the world would be better if we eliminated socially constructed gender roles and accepted each other as people, without the stereotypical masculine and feminine traits. Adichie actually begins the essay talking about how “we do a great disservice to boys” by raising them “to be afraid of fear, of weakness, of vulnerability.” But my student who asked for my opinion was right; many of the men in our class are comfortable with current gender expectations. Some even appeared angry during discussions when their classmates agreed with Adichie. One said in his journal that he felt the level of testosterone during the discussions silenced him; he didn’t want to speak out about his support of feminism.

I understand how difficult it is to dismantle beliefs that we have been programmed to accept as normal. Once we begin to question one seemingly minor tradition, like why some men are intimidated by strong women with successful careers, many behaviors come under scrutiny. This type of deep self-reflection can completely change how we perceive ourselves and the world around us. That is scary.

At the end of last week’s class, one of my students wondered how women view men and suggested I write about it. What an assignment! How do I think of men? Some men are wonderfully supportive and loving. Some are egotistical jerks. Some are openly emotional; some appear emotionless. Many are somewhere in between. Men, like women, are complex. Every time I try to come up with a definite statement about men, like they are more assertive or logical or aggressive, I can think of many men who do not fit into those boxes — and many women who do.

I wonder if this response is another example of me avoiding the issue of feminism and the fact that men have always had more legal rights and privileges than women. Men still are paid more than women even with similar qualifications in the same career. Men who impregnate women still walk away, no strings attached, unless the woman or her family presses charges. Violence against women, including rape, still occurs way too often. And no one legislates what a man can do with his body.