Jennifer Ryan

It was freshman year at my small liberal arts college. I walked into my social psychology class and was immediately asked to share my “preferred pronouns.” I was appalled by the question. “Do I not look like a girl?” I thought to myself.  I hoped that would be the most uncomfortable part of my first semester; I was blissfully unaware that I would soon spend three weeks trying to “unlearn my whiteness.”   Growing up in a small, rural town in Pennsylvania, I had…