"...Interchangeable?"

"Unfortunately, that's indeed the case" The feminist professor acknowledged in front of her students, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Cassie might be a skeptic, but she wagered that was only because the young girl was normalized to the truths of the world. Then again, it was why she taught this class: to broaden the minds of the next generation. She decided to open the question to the rest of her students.

"Does anyone have examples of men treating them interchangeably in their lives?" As expected, over half the class's hands shot up, even a few from the select handful of male students in attendance. To her, they were her bravest students; despite sharing society's patriarchal beliefs, they came to this class to challenge it and hopefully leave enlightened.

Liz picked her first student, Angela - a mousy brunette who tended to sit near the front of the class - and the girl answered loud enough for her classmates to hear. "A lot of my girlfriends and I never grew up knowing our fathers. A lot of men of that generation changed from women to women, sleeping with them and getting them pregnant, before moving on. They shared the belief that if you'd slept with one girl, you'd slept with them all."

The professor nodded in acknowledgement at the answer, recognizing the belief. It was one that was often cited when people talked about the objectification of women. She then pointed to Dana, one of the redheads in the back.

"I'm currently living with my uncle, but it isn't by choice. My dad and his brothers each had daughters and, well, to them we're all interchangeable. I was expected to respond to the names Dana, Julie, Ellen, and Brianna. And which Uncle I ended up 'as a father' was whoever took me home that night as they left."

"I'm sorry that happened to you" Liz said, empathizing. She'd grown up in a similar family situation; it was all too common. She then gave Maribel permission to speak, the black girl's voice cracking under the anxiety of what she was about to share.

"I grew up in one of the poorer African countries before immigrating here. It's much worst over there; at least here, from what I've noticed, women still have a degree of autonomy in regards to their individuality. Over there, it's similar to what the other girl described, but much worst. We're expected to do everything any other girl can do because we're interchangeable in every aspects of life. One day, I can be a man's wife; the next, the elementary school teacher; and the day following that, someone's younger sister. None of us are seen as unique. It's why I moved here."

Turning her gaze back to Cassie, Liz hoped the young girl was starting to understand the situation, and it's severity. During the personal accounts, Cassie had been focused on each speaking in turn, but never lost her looks of skepticism. When Maribel quieted down, Liz address Cassie once more. "Well Cassie? Do you see why it's a problem?"

"I mean, when you contextualize it that way, sure." She began. But knowing the girl, Liz could already see where her strand of logic was heading. "But what about the benefits of being interchangeable? I grew up in a home with four girls and, due to how my father saw us interchangeably, participated in so many different activities simply because my father couldn't bother to keep track of which daughter did what. I played sports, did art, sang in choir, and so much more. I've become so versatile as a person!"

Before Liz could address Cassie's comment, another hand shot up just as quickly. One of the male ones this time - Sebastian, the only male student in her group who didn't seem to possess an open mind.

"Cassie makes a good point," He began once given permission to speak, "In my experience, I've ask different girls to do the same task on a day to day basis, not caring who I'd asked to do it in the first place, and each of them completed it to expectation. Doesn't that mean there's a bit of truth to the notion that girls are versatile and interchangeable?"

"I.... suppose that's true." God, these questions were starting to get on her nerve. Why did the dean have to assign her to this feminist lecture this week? She was technically the official professor for Latin in History, not Understanding the Patriarchy and its Role in Society. That prof, Dr. Martin, was currently teaching Astronomy. Astronomy!

The dean respected the male professor's choices and let them teach their own classes for an entire semester but when it came to the women, his view was "If you can teach one, you can teach them all", and he often changed them around as per his whims.

"You're not even our real professor!" One of the faceless students, a redhead who sat in the back, called out. They were all faceless, really. Since Liz didn't know which class she'd teach from week to week, she never bothered learning their names.

Her comment stung though. While that was indeed true, Liz wasn't about to be made fun of by a teenager. "You're probably not even registered in this course!" She shot back, silencing the girl. Evidently, she wasn't.

Mid-way down the lecture hall, the girl from before, Cassie, chuckled softly to herself. "Okay, maybe I'll save the issue about women's interchangeability when Dr. Martin gets re-assigned to this class. I'm sure she'll be better equipped to answer my questions. How about we discuss..." She referred back to her list, picking one of her topics.