Shit, shit, shit. Warning bells went off in Tasha’s mind. TERFs! They were all TERFs, weren’t they?When a woman in the front row who seemed more like a witchy grandmother than a radical feminist smiled at her, some of Tasha’s worry ebbed away. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. People could change, right? Hadn’t that been the entire point of her own memoir? The moon had many phases and was always allowed to change, so why couldn’t gender be the same way? And really, she thought now, why not these ladies’ previous bad thoughts? Maybe this bookstore was on some atonement streak and she was now the person they turned to for absolution of their past ways. That was still a bit too much drama for her liking, but better than the fire and brimstone she’d just envisioned when she remembered the womyn born womyn policy that had plagued her beloved LGBTQ community for decades.