The most honest conversation I had about gender privilege was with my aunt when I was 11. Although I usually disagreed with her traditional views, I always found her unwavering position refreshing – you could respectfully disagree with somebody who sat staunchly on one side of the fence. The conversation came about after my cousin and I overheard my aunt chatting on the phone with a woman who had given birth to a girl. Her congratulations were muted, and contained many sighs and assurances that God had a plan for everyone. After my aunt got off the phone, we strode up to her and asked why she was treating the birth of a girl like a death.