An Open Letter from One Uppity Woman Who Knows Her Name
My first job out of high school was in a little mom-and-pop fabric store in Paoli, Pennsylvania. Mr. Goldberg owned the place, and the real boss was a silver-haired woman named Dorothy Gage—kind, efficient, and clearly in charge.
When I was hired, Mr. Goldberg said, “Too many Dorothys. What’s your middle name?”
“Lee,” I responded.
“Good. We’ll call you Lee.”
And just like that, Lee was born.
My family still called me DorothyLee (all one word, the way a southern mother does), but at the shop I became someone new—independent, a little braver, someone who didn’t have to ask permission to take up space.
Decades later, the name still sticks. But here’s the twist: apparently, for many, Lee is a problematic name. I’ve been “Dear Sir-ed,” “Mr. Lee-ed,” and algorithmically misgendered more times than I can count. In my twenties, I used to shoot off snarky replies—“Get a life, pal, I’m not your sir.” These days, I mostly sigh, though sometimes the old spark rises: Really? We’re still doing this?
Ms Bitch
I adore Ms. Two tiny letters that blow a hole in the old binary. Not Miss, not Mrs.—just Ms. Independent, Ms. I’ll-Define-Myself, Ms. Thank-You-Very-Much. I even have a bumper sticker that reads:
Yes, I’m a bitch—and it’s Ms. Bitch to you!
I haven’t owned a car for years, but the sticker stays. It’s a reminder that words matter.
Because they do. Every “Dear Sir,” every casual “Hey guys,” every refusal to honor a simple “they/them” is a small erasure. It says, I can’t be bothered to look closer.
I once worked with a massage therapist who identified as nonbinary; they asked only that people use “they.” Most did. Others rolled their eyes. I saw the pain that tiny act of indifference caused.
So when I correct someone—or decide not to—it isn’t about grammar. It’s about visibility, respect, and refusing to disappear. Names are the first gift we’re given and sometimes the last we reclaim.
So yes, my name is Lee.
Sometimes D. Lee, always Ms. Bitch when the moment calls for it—and absolutely, unapologetically me.
Uppity Woman Chronicles: Reclamation
This essay is part of The Uppity Woman Chronicles — stories and reflections celebrating courage, voice, and unapologetic self-worth. The series is now unfolding into my next book.
