on a friday night.

my mother, my friend Kara, and i stood outside the Chicago theater in october of my sophomore year of high school. it was my first time seeing ani difranco in concert, so i was shivering for several reasons.

uncomfortable with the dyed mohawks and women holding hands around us, my mother made small talk with a woman standing next to her. she appeared to be in her mid 40's, wearing a red windbreaker and toting a clipboard.

when the doors finally opened, my mother said goodbye and we climbed to the nosebleeds for our seats. as the opener finger picked on stage, my mom's hand flew up to her mouth in a gasp.“lindsay,” she said holding a pamphlet, “i think i just gave money to the communist party.”