
If you want to know why I, an average-looking, unremarkable short woman, have the unbridled confidence of a middle-aged white man, blame my dad.
He always called me beautiful, believed in me more than warranted, and told me I was smarter than any of my three sisters (who all became doctors).
God, I miss that biased liar. I was totally his favourite child, and I didn’t realise it until after he died. I took that love for granted, not understanding it is so rare.
And I also wasted years before his death in semi-estrangement from him.