I started reading Caitlin Moran’s book How to Be a Woman in the tub, and after three chapters in, I want to air-drop a copy to every teenage girl in the world. I can still learn, though, and need to now that I’m working in an office where I mostly feel rage as female artists are relegated to sidebars about booty-offs while male singers’ lyrics are parsed as if they were poets in an eighteenth-century literature class