Never underestimate the power of a good mani on a bad week. In you walk, out you swag.

And so I found myself in desperate need of a pick-me-up, debating over nail polish shades at a nearby manicure spot.

It had been a difficult series of weeks, and apparently it showed.

“Oooh lady, rough day?”

I was slightly offended, but conceded, “A bit, yes.”

The woman was fair skinned and tall, imposing like a marble statue. Her hair was so blonde it bordered on silver, and her pupils were a blue so light they took the color of snow reflecting sky. She is how I imagine the evil White Witch of Narnia, just friendlier and more sassy. Her nametag read ‘Olena.’

I handed her a bottle of beige nail polish, the color of sand.

“No, no,” she said. Her face would have you convinced the polish had soured like milk.  “That color will die on your nails. Absolutely die. No. Something else.” She handed me a shade of deep blue with glitter. “Here. This will look great on your skin.”

We negotiated, because if you know me, you know I just do not do glitter. A compromise: an interesting shade of purplish grey that seemed undecided as to what color it wanted to be.

I pulled out the week’s Economist to catch up on the world (if anything can give me instant perspective on life, it’s intelligent journalism from a corner of the planet that’s not the one I inhabit). The cover featured the war in Yemen. I should know more about it. I leafed my way to the cover story as Olena filed and buffed.

I tried hard to give the vibe I was focused on reading in silence, and Olena tried hard to pretend she didn’t notice. She was chatty. I eventually gave up and put down the magazine.

“I just broke up with my boyfriend,” Olena said. “Ukrainian from my hometown. Couldn’t even cook his own meals. It was a hard week for me too. He just packed all his things on Friday.” I looked at her, and it didn’t show. She was glowing. But the more I looked at her, I wondered if this was not the glow of rage.

“I turned off my phone, sat on my couch and yelled and cried until I was done. Then I realized I hadn’t left the house at all, not even to smoke. So I quit smoking without meaning to.”

And then, revelation. She told me that on the fourth day, she had this awakening.  She said it dramatically, as if it were the breakup equivalent to the seventh day of creation.

“I went on Face” she said (and apparently this is the new short-hand for Facebook), “and saw a post, not sure from who, but anyway it said ‘Accountability breeds response-ability.’ And I thought, well damn, that is so true. Plus, men are just not worth crying about. Let them cry about us.” Her gaze was so intense that it pierced.

She was over it, she told me. “I left the house, came back to work and during my break I joined Tinder.”

I do my best to get my life lessons from places other than the nail salon, but I take them where I can get them. Olena did me the favor of the week, and her breakup story fueled some thoughts for Part 2 of my Feminist Manifesto.

Several weeks ago, I wrote Part 1 – we have a gender dynamics problem (which I suspect has been there in varying forms since the beginning of human existence, but I digress). In writing Part 1, I promised there would be a Part 2. I promised this because I’ve been called out in the past: I’m quick to focus on what is wrong, but dwelling on the problem isn’t helpful unless I put thought into a solution. So I’m told, anyway. Promising a Part 2 was a way of breaking that pattern.

Yet I sat down to write Part 2 over the course of several weeks. I just couldn’t do it. The barrage of disappointing revelations about sexual harassment left me in a state of disgust and absolute fury. Louis CK? Matt Lauer? Really?

The year draws to a close and I can begin to contain the anger (although to be clear: it is fury  nonetheless). The containments allows me to channel anger with cohesion and clarity.

I’ll first address anger – I happen to be an expert at this feeling. Just ask my family members (sorry guys).

Women: there is reason to be angry. Despite society’s rejection of female anger, you are entitled to your feelings, and if the feeling of the moment is anger, so be it. Plus, we all know that the myth of the angry woman as an unfeminine blood-thirsty hysterical man-eater is a defense mechanism of the most primitive variety. But how can our anger best serve us? Can we channel it in a way that will break down barriers and build constructive conversation that feeds progress in our own lives, in our communities, and on a societal level? See Uma Thurma in action.

Men: If you haven’t already, I suggest you get angry too. Out of solidarity with other human beings who have been taken advantage of and mistreated. Abuse is abuse, inequality is inequality. Take gender out of the equation. Channel Barack Obama, Jon Hamm, John Legend, the Dalai Lama, Ryan Gosling, Daniel Craig, Will Smith, my husband. This is what feminism can look like. It’s badass.

I think back to Olena and my Monday mani: get angry, take your time to stew, stay at home for three days if need be, and on the fourth day, go out into the world and channel the heck out of your anger in a way that fosters positive change.

We are all called upon to participate if we can acknowledge the dignity inherent in every living, sentient being, because this dignity is gender-neutral.

I think back to Olena’s “men are just not worth crying about. Let them cry about us.”  I totally cringe. Girl, really?

I am a Feminist with a capital F, but this does not mean it’s helpful to fall into the ‘us versus them’ trap. The only ‘us’ versus ‘them’ that makes sense involves holding those complicit in perpetuating gender inequality accountable. Men and women should band together to do this.

And if you’ve been responsible somehow, consider how you can honestly and humbly begin to address your mistakes.

There is no need for an ‘us’ and ‘them.’ Can we see aspects of the feminine and masculine in each of us? The concept transcends philosophies. Chinese philosophy has yin and yang.  Tantric philosophy breaks it down into Shiva and Shakti, separate energies, one male and the other female, that can exist as one in perfect balance with each other. Can we resist the instinct to polarize?  This tendency can grossly oversimplify reality. Republican or Democrat, Duke or UNC (in this case Duke hands down – just saying!), East Coast or West, black or white, good or bad. The whole thing gets dumbed down, doesn’t it? How can we see life – and in this case, gender – in a way that is more textured?

I now switch gears from philosophy to Facebook. Because just when we thought Facebook could do nothing good for the world, I recall the post that had inspired Olena: ‘Accountability breeds response-ability.’

We have seen women move in masses – and men move in their own numbers – to hold perpetrators of sexual harassment in various forms accountable. This matters, and it is as much about truth as it is about education. (I wish I could say it’s also about justice, but often those coming forward see little of it.)

There is a different way in which we can think of accountability. It is personal.

Accountability starts with each of us. Empower yourself. You’ll do this by holding yourself responsible for your behaviors and the values and systems you perpetuate. Regardless of your gender, can we each hold ourselves personally responsible for treating the people around us with equality and respect? If we are in positions of power, can we behave responsibly and with a sense of duty towards others? Can we create safe spaces for people to speak up when it matters? Can we vote with our values, instead of with our fears or with our pocketbooks? Live a life you’ll respect yourself for.

Understanding that change starts from the ground up means that each of our actions and attitudes counts. It’s a concept we see everywhere. I vote because my small vote counts. I speak up because my small voice carries meaning. I recycle because the small effort is a step in the right direction for our planet.

Here, we have more of the same: we are in desperate and long-overdue need for a cultural shift. We each play a part. Consider guiding your actions in a way that protects others’ dignity. You may find it enhances your own.