When a great woman dies, we need to think about her again and again.
A community limited to those who look like us will never be a community, which can only be formed through an amalgamation of differences and the necessary level of trust.
I believe there are young women, as well as older women and certainly some men, who are beginning to claim this noble, long-rooted word—feminism—that connects us to a heroic tradition as well as spurring us forward into the future.
Thirty years ago, it was a big plain farmhouse on a high rise of pasture when I first saw what would become Hopscotch House.
Women artists are always in danger of extinction; already low on the pay scale, often with too many children and no support, they can hardly be expected to devote their limited time and energy to becoming proficient professional poets, painters, sculptors…
Commitment to this kind of work, edgy, daunting, representing visions seldom seen on our stages, demands a commitment over the course of two generations that may be simply too hard to come by.
When you have learned to use your money, and your power, you will arrive at an appreciation of your womanhood unlike anything you have ever imagined.