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Fe-MAN-ist Voices: The Women Who Shaped My Words
[ad_1] In 1963, I stood in my grandmother’s garden, watching her pick peas and toss them into the galvanized metal bucket I was holding. I was somewhat befuddled. Most of the time I was chased out of said garden with a sharp clap of the hands and an exclamation of ‘Pot fulla blooma!’ which, when translated from…