The Feminist Movement of the 1970’s was a big part of my childhood. Before I even fully understood the concept of money, I was attending ERA rallies, carrying signs decrying the fact that women were paid 59 cents for every dollar a man made. I once brazenly informed my father, who was getting ready to administer a (probably well-deserved) spanking, that he had “no right to touch my body!” Wherever I went, I asserted my right to be whatever I wanted to be when I grew up, and I struggled with the choice between ballerina and dump truck driver.

Today, I am neither a dancer nor a construction worker. However, I am successful at being a wife, a mother, an active member of the community and a full-time employee. I am who I want to be, not who society thinks I should be; I am my own version of a dump truck driving ballerina.



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