...it was on my trip, a recreation of the same one my mother made in 1974, complete with a Greyhound bus ride across the midwest, that, at the age of 35, I finally saw his face. He was a violent bully of a man who died some years ago, whom my mother had never allowed me to meet... Until the gathering, I had only known the violent past of my grandfather through obscured images and stories.
I wanted to learn from June who my mum was when everything still seemed possible. My mother embodied a spirit of hope and a fierce belief in women's rights during a transformative era, which I aimed to capture in my book.
The early holiday celebrations weren't the only surprise when I arrived in Michigan. The Thanksgiving dinner sparked reflections on family legacy and how past struggles of women resonate with current issues, particularly feminism's evolving narrative.
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