My father was an aircraft mechanic who often flew to Morocco in the 1950s to repair downed U.S. aircraft, probably at the Port Lyautey Naval Air Station near Casablanca. He sent us postcards of exotic-looking people leading camels through the desert and brought home...
Thinking back, I realize I had many early signs that I was a feminist, which continued as a constant thread through my life with growing awareness and frustration at the social inequities. The world just didn’t seem fair. At first, I wondered why. Then, in succession,...
