by Mithra Ballesteros In a small corner of my kitchen hangs this framed needlepoint rooster, one of my most beloved possessions. My Persian grandmother stitched it when she was a young girl living in Hamadan, Iran, probably sometime in the 1920s. Her name was Zarrin and she was … [Read more...] about The Rooster in My Kitchen
There is a reason I use the word history, and not herstory, as might be predicted by my role as a feminist. I grew up in a time and in circumstances where I could not grow to be anything but a self-declared feminist. However, in many ways I am a traditionalist, though a quite … [Read more...] about Why Her Story?