Text & Talkie: “Maleficae” (2013) & “The VVitch” (2015)

Late October.  And whether you celebrate Samhain, or Hallowe’en (remember when the apostrophe was essential?), it’s always the season of the Witch.  So I thought the Hallowed Holiday most appropriate for sharing my thoughts on two artistic renditions of the Witch in history: a stunning collection of poetry by Emma Bolden from 2013 titled Maleficae, and the 2015 film, complete with archaic kerning, The VVitch: A New-England Folktale, written and directed by Robert Eggers.




Maleficae (2013), Emma Bolden’s magnificent collection, takes its title from the Latin for “witch,” or “sorceress.”  It was also a term for black magic, or evil-doing, and the ending “-cae,” makes the gender form of the word clearly female.  The image on the cover is from a seventeenth-century (1608) woodcut for Francesco Maria Guazzo’s Compendium Maleficarum, a witch-hunting manual, and illustrated the chapter titled “On Incendiary Witchcraft.”  Bolden lets the reader know before the cover is cracked open that these poems aim to set fire to the reader’s core, while also foreshadowing how we already know it ends (spoiler alert: the witch burns).

It’s refreshing to read a “non-Salem-focused witch” collection, and Bolden doesn’t hold back, mining the theological as well as the mythological and the historical to portray one lone woman’s descent into the hell of accusations, arrest, and execution.  These are well-researched poems that are fully inspired by the primary sources (Biblical quotes, witch-hunting manuals, trial records, folklore and herbalism) that make up this tragic and misogynistic history, and the language is lyrical, incantatory, as if viewing history through–dare I say it?–a veil.

I don’t have permission to quote from the book, so I’ll link to two of Bolden’s poems here, from the Cortland Review:


The VVitch: A New-England Folktale (2015) is a horror film that puts forth the idea, “what if the concept of witches and witchcraft, in the Medieval European sense, was true?” and places it in the context of one family banished from their colonial community (Plymoth, Massachusetts is implied).



This film captures a belief system at one point in history.  While the setting of the story is clearly colonial New England,  it wasn’t Salem-esque; rather, the mythology of the Continental belief in witches were used.   And the more the viewer knows about the trials, in the sense of what was constructed as the mythology of witches, the more they’ll appreciate what was woven into the film.

The crew worked for four years with Plimoth Plantation staff to get the time period correct, although it’s not meant to serve as a historical documentary. (My only historian criticism: I had a difficult time suspending disbelief to believe one banished family of six could build a house that size.)

There is a Eurocentric hubris in this New World setting that drives the whole film, and permeates it with a constant tenor of foreboding.  Embracing the theological narrative  that women are inherently evil,  the artistic imaginings of the witches in these New England woods come straight out of the text of the Malleus Maleficarum (Hammer of the Witches).  These include nuances that emphasize the idea of control, that the colonists “own” the land, can tame the land and woods, can repress women. It was a brilliant choice to have the continental trials as the focus of the witch portrayals and of the dialogue, instead of the expected Salem Village,  given the Plimoth Plantation-like setting.

The microcosm of the family spiraling out of control in their attempt to exert control on their new environment while still desperately clinging to their continental views of witchcraft and women, mirrors the macrocosm of what women are politically and socially facing now: men pushing back against women asserting themselves and their own agency.  It’s possible that this reflection of our current cultural struggles, artistically and wondrously portrayed in a time where the rootedness of those beliefs began that offers the real horror here, and why so many people feel it speaks to a “now” even more than “then.”

Happy Halloween.  Live Deliciously.

Upcoming Appearance: TONIGHT! Spidora poems featured in Clare Gallery

She’s Alive!!!

4 Spidora - vintage photo 3

Spidora exhibit, c. late 1800s. Photographer unknown.

Two “Spidora” poems will be featured in an exhibit and reading at the Clare Gallery in Hartford.  “Spidora Embroiders Her Words,” a concrete poem from my Strange Girls collection, will be on display, and the poem “Spidora’s in the Pink” inspired by contemporary artist Amy Hannum’s work, will be highlighted in tonight’s reading.

Clare Gallery
Thursday, September 20th
6 pm to 8 pm, reading begins at 7 pm
Free, parking also free in Saint’s Lot

The Webs We Weave is the newest Clare Gallery installation and includes paintings by international artist Amy Hannum and poems by poets inspired by her Spiderweb Series.  Ms. Hannum captures abandoned webs onto her canvas, making the web itself part of her medium, and during an artist talk in October will share her method for transferring the delicate web into her paintings.

Other poets included in the exhibition are: Joe Adomavicia, Eileen Albrizio, Steve Balkun, Tarringo T. Basile-Vaughan, Joanie DiMartino, Brent Terry, and Rhonda Ward.

The exhibit will be on view until Wednesday, October 31.

Clare Gallery is located in the Franciscan Center for Urban Ministry at 285 Church Street, Hartford, CT. Free parking is across the street in Saint’s Lot. The entrance is handicapped accessible. Phone: (860) 756-4034.

Upcoming Appearance: TWO this weekend–Book Barn & Colchester History Museum

Happy National Poetry Month!

I’m kicking off the celebrations in a big way–with a featured reading followed by leading an informal workshop!

Front Cover FINAL

Book Barn
Niantic, CT
Poetry Reading
Friday, April 6th
6 p.m., Free

Joanie DiMartino, Suzy Lamson, student voice Holly Richmond and Glenn Shea will read their work.  Refreshments to follow.  This reading will take place at Book Barn Store Four.  For directions click here.

Last summer I had the pleasure of reading along with Suzy and Glenn, and it was such a wonderful evening we decided to have an encore performance, inviting youth poet Holly Richmond to join us!  I’ll be reading selections from Strange Girls and my upcoming manuscript, “Wood to Skin.”


Colchester History Museum
Colchester, CT
First Saturday
Saturday, April 7th
11 a.m. to 2 p.m., free

CHS museum administrator and poet Joanie DiMartino will lead an informal workshop on writing poems inspired by history and historic artifacts, then write your own poem about the history of Colchester or an artifact in the Museum!

For more information or directions, email administrator@colchesterhistory.org or visit the CHS website.

Upcoming Appearance: Tea & Talk on Militant Suffrage at The Barnum Museum


Alice Paul (seated, far right) and members of the National Woman’s Party strategize over tea. c. 1923.

‘No More Pink Teas:’ The Militant Surge for Woman Suffrage

The 19-teens saw an increase in bold suffrage activity, from large parades in state capitals, such as the one held in Hartford, CT, to picketing the White House. Join Progressive-era suffrage historian Joanie DiMartino to discover how national and CT suffragists participated in a surge of militant political activism that led to women gaining the right to vote in 1920.  A perfect way to celebrate Women’s History Month!

Sunday, March 25, 2018
2 PM; free for members / $7.50 suggested donation for non-members
includes refreshments
Seating is limited; to register click here
Barnum Museum
820 Main Street, Bridgeport, CT

Bidding For Good: Woman Suffrage Talk

I’m pleased to offer my presentation, “‘No More Pink Teas’: The Militant Surge for Woman Suffrage” talk as part of a fundraiser for the Connecticut League of History Organizations (CLHO), an amazing state-wide organization that serves the CT history community.


Alva Belmont’s tea service.

For the link to bid, click here.  The deadline is November 18, 2017.  A description of the talk, which can also be found on another page of my website, follows:

“The 19-teens saw an increase in bold suffrage activity, from large parades in state capitals, such as the one held in Hartford, CT, to picketing the White House.  Join Progressive-era suffrage historian Joanie DiMartino to discover how national and Connecticut suffragists participated in a surge of militant political activism that led to women gaining the right to vote in 1920.

An excellent talk to celebrate Women’s History Month (March), Women’s Equality Day (August 26), voting in November–or any time!”

As for the fine print regarding the auction:

“This talk may include an exhibit of reproduction suffrage memorabilia and/or handouts.  Speaker will travel to your site / public location to present this talk, and will offer suggestions to help you plan the event. This program pairs well with a tea!

This item must be redeemed between March 1 and November 30, 2018.

Speaker will travel within 2 hours / 100 miles driving distance from Mystic, Connecticut.”

If you know a historic site, library, or organization willing to rent a public space to host my talk, please bid–opening bid only $50!–it supports a dynamic league which accomplishes great work throughout the state of CT for large and small museums alike, and my talk is engaging, informative, and marvelous fun!  (And I’ve no doubt the women in the photo below would agree!)


National Woman’s Party taking tea.

Interview & Poems at Poor Yorick Journal

I’m thrilled to announce that I have a lengthy interview and several poems from my “Wood to Skin” manuscript up at Poor Yorick: A Journal of Rediscovered Objects.

Poor Yorick Journal features contemporary literature inspired by rediscovered objects of material culture, so it was a natural fit to send them my poems based on whaling and the Charles W. Morgan, herself an artifact.


Charles W. Morgan under sail, 1920.

The interview, by Kevin Hudson, can be found here.

Three poems also appear in the journal; one directly relates to the Morgan, and was inspired by Mrs. Tinkham’s cabin, a small deck house built for Captain Tinkham’s wife after she suffered repeated bouts of seasickness.  Click here to read the poem.


Mrs. Tinkham’s cabin, recreated.  Photo courtesy of Mystic Seaport.

What makes Poor Yorick Journal unique is that it doesn’t simply post the poems; it also connects readers to the visual art of material culture through photos and images, and offers essays on the artifacts or topics featured in the poems or prose.  This allows readers to discover more in-depth information about the object in history that inspired the writer.  In the case of the particular poem I wrote, Beth Mann offered a footnoted essay on “Sister Sailors,” or captain’s wives who joined their husbands at sea, and what their lives were like aboard a whaler.  I enjoyed Beth’s essay, and you can too, here.

The final two poems of mine in Poor Yorick Journal are taken from a series of ekphrastic vignettes I wrote inspired by early engravings of whaling.


“The Capture of a Whale Off St. Annaland, Holland, Oct. 7, 1682.” From Whale Ships and Whaling: A Pictorial History.

The titles of the poems are taken from the titles of the engravings and images.  The companion poem to the above artwork can be read here.


“[New Bedford from Fairhaven, 1853].” From Whale Ships and Whaling: A Pictorial History.

The engravings can be enlarged and viewed in closer detail on the Poor Yorick Journal website.  They are featured next to each vignette, followed by a short bio.  The above engraving is of New Bedford, the Charles W. Morgan’s original home port, and in my poem I imagine that the vessel in the image is the Morgan herself, as she sailed out of New Bedford in 1853 on her fourth voyage.  Captain Ripley’s son served as cabin boy. This poem can be enjoyed here.

As “Wood to Skin” continues to grow into what I hope is a unique collection of substance, I’m proud to have the support and interest of history-centered literary publications, such as Poor Yorick Journal. 

STRANGE GIRLS available locally!

The circus–and sideshow!–returned to town this summer!

I’m happy to announce that due to my reading there last week, Strange Girls is back in stock at Bank Square Books in Mystic, our local, fiercely independent, bookstore!  I’ve heard from many people who would like to purchase a copy, and I recommend supporting a local business in the process! Nowhere near Mystic?  Don’t worry–Strange Girls is also available on the Bank Square Books website.

Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey may be gone, but the wild sideshows and daredevil circus acts at the turn of the 20th-century can be revisited again and again inside these pages!  On with the show!

Front Cover FINAL


Upcoming Appearance: THIS Thursday, Poetry Reading at Bank Square Books


I will be a featured reader with Glenn Shea and Suzy Lamson at Bank Square Books in Mystic.  Join us!

Bank Square Books
Thursday, June 29th
53 W. Main St., Mystic
6:30 p.m., free
refreshments served

Glenn Shea
Glenn Shea was born and has lived most of his life in Connecticut. He has worked in the library of a cancer clinic and in the French department of a foreign-language bookshop, washed dishes in the Scottish Highlands, gone to pilgrim’s mass in Santiago, and eaten really good tex-mex in Chengdu. He has read his poems in local libraries and shops and at venues in Dublin, Paris and Verona. He works with a group of illuminati in a huge used-book shop in Connecticut. His poetry collections, Find A Place That Could Pass for Home and The Pilgrims of Tombelaine, are published by Salmon Poetry in Ireland.

Suzy Lamson
Waterford resident Suzy Lamson is the author of Red Riding Hood at Sixty and Rose Between Her Teeth. Her poems have appeared in a number of literary journals, including the Connecticut River Review, Caduceus, and The Underwood Review. Several poems were performed by the East Haddam Stage Company. She has been a featured reader in various venues throughout Connecticut, and her poems were part of the Hoxie Gallery’s Painting and Poetry Exhibit in Westerly in September 2005.

Joanie DiMartino
Joanie DiMartino has work published in many literary journals and anthologies, including Modern Haiku, Alimentum, Calyx, and Circe’s Lament: An Anthology of Wild Women. She is the author of two collections of poetry, Licking the Spoon and Strange Girls, and is completing her third manuscript, “Wood to Skin,” about the 19th-century whaling industry, for which she was a 38th Voyager on the Charles W. Morgan. Her work was most recently on display at the Hygienic Art Gallery in New London, CT, where she performed poetry interspersed with whale song as part of the Gaia’s Lament: Art Cry environmental awareness exhibit. DiMartino lives in Mystic, CT with her family and two very literary cats.

Come enjoy a lazy summer evening with chilled wine and poetry!

Wonder Woman, Joan of Arc, & Suffrage

[SPOILER ALERT–You may not want to read this until you’ve seen the movie.]

“Who will I be if I stay?”

Diana, Princess of Themyscira, asks this question of her mother, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, upon leaving her island in this newest retelling of the superhero in Wonder Woman (2017), directed by Patty Jenkins.

While I don’t claim to have a grasp on the full history of the many incarnations and storylines of the comic book character, what I do want to respond to here are the remarkable parallels I found in the latest movie version between the portrayal of Wonder Woman/Diana, and the life of Joan of Arc.


Both Diana and Joan leave sheltered homes to embark on a mission: Diana to rid the world of war by destroying Ares, the Greek God of War; Joan to rid France of the English, by lifting sieges and crowning Charles VII king.  Both of their missions are pre-ordained: as an Amazon, the mythology of Diana’s people is to protect men from the wrath and influence of the God of War.  As a daughter of Zeus, Diana is a Demi-Goddess, which means Ares’ destruction can only be by her hand.

As for Joan,  she embraces the mythology of the Catholic Church, heeding the guidance of St. Michael, St. Margaret, and St. Catherine, who inform her that she “must leave and go to France.  They said I was to go to the Dauphin, to have him crowned.”  Since the charge came from voices and visions, Joan viewed saving France as her destiny.

“These are not for you, Diana.”

Hippolyta reminds her daughter of this more than once in the early part of the movie, when we see a young Diana aching to be trained in her culture’s art of war.  And it is indeed art: there is a precision, a discipline, and a beauty to the warrior, the controlled confidence and strength of a body pushed to limits of physical awareness and self-protection.  Diana is secretly trained by her aunt, Antiope, who sees more clearly Diana’s future, who understands the necessity of making certain Diana can attack and defend in battles that will not waged with honor, that may not be “fair.”

Joan, as a peasant in Domrémy, a tiny village on the eastern outskirts of France, was raised by her mother Isabelle unquestionably with an understanding that the military and weaponry were not for her, that her role in life would be chaste until wife and mother, subservient to the men in her life, and to the church.  Joan’s father had prophetic dreams that his daughter would run off to join the soldiers like a common prostitute, and as Joan testified, “my parents took great care to keep me safely.”

Yet both women responded to the call of a Deity higher than themselves, needing to sever ties with and endure the disappointment of loved ones to follow what they defined as their destinies.

“To the War!”

Diana swiftly announces this upon her arrival in London, determined to not stray from her course of finding and defeating Ares.  To be honest, it wasn’t until this point in the movie that I began to take notice of the distinct similarities between the presentation of Diana’s mission and the history of Joan’s.  In Wonder Woman we see Diana eager to enter battle, her increasing exasperation with standing on the sidelines while others participate in maneuvering the politics surrounding war, and her single-mindedness to get to the Front.  All of this mirrors the actual life experience of Joan, right down to the fixation of her clothing.

What was a life or death situation for Joan, whose choice of clothing took a place of prominence in her interrogation and trial second only to her voices, was played for comic effect in the movie, as Diana proclaims the uselessness of women’s wardrobe styles for fighting while trying on a series of outfits.  There is a constant emphasis that what a woman wears matters.

Whether a real-life warrior in 15th-century France, a mythological Demi-Goddess from an island paradise, or an American teenager in high school, how a woman chooses to clothe herself is still of primary importance to those in positions of power.  Joan can only access the French army dressed as a man, and Diana can only reach the French trenches in the attire of a 1918 woman.  Joan’s masculine attire, Diana’s superhero outfit, render them both indecent in civil society, but both are necessary to leading their form of military campaign.

While mingling with the upper echelon of politicians and/or court society, Joan proves her divine ability to head Charles’ army by interpreting the Dauphin’s prayers.  Diana, already divine, demonstrates the practical application of her knowledge by interpreting human language, in this case the Ottoman and Sumerian code of a poisoner’s diary.

Both interpretive points illustrate the usefulness of what each woman brings to her respective culture; it’s what solidifies the trust that allows them access to the heart of the war.

“But it’s what am going to do!”

Diana determines, contrary to the warnings of the seasoned soldiers, to enter No Man’s Land, after seeing the human cost of war: men gassed, in pain from torn-off limbs, the confusion of what-was-then-termed “shell shock,” and a displaced mother and child.

Frustrated that little is being done to help civilians caught between two opposing armies, Diana responds with the above line, which is followed by the defining scene of the movie–Diana becomes Wonder Woman.  She does so by going “over the top” of the trenches, in a stunning and studied series of movements, that begins with her releasing her hair from the bun it has been swept up in since she garbed herself in “women’s clothes,” and then the shedding of those clothes, so that when we view her, climbing up the ladder to No Man’s Land, she is fully Amazonian, a complete and confident warrior, and she takes on the German army’s bullets alone, pushing forward and shielding machine-gun fire so that others can approach and destroy the enemy.  The nearby village rescued, there is celebration.

Once again, sitting in the dark theater, watching Diana reach up to the back of her head to undo her hair, I could not help but think of Joan, whose own transformation into a warrior also began with her hair.  But for Joan it was the cutting, not the releasing of her locks, that defined her metamorphosis into La Pucelle.  Surrounded by the French army, Joan needed to downplay her womanhood, her sexuality.  Diana, on the other hand, as a Demi-Goddess in fear of no man, owns herself completely, so the style of her hair shouldn’t matter as she raged into battle.  Then why, I wondered, watching Diana charge with a shield across an open decimated field toward enemy fire as Joan once did holding a fleur-de-lys standard, was Diana’s hair unleashed, if the scene wasn’t an acknowledgement in a purposeful contrast, a reverse homage, to Joan?

“The King of Heaven orders you and commands you through me, Joan the Pucelle, the abandon your strongholds and go back to your country.  If not, I will make a war cry that will be remembered forever.”  Joan sent these words to the English sieging the town of Orléans.  Joan was familiar with the human cost of siege.  Starving, townspeople would often resort to eating rats, and banishing the old, ill, and orphans from inside the walls of the town to fend for themselves.  It was a cruel form of torture in warfare, and Joan was determined to lift the Orléans siege.  When she did so, there were celebrations; the English began to fear, and the French to hope.

“Do you believe her?”

After saving the village, Diana heads off on horseback (again, reminiscent of Joan, who rode with the French cavalry) with a small band of spies and smugglers, one of which, upon hearing the amazing story of Diana’s task from her love interest, asks the above question when Diana is out of earshot.  Not a question of trust, not a question of truth, but one of belief.  And once again, in the theater, I can’t help but equate this to Joan, to the small band of soldiers who continued to follow her on campaigns well-after the king she helped to crown abandoned her.  Their loyalty to Joan was based on belief–on the belief that her quest was holy, that she was sent from God, that she was divine.

Joan burned.  Not as a witch (the diabolical connections came after her death, in an attempt to discredit the French king), but as a heretic, who claimed her own sovereign relation to God, who knew a deeper understanding of her deity more than the robed men of the church.  She went to the stake in 1431.

It is now 2017, and women are still punished for claiming the divine within themselves, for taking on the role of destroyer as well as creator, for wanting to end war.  However, it is not Diana herself who is burned, but rather, her love interest.  Steve Trevor makes a choice, embraces a hero’s death, and although one could argue (as many have) that it was a better creative decision to send him off in this fashion, rather than have him age and her not–still, within the context of the story, the powerful woman must endure fire, must endure loss, and it must be painful.


The suffrage movement embraced Joan of Arc as its patron saint.  Joan represented the “new woman.” She challenged stereotypes and expectations of women, stood up to the most powerful institution of her time, the Catholic Church, and led men into battle. Clearly, she was the perfect symbol for women standing up to the American government, demanding their own voice, their own vote.

 In the 1913 parade organized by Alice Paul, Inez Milholland portrayed a suffrage herald, leading women “out of darkness, forward into light” a role that was openly acknowledged as influenced by Joan of Arc.  Inez wore a tiara, “something suggesting the free woman of the future, crowned by the star of hope…” (Alice Paul in a letter to Inez Milholland, February 12, 1913).  And it was this tiara, suggested by Alice Paul and worn by a suffragist leading a parade that shocked the nation for the way women claimed the streets like they never had before, that inspired the one worn by Wonder Woman.

Setting the 2017 movie in World War I, rather than World War II, when Wonder Woman first appeared on the comic book scene, makes sense in the continuity of women’s history: from the suffrage movement, to Wonder Woman’s creation, through the Second Wave of feminism when Wonder Woman graced the cover of the first Ms. Magazine in 1972, to the She Persisted Resistance now.  It also returns us, as the audience, to the height of the Progressive Era, when suffrage was coming to fruition as the 19th Amendment, and the first World War was raging across Europe.  It was feared that had women been able to vote, they would not have voted to enter the war, as Representative Jeanette Rankin was made painfully aware of when she lost her House seat due to her “no” vote.  Afterwards, Rankin said, in a line that would make Diana Prince proud, “I felt the first time the first woman had a chance to say no to war, she should say it.”  Like Diana, Princess of Themyscira, Rankin, a Congresswoman and a suffragist, viewed her role as vital to saying no to war.  Which brings us full circle: bringing Wonder Woman back to suffrage serves to underscore my argument that the 2017 movie is a subtle homage to Joan.


Joan of Arc, miniature, c. 1450-1500. Archives Nationales, France. Unknown.

Women lost Joan of Arc in 1920, the same year women won the right to vote.  This was significant; at the height of women’s political power to date, their strongest role model is deemed no longer human: her larger-than-life accomplishments are no longer attainable to other women to serve as inspiration; rather, they are the obvious result of Joan being Divine.  Joan didn’t break barriers as a woman, claimed the Catholic Church, she fulfilled her destiny as a Saint.  Therefore, the church, by conferring sainthood to La Pucelle, declared that women, meaning mere human women, could not ever be like Joan.

Diana ends a great war due to her divinity, Joan changes the course of a war lasting nearly a century, and is later named divine.  And the church certainly took its time coming around to that determination.  The trial which condemned Joan was nullified in 1456, yet she isn’t canonized until 1920, when her story has not only been revived, but used to illustrate what women can become: they can lead armies, they can send enemies scurrying back to their homelands and produce an armistice–they can crown kings.


Historian Jill Lepore has argued on NPR that the new Wonder Woman movie renders invisible the fights raised a century ago.  I respectfully disagree.  This movie not only connects to women’s issues from a century ago, but from five centuries ago.  I am struck by the similarities of the movie poster to one of the earliest artistic portrayals of Joan. Just in a cursory comparison one notes the same bold orange-yellow colors, the direction each woman is facing, the armor, and the standard/shield in a secondary position to the sword.  I believe the new Wonder Woman movie returns to women the story of Joan of Arc: a new mythology of Joan as supreme warrior, as both divine AND human, as a success.  Joan without the stake.

Remembering President Obama’s Visit to the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument

He said her name.  In April of 2016, President Barack Obama said “Alice Paul.”  He was probably the first American President to do so publicly since Gerald Ford, and with more respect than Woodrow Wilson ever did.  And it brought tears to my eyes.


President Obama dedicates the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument, April 12, 2016.

During his speeches, President Obama also often listed “Women reaching for the ballot,” as one of the many progressive movements in history that brought equality and justice to half the nation’s citizens.  When the President appeared at the Hillary Clinton rally in New Hampshire , I cheered–the lone voice to do so–when he spoke this line.


President Obama reads about the English roots of the militant suffrage movement in the United States, as Page Harrington, Director of the National Woman’s Party, looks on.

Tonight, this is how I want to remember his Presidency, as the first President to put  the suffrage movement into the fabric of national history and memory when he said Alice Paul’s name and added the headquarters of the National Woman’s Party to the many sites managed by the National Park Service.  No President before Obama ever toured the museum, or appreciated its value to American women and our cultural identity.


President Obama touring the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument.

This museum both celebrates and honors the hard work of suffragists and feminists to win the vote & to write and fight for the Equal Rights Amendment.  The HERstory within these walls inspires us now to continue to reach for equality, using the tool so dearly won by women nearly a century ago–yet these were women who knew the vote was just a beginning.  Tonight, we remember a President who respected American women enough to honor the struggles of the suffragists.  Tomorrow, we will remember their strategies to actively engage in democracy, to seek justice and equal rights, to march Forward, Into Light.


Click here to watch President Obama tour the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument.

Even better, the next time you visit Washington, D. C., stop by and take a tour!    Click here or here to learn more about the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument or the National Woman’s Party and plan your visit.