I WORE MY wedding dress to march next to Florence Kelley at the Women’s Suffrage Parade that autumn. I also wore white spats and a white tricorn hat, carrying a banner I’d written, which read, Feminism Means Revolution and I’m a Revolutionist. Other states had already granted women the right to vote. New York ought to be next. To convince our fellow citizens, we’d arranged this absolute spectacle. Forty thousand of us marched the parade route, carrying flowers and flags, holding hands in solidarity, and lifting our voices to the heavens in song.
