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The Female Rogue:
A Memoir of Living Fiercely
My book was inspired by hundreds of female eyes, locked in oil and clay, that latched onto my body as I wandered the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy. Frozen in frames and on pedestals as virgins and victims, the female eyes were scattered among a sea of images of male kings, conquerors and gods. The intense female gaze ignited a full-blown panic attack in my body. Two months later, a dream shook me awake with a question as insistent as the female eyes: Where is my rogue? In my dream I searched, unsuccessfully, for my rogue along New York sidewalks and Montana meadows. My dream assured me rogue was not to be found in the outside world but inside of my body eager to spring to life with agency and power.
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