#wars has adsd in this one

[zarvasace]

No pressure, but if you want to, Wars getting stuck in a place where no one can understand his signing in the disability au?

this got out of hand I'm sorry I hope you like it

supposed to be seen, supposed to be heard

Gen, 4k words, Warriors-focused. Others are there but at the end. A little angst, but ends on a good note. AO3 link here!

It hurts, a little. He's the captain, the Hero launched into fame, the face of the entire war. Sometimes going into towns in other eras feels like a step backwards, like he's fallen down the steep slope he's been climbing.

Like sliding down a steep slope, barely controlled, with dirt shifting and rolling under his boots, Warriors feels time itself move around him. He's grown accustomed to the feeling, much as he dislikes it. He resists calling out, and reaches for the person nearest—it's Twilight, this time—but feels his fingers close on nothing but the detritus of the timestream. 

He feels weightless, nothing on him or around him. Air slips into his lungs like silk. It barely seems to exist, and briefly, Warriors can't get enough. 

The fall stops, and discarded equipment rolls around Warriors's feet as he tries to regain his balance. His stomach stops a moment after he does, twisting and churning in currents that make him a little nauseous. He stands on unfamiliar rocks, at the bottom of mountains he doesn't particularly recognize. That's not unusual, though. He barely recognizes his own mountains, for all that he's been staring at them his whole life. 

Warriors puts a hand on his sword hilt and turns in a circle, looking for any immediate threats. Upon seeing that he's alone over here, he lets his hand fall, though his guard stays up. No monsters appear to be aiming to make him their next meal, but there are no brothers to share the burden of observation with, either. 

He crouches with his knees rather than bending with his back to pick up the things that fell through the portal with him. Luckily, he has his own pack, with everything but his shield. That's all right, though, he can use Twilight's until they meet back up. They've found that all their equipment comes through portals, but usually with whoever they're closest to at the time, not necessarily who it all belongs to. Warriors has Legend's broken cane and one of Wild's jars of lotion, too. He twists the top off to see which kind—oh, yep, definitely a hot one. It smells like peppers and lava. The light burn scars on Warriors's hand almost seem to tingle at the smell. 

After stashing away what he can, Warriors slings Twilight's shield on his back and looks around a bit better. He doesn't… he doesn't see a castle. Odd. That's usually the meetup spot, since it's pretty obvious in every era except for Wind's and Sky's. This isn't Wind's time, though Warriors can see the sea off past the fog, and it isn't Sky's, since there are definitely towns down there. He wonders if the castle is just hidden, somehow. Hyrule’s world has multiple castles, and none of them are in obvious places. Perhaps it’s something like that, here.

Well, nothing would happen if he just sat there frowning. Warriors picks what he hopes is the best path down to the valley and starts down, one step at a time.

It feels a little strange to be alone. Warriors has always had some sort of battalion at his back, soldiers or brothers, or at the very least, a fairy. He misses Proxi something awful. Her help translating his signs aloud had been essential once he'd stopped speaking entirely, before anyone else knew the language. She'd always been just the right combination of scolding and comforting, too. He could probably use a little bit of both at the moment. 

The voices and noise drift to Warriors on the wind, so he hears the wagons long before he sees them. He finds a conveniently large boulder to hide behind as the group rattles around the bend—four large, colorful wagons pulled by horses. Warriors watches for a moment, counting perhaps eight men, five women, and one boy learning to drive the wagons. Lucky for him, the horses aren't too temperamental. They're big animals, with long hair and hooves the size of the boy's head. 

One of the men walks alongside the front wagon where the boy is, one painted with pinks and greens and flowers, making comments about driving. A sturdy woman drives the second big wagon, leaning back and chewing on a piece of wheat. A man plucking a guitar's strings sits next to her, in front of a stylized painting of a sun. It looks like the third wagon is painted with an autumn theme, and the fourth is covered in the delicate blues of winter. Quaint. 

There may be more people in the wagons, Warriors thinks, but he has no way of knowing. The rest of the people he can see mill about the wagons, staying clear of the wheels and the animals. A few have instruments, like the two young women playing some sort of game involving chasing each other and smacking the side of a wagon with the tambourines they held. They're pretty girls. 

Well, this troupe doesn't seem like a threat. Warriors has been known to be burned by assumptions like that before, but he decides to go with his gut this time. He steps out from behind the boulder and watches the spring wagon pass. 

One of the more energetic women spots him first, a redhead with a sultry aura and a form-fitting pink costume. She calls out to him—"Link!"—and smiles with white teeth when he looks over on reflex. In a matter of seconds, she has his hands in hers, the tambourine girls have begun a complex rhythm, and the redhead is pulling him out onto the road.

"Dance with me," she demands, and what can Warriors do but smile back at her and do his best? 

He doesn't really know the dance, but the woman doesn't stumble as she pulls him around and around, between wagons. Someone laughs at them, and the tambourines grow louder and softer. A woman pulls out a flute to accompany the tambourines, and Warriors can hear the guitar start up. His feet move like they're possessed. 

"You've forgotten the steps," the woman says, her voice clear but quiet beneath the impromptu music. She looks a little sad. Warriors wants to tell her that he never knew them to begin with, that he's not the Link she probably knows, but there's no time to let go of her hands, or to even try to speak. He just laughs and tries his best to step in time with the rattling tambourines. 

Warriors keeps to his toes, and the impacts of his feet shudder his bones. His veins pulse with the guitar strings, and his breath follows the flute. It's heady, a sort of intoxication that Warriors hasn't really tasted before. The dances he's familiar with have a similar way of holding hands, but they're more structured and less… well. This dance is like a fire. It spreads, spurring more people on to join them.

"Ah, so you aren't the Hero I know," the woman says as the dance brings them close together again. She doesn't seem upset, at least. "Still. You're doing a wonderful job."

Warriors's next try at spinning her includes a sweep of his arm that could be interpreted as a thank you sign. 

The dance does have to stop at some point. It slows, and people laugh as they return to walking. Warriors gasps for air, losing it just as fast in short laughs. He bows to the woman who'd dragged him into this, and she bows extravagantly back. Her hair is too red to be truly natural, but it fits her sharp expression. 

"Well, I'm impressed, stranger," she says, fiddling around with her golden jewelry. The wagons continue to move, and she walks with them. Warriors follows. "Or perhaps not quite a stranger, hm? Where did you come from? It's a long way to the nearest town." 

Warriors hesitates. Perhaps… He raises his hands to sign. 'What is your Link like?' he asks. 

The woman gives him the Look, the one that's caught between confusion and apology. It tells him that she knows that signs can be a language, but that she doesn't know it, herself. She doesn't call for anyone, either, which means that there's a good chance nobody in this troupe knows sign language. 

He nods to himself, then pulls his bag around to his front to rummage inside. He knows he has a notebook in here somewhere… 

"What's wrong?" someone asks the woman, whose face has turned a bit redder to match her hair. 

She shrugs. "I don't think he can hear."

Warriors sighs and glances up, but doesn't catch anyone's eyes to tell them that yes, he heard it. He emerges triumphant from his bag with a notebook and a pencil (that he should really sharpen, how had he been letting it get so dull?) that he immediately uses to write a note. He uses good handwriting, instead of his usual scrawl, then offers the book over to the woman. 

I can hear, I just have trouble speaking. You can call me Wars, I'm a bit lost. I'm looking for Hyrule Castle. 

The woman squints at the writing, and for one heart-stopping moment, Warriors thinks that she can't read it. 

But she nods, and looks up at him. "Oh, that makes sense. Hey, Wars, nice to meet ya. I'm Din." 

Warriors blinks at her, and his question must be clear on his face, because she smiles again and hands the notebook back. 

"I'm not the goddess, no. I'm just her oracle. So, you're on your way to Hyrule Castle?" 

He takes the notebook and keeps it ready, but he doesn't have to use it for a simple question like this. He nods in confirmation.

She snorts. "Well, then you've gotten real turned around, pretty boy. The castle's a couple days away, at the least. We're headed to the Hyrule border, though, you're welcome to join us until then. Strength in numbers, all that."

They aren't in Hyrule? Warriors rubs at his chin in thought. This oracle seems friendly. Warriors knows that none of the goddesses are actually evil, even the one whose champion usually turns out to be. He doesn't feel unsafe walking next to her, though being in such a large, untrusted group makes his neck itch. Still. He's in an unfamiliar land. 

He writes another note. I'd appreciate that. I can pay you for your troubles, and contribute to any manual labor or guard duty. He pauses, then adds a little more. Your Link wouldn't happen to have pink in his hair and a prickly attitude, would he? 

Din takes a moment to parse through his words, nodding along. "Sounds like you know the brat." At his nod and rolled eyes, she smiles her sharp smile and continues. "Come on, let's introduce you to Jovan, since you'll be here for a little while." 

---

Jovan is an affable man, a bit pushy, but every good leader needs to be a little annoying. He's all too happy to accept Warriors's help with guard duty. When they stop for the evening, Jovan's son Rishu scrambles out of the wagon driver's seat to show Warriors his swordplay. 

Warriors can tell that the boy learned a little from Legend. He can't exactly tell him what to change, but Warriors does his best to correct Rishu's feet and show him how to swing for more control. He's not sure the lessons get across very well, but he tries.

A few more kids crowd around as the adults start to make dinner, dying for sword lessons, too. Their parents shrug at Warriors as if to say that he's welcome to entertain them for as long as he can. He's not exactly a child whisperer, and he can't lecture them without a clear voice—oh, how he wishes he weren't alone—but once again, he tries. He steals some sticks from the path and puts them in the children's hands, adjusting their small fingers and helping them hold the sticks straight out as if they were swords. 

When one of the little girls asks why he doesn't speak, Warriors taps his throat. It doesn't give any kind of answer, but at least one of the kids thinks it does, and they start to concoct a story about how he sailed across the sea to rescue his true love. He doesn't quite hear the entire story, but he gets the gist—there were sea monsters on his journey, and an underwater Zora witch who took his voice, and now his true love is in Hyrule for some reason. He seems to be a good distraction, though. It's a bit overwhelming, but the kids stay with him until the adults call them over for dinner and for bed. 

As it turns out, nobody but Din the dancer can read Warriors's writing. Apparently his language is just different enough that it doesn't translate to whatever these people can read. With Din distracted by musicians and rehearsals, Warriors is left without a way to communicate, short of charades or pictures drawn. That can get battle plans across sufficiently, at least to soldiers who know the symbols he uses, but it's useless for contributing to conversations. 

The troupe asks him a lot of questions, at first, but his answers don't satisfy, and they have to redirect their attention. Laughter ebbs and flows around the few campfires like the ocean, and voices twist around the music practice like leaves on the wind. It's comfortable, but loneliness presses up against Warriors's heart like it hasn't in months, all the stronger for its long absence. 

Even if he tried to speak, Warriors doesn't think anyone would understand him. He knows that it takes effort and practice to hear past the shaking gravel in his voice. Knowing that he can't communicate, even if he tried, is worse than just pretending that he's keeping silent on purpose. He doesn't have a choice. The laughter muffles in his ears, and Warriors's smile becomes harder and harder to prop up when someone looks over at him. He can feel the black hole of involuntary alienation pulling his posture down, down, down. 

Instead of giving in, Warriors stands up and leaves the friendly warmth to relieve the guard sitting up against a barrel. He's an older man, and not paying much attention as a guard ought to. He takes Warriors's silent offer of a relief far too easily, but Warriors isn't too mad about it. They're just a group of performers, after all, and he doubts a guard is really necessary. From the way that oracle spoke, she could take things in hand if she needed to. 

Still, it's nice to feel useful. Watch duty is something Warriors knows how to do. He physically taps his chest to dispel the black static there, the hollowness in his shoulders that threatens to put tears in his eyes. It works. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that the voices behind him belong to his brothers. But closing his eyes is not watching, so he leaves them open.

He faces the valley, with the wagons stopped just off of the road and in the shadow of the mountain. The sun dropped behind the range long ago, and the moon casts her early blue light over everything Warriors can see. It's quite lovely, actually, the way the lights in villages sparkle like a reflection of the stars. 

Warriors turns to the mountain to look it over, his eyes trained to spot irregularities and moving silhouettes. He doesn't see any, which is a good sign. He still makes a lap around the exterior of the wagons, mentally marking a perimeter. Lanterns hanging outside the wagons glow softly, quieter than the campfires. A few insects buzz around them. Warriors's boots make crunching noises on the rough dirt, but he's quiet enough that nobody really notices him. 

It hurts, a little. He's the captain, the Hero launched into fame, the face of the entire war. The popularity of sign language grew exponentially because of him, making the world just a bit easier on him and the many other people who preferred to communicate with their hands rather than their voices. Sometimes going into towns in other eras feels like a step backwards, like he's fallen down the steep slope he's been climbing.

The others, though… they understand him, most of the time, and Sky even speaks up for him. He knows they value his opinions and thoughts, knows it through hard-won confidence from dozens of reassurances from all his brothers, who actually noticed that he's prone to feeling ignored and overlooked. 

He's supposed to be seen, and he's supposed to be heard, so his chest aches a bit when he isn't. 

Warriors makes it back to his original spot overlooking the valley, and stops there. It's a bit elevated from the rest of the camp, so he feels pretty comfortable staying there to watch. He doesn't think the troupe has much in the way of a formalized watch rotation, but one of the women comes over to tell him to wake her up in a few hours, so he won't push himself too far making sure they're safe. 

As the last fires retreat into embers, sleeping as much as their tenders, Warriors pulls out his ledger to review. The moon lights the pages enough to read. He already has so much trouble keeping track of the Chain's inventory and maintenance needs, it's going to be awful trying to catch back up. He wishes he had Wind's pirate charm to at least see the others and know where they are. Just because he was dropped in a peaceful place doesn't mean they were. He'll be upset if someone manages to suffer an injury due to snagged chain mail because he wasn't around to nag them into repairing it. 

Sometimes, yes, Warriors does wish the Chain acted more like an organized group of soldiers. They need to learn to report truthfully and thoroughly, to follow orders, to keep clean and organized. But at the same time, it's that lack of following orders and doing things their own way that makes them so effective as Heroes. He likes them just the way they are, really. He also likes keeping track of things. The ledgers and calendars and maintenance logs help him feel like he's contributing, and that this crazy adventure of theirs has some form of structure. 

Warriors slides the ledger back into his bag and makes sure everything he needs is still in there. The only things that don't exactly belong are Wild's lotion and Legend's cane. Sky was planning on repairing it; Four had an idea about paper mulch and glued wood that Sky seemed excited to try. Warriors smiles to himself and sits back. He hopes the others are okay, but there's not much he can do about it until he finds them again. Knowing them, they will be. 

---

It doesn't take long to find them, in the end. The portals never dropped them off too far from each other, thankfully, though Warriors thinks that this may be one of the greater distances. He'll need to record that. Records are essential to making predictions, and thus, making plans. 

He's busy helping to tie down a tarp over the autumn wagon, as the sky has darkened with slate-blue clouds that hang heavy with rain, when he hears voices near the front of the group. 

"—don't happen to have seen a blond idiot with armor and a blue scarf, have you?" 

Warriors smiles, but it looks like Din heard that voice at the same time he did. She perks up from near the summer wagon, and smacks the guitarist on the shoulder as she runs past. He dutifully starts up a tune, and Din drags another Link into a dance with nothing more than a demand. 

"Dance with me!" 

"Din! Wait, there's not even any mus—oh." Legend comes into sight, around the side of the spring wagon, with Din clutching his arm and dragging him into the dance. The tambourines start up again, and this time, so does a set of drums hanging out of the winter wagon, played by a very enthusiastic, talented teenage girl. 

Warriors watches for a moment, concerned for Legend, but it looks like it's a good day for him. Legend seems a bit hesitant, but his eyes widen when he notices Warriors peeking up over the autumn wagon. Din pulls Legend around, and since they're stopped, more people begin to join the music or the dance. Legend relaxes, and when the entire rest of the Chain comes to investigate, he manages to drag them into the dance, too.

It's far more chaotic than that first one Warriors participated in yesterday. Legend knows the dance, but none of the others do. Warriors doesn't know it, either, but he runs up to grab Hyrule's hands before the poor kid can throw himself or someone else off the cliff on accident. The chorus of greetings he gets as they notice him—"Wars!" "Warriors, we found you!" "You okay?" "You're okay!" "We were worried!"—fills up that hollow bit in his heart nicely. He laughs and spins Hyrule around, careful to keep them well away from hitting anyone. 

Four parks off to the side before very long, and Warriors briefly considers going to check on him. But he knows that Four really is the sort of person to enjoy watching more than participating. He's over there laughing as Din launches into an acrobatic maneuver that Legend shouts at her for, but he flows along with it like he's done it a million times before. Warriors foresees some sharp complaining about joint pain tonight, but Legend can make his own choices. 

Twilight gives up on trying to follow the dance and starts doing one of his own. Wind somehow ends up on Twilight's shoulders, laughing and occasionally kneeing Twilight in the face on accident. One of the tambourine girls takes it upon herself to personally show Wild a bit of the dance. She's definitely flirting, and Warriors isn't sure if Wild realizes it, but he's definitely flirting back. Time appears to sort of know what's going on, and Sky just looks delighted anytime he finds himself near someone playing an instrument. 

This dance is objectively worse than the first one Warriors participated in with the troupe, full of missteps and overbalancing and a few discordant chords. But there's more music, more good-natured cursing, and Warriors isn't alone. He misses a lot of cues hauling Hyrule around, but Hyrule laughs with abandon every time Warriors spins him around. 

The drums echo off of the rocks. Time takes a shot playing with the musicians, using an ocarina that Warriors hasn't seen before. Twilight almost drops Wind. Four picks up singing the predictable chorus of one of the songs, his voice not bad. 

The rain breaks them up, but not before everyone gets soaked. 

---

Later, Warriors rants a bit to Sky at a speed nobody else can follow, and gets some very validating empathy. Sky admits to feeling the same way, sometimes. Warriors is willing to bet that they all do, one way or another. 

If everyone's greetings filled up that dark space in Warriors's heart, then Wind's tight hug and Legend's casual elbow on his shoulder overflow that space until it heats his fingers and his toes. Wild makes Warriors's favorite tea—he makes everyone's favorite teas or cocoas, for the rainy day, but it strikes Warriors deeply that Wild didn't just notice which he liked, but made it just for him. 

In the absence of anything else to do, Four and Sky start on repairing Legend's spare cane. Wild is glad to get his jar of warm lotion back, and makes sure that Legend gets some, after all the dancing they'd done. Twilight and Warriors switch shields and compare notes on weights and shapes. Warriors catches up with whatever inventorying he has left to do. 

He's very, very glad he's not alone on this adventure.

#my writing #linked universe #lu warriors #disability au #wars has adsd in this one #so speaking is hard but he can laugh and sometimes yell

[jewishmuseumldn]

Radical Women

by Miriam Phelan, Assistant Curator

As part of International Women’s Day 2017 the Jewish Museum London has a display of 10 portraits of Radical Jewish Women who have made significant contributions to the fields of science, culture, sports, literature and politics. 

International Women's Day is often associated with the beginning of the Russian Revolution in 1917 but it is also believed to have started in New York in 1909 when the Socialist Party of America organised a day to commemorate the 1908 strike of women garment workers against their working conditions. 

Inspired by the actions of these American women, in 1910 over 100 women from 17 different countries met at a conference in Copenhagen to establish a day to honour the achievements of women and pledge support for the women's suffrage movement.  

Today International Women’s Day celebrates women’s social, cultural, economic and political achievements and promotes the need for gender equality around the world. In many countries International Women’s day is observed as a national holiday and is seen globally as an opportunity to bring the achievements of women to the fore. 

This year the theme for International Women's Day is Be Bold For Change, encouraging people around the world to take bold action against inequality, against violence, to celebrate women's achievements and to champion women’s education. 

The display of Radical Women in our café shows how taking bold action can have a lasting impact on society for future generations. An action is made radical by the fact that it fundamentally changes the nature of something, and the radical actions of these women opened up opportunities for women that have had a dramatic impact on the position of women in society.

Obviously what is considered radical is often defined by the time in which we live, but the actions of these women in the late 19th and early 20th century still seem quite radical today.

Milly Witkop, circa 1920 

Jewish women throughout history have made radical changes to British society, but many of their stories have been overlooked, forgotten or obscured by the achievements of men and many women have been effectively written out of history. This display therefore tells the stories of these women without reference to the men in their lives. One exception to this rule is Milly Witkop and her partner Rudolf Rocker, their radical activism was the result of an equal partnership. Side by side they built the anarchist and trade union movements amongst Jewish immigrants in London.

As a rule history does not define a man’s achievement in terms of his female peers or relatives and the same rule should be applied to women. Often women are referred to as ‘the wife of’, ‘the sister of’ or ‘the daughter of’ and this is something that needs to be addressed. 

Museums are also guilty of historically focusing on collecting and exhibiting the stories of prominent men, and the Jewish Museum is no exception. However this is an issue that we are beginning to address with exhibitions such as the Judith Kerr and Amy Winehouse exhibitions and the Radical Women café display. 

We are also thinking more about how we can collect objects and stories that reflect the position and influence of women in British Jewish history. Exhibitions such as this display show that cultural organisations, like the Jewish Museum, are starting to redress the gender balance.

Jewish women have always been part of the fight for gender equality and the café display shows how the radical actions of these women have impacted our lives today. Covering about 100 years from the 1860s to the 1960s this is just one chapter in history that shows how the social, cultural, economic and political efforts of women have been left out of popular histories, or overlooked in favour of their male peers.

Eleanor Marx, 1871 (AdsD/Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung)

For example the first thing that we read about Eleanor Marx is that she was the daughter of Karl Marx, immediately overshadowing her own achievements with those of her father. However, Eleanor Marx was a prominent social activist in her own right and as well as her involvement in the socialist party in the UK and the Women’s Trade Union League, Marx was also passionate about promoting feminist thought and gender equality believing that both men and women were oppressed by patriarchy.

Krystyna Skarbek, 1944 (AP/REX/Shutterstock)

Krystyna Skarbek’s work as an intelligence agent during the Second World War is also often coupled with the popular opinion that she was the inspiration for Ian Fleming's first ever Bond girl in Casino Royale in 1953, in a way trivialising her brave achievements by associating them with fictional novels and a famously misogynistic British Secret Service agent. Skarbek was awarded the George Medal for her intelligence missions in France in 1944, an OBE in 1947 and was one of Britain’s longest serving female intelligence agents.  

Some of these women have also played a key role in advancing the position of women in Judaism. Amy Levy who was the first Jewish woman to attend Newnham College Cambridge in 1879 and she used her education to challenge the Jewish community’s expectations of women and promoted the fact that she was living an unconventional life while still considering herself Jewish. 

Lily Montagu, 1943

Lily Montagu was also a key player in advancing Liberal Judaism in Britain. She was famed for her dynamic leadership and became President of the World Union for Progressive Judaism in 1955 and was named Honorary Life President until her death in 1963. Nina Salaman also became the first women to preach in an orthodox synagogue in Britain. She was an influential suffragette and campaigned for women’s right to vote and to improve the status of women in the Jewish community, including the right of women seat-holders to vote in synagogue elections.

Many of the women in this display were active supporters of the women's suffrage movement. The Jewish League for Women's Suffrage was founded in 1912 and was the first Jewish women's organisation in the world. Painter Lily Delissa Joseph was a devoted suffragette who famously missed the private view of her own exhibition in the Baillie Gallery in London in 1912 as she was detained in Holloway Gaol for her involvement with the Women’s Suffrage Movement. 

Minnie Lansbury, 1921 (Tower Hamlets Library and Archives)

Minnie Lansbury, another prominent suffragette and political activist, was elected Alderman on Poplar’s first Labour council in 1919, and is pictured above after her arrest in 1921 for protesting against the treatment of the poor in her constituency. Lansbury was also an active member of the East London Federation of Suffragettes and the Workers' Suffrage Federation. However as a result of her imprisonment, she developed pneumonia and died in 1922.

Jewish women have also made radical advancements in the field of sports and science. Sheila Van Damm originally trained as a driver in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force and then as a pilot for the RAF and went on to win many of the most prestigious races of the day including the Coupe de Dame in the 1953 Alpine Rally, which was the highest award for women in motor racing at the time.

Sheila Van Damm, circa 1950s

Rosalind Franklin made huge contributions to our understanding of the molecular structures of DNA despite working in the male dominated world of the sciences in the 1950s. Franklin was a chemist and X-ray crystallographer whose research paved the way for the discovery of the DNA double helix. Although Franklin died before finishing her research on the structure of DNA, many believe that the Nobel Prize in chemistry jointly awarded to her colleagues, James Watson, Francis Crick and Maurice Wilkins, should also have been posthumously awarded to Franklin, a provision not allowed for by the Nobel Prize committee. 

The stories of these women give just a brief insight into the history of Jewish women who have made radical changes to British society far beyond the time they were living. This display and the Amy Winehouse exhibition can be seen as part of the effort that we are making here at the Jewish Museum to write women back into history.

#international women's day #iwd2017 #feminism #radical women #women #curatorial