I don't mind a dirty girl. But what I find tragic is when we, as women, become not the subject of our own story but someone else's object.
My father was strict, but he recognised my ability and got a lot of flak from the church for supporting me.
I usually get myself into situations that cause sparks. I mean I'm a girl that likes the storms. I love feeling alive, I love walking out in the cold in my bare feet and feeling the ice on my toes.
I remember driving to North Carolina when I was a little girl in a snowstorm to get down to my mom's family in the Carolinas. There were chains on the car - it was the late sixties - and we were just singing in the car. Christmas carols.