Jane Devin

In ancient Italy, extracts of belladonna were used by women in the form of cosmetic eye drops, which dilated their pupils and gave their eyes a bright, glistening appearance. Large pupils were thought to be a sign of feminine beauty, hence the name Belladonna for “beautiful woman.”

They are always beautiful, the Belladonna women, if not in the classical sense, then in some unusual and overstated way. Like an electric light show in a darkened theater, a Belladonna woman charges the atmosphere around her, flashing her eccentric style and rare form to the amazement of a populace unwittingly numbed by everyday plainness. Visually stimulating, the Belladonna woman is also magnetic, capable of drawing an individual of interest or even a large crowd around them with barely any effort at all.

Incapable of mediocrity in appearance or attitude, even on those rare occasions when they try to blend in, a Belladonna woman rarely escapes notice – or the judgment of others. While most will find her colorful demeanor intriguing, some will feel a need to shut her down – to gray wash her with some sort of damnation. They will decry the falseness of her palette, the way she pridefully carries her individuality, and they will reject her for vanity or difference.

In response, the Belladonna woman will brighten her colors, stand taller, and narrow her beautiful eyes. Unlike the male Narcissus, she will avoid the sword of judgment. She sees her own beauty not as a source of shame or folly, but of personal power, a feeling which she nurtures as a source strength and confidence. Shunning didactic mythology, the Belladonna woman refuses to be the moral to anyone’s story, including her own. Morals are for the rugged, the religious, or the simple. Instead, the Belladonna woman will have her own set of refined juggernaut scruples, which she may reorder from time to time, but they will always be strongly held and forcefully applied.

Yet, for all of her seeming strength and confidence, a Belladonna woman is easily hurt. Whether her vulnerability comes from a place of ego or heart is often debated, even by those who know her best. They wonder about the duality of her occasionally fragile spirit and her unbreakable pride. They may wonder for a lifetime, because the Belladonna woman always leaves mystery – and so many other things – in her wake.

All parts of the true belladonna are narcotic.

Like a siren’s call, the Belladonna woman is hard to resist. She has a lyrical quality about her, a deep vein of emotion and truthfulness that rises above the daily din. The emotions will be her own, as will the truths – and either may be shaded by incongruent hues – but the way she sings them will make true believers even out of jaded skeptics.

Many are content to sway to her song from a distance, whereas other will feel a need to serve her in some capacity. The Belladonna woman, however,  will reject most people who seek her out. She is selective, and her choices are predicated upon her needs or desires at any given time.

The call of a Belladonna woman who accepts someone into her inner circle is not the call of a mere friend or lover, but of a female monarch. To enter her court, whether it’s a rundown apartment in the city, or a gleaming skyscraper, one must have something of value and worthy of royalty’s favor.   Once they are in, she may not ask them for their biggest gifts, but she will expect them as her due. Putting the Belladonna woman in the position of having to ask for anything will set off a surge of distrust and unease in her, since she feels that those who love her should anticipate her needs and understand her desires.  If they do not, and fail to learn quickly enough, the Belladonna woman’s song will turn into a metaphorical call of “off, off with their heads.” To fail her is to show incompetence, and she will not suffer the blunders of others for long. She is a woman whose sense of self is very much reflected in her environment. She cannot feel as confident and secure when those who serve her, her rooks and knights and pawns, are clumsy and inadequate.

It would be easy to call her a bitch, but it wouldn’t be wholly accurate. While the Belladonna is a queen among women, and an often unpredictable and demanding one at that, she has a glowing vibrancy about her that’s both fascinating and contagious. The Belladonna woman is drama, comedy, excitement, and adventure. To be with her is to look at life through many colored lenses. Every day, and sometimes several times a day, the spectrum changes, and it is always lively, and always animated.

Belladonna was an important ingredient in Witches brew during the Middle ages, often being equated with female sexuality.

The narcotic nature of the Belladonna woman’s appeal can offer solace as well as seduction – a feeling of flying, or at least of being light years beyond a dull existence. She will take her lovers to places few others will ever experience, and teach them how to soar their spirits farther, higher, faster. Her sensitivities will move her lovers, as well as her friends, in a profound way. Both will feel instinctually protective of the Belladonna woman, even during her most steely phases, suspecting that her stubborn shows of strength are, at least in part, a cover for deeper wounds.

Lovers feel heightened just by being in the Belladonna woman’s presence. Sights, smells, tastes, sounds, and textures all seem sharper, richer, deeper, and somehow more real than they’ve ever felt before. While in her court, lovers feel compelled to stand taller and be more heroic than they ever have before – to immerse themselves in a shared life that is fully thriving and saturated with desire.

It is the constant challenge of being in the Belladonna woman’s good graces that lends fire to the flames of her would-be heroes. Even small tokens of appreciation from her act as a catapult, launching lovers into a quest to find more, do more, love more, and be more. It is this never-ending quest of “more” that leaves one reeling with happiness over every success, and newly motivated by every failure. When love is present, and the Belladonna woman is in full bloom, the quest is more invigorating than exhausting.

It is when she wilts and turns away that the trip, once so beautiful and enlivening, turns bad.

Belladonna was used during the middle ages to gain confessions. This psychochemical torture would confuse and weaken victims, making them unsure of what was fantasy or reality, what they had done, or had merely imagined.

The sudden absence of her brightness leaves a void, and with a Belladonna woman, it is almost always sudden. It may be as simple as boredom for her, or a chill she suddenly developed when a particular lover’s gift, or even a friend’s, failed to please her. It may be that a quirk, a whim, or a new pair of eyes seen from across a crowded room piqued her interest, and curiosity in a Belladonna woman rarely goes unsated. She is a woman who acts upon her feelings, swiftly and confidently, and she is unlikely to consider any explanation necessary.

Left in the darkness, alone with a love that is not returned, those who have been upended by a Belladonna woman are wracked with grief and unanswered questions. Initially, they will torture themselves over what they might have done or failed to do, but soon they will question their own part in the Belladonna play, ruminating over the gifts they gave so freely, and the sacrifices they made without hesitation, so that they could stand in a ray of light that was not their own, and that never could be.

It can takes months or even years, but eventually the blackness turns to a familiar shade of gray. Numbness sets in, and its blank palette is felt as a relief. Life moves forward, at escalator pace, on some auto-pilot never noticed before. In time, feelings start to return, but they are guarded and framed in question marks. Still, even in the painful aftermath, the purples of African violets and the oranges and reds of sunsets stand out, as do the feathers, the bricks, the cracks in the sidewalks. . .the lilt of a piano, or the strum of a guitar. . . . the quickening of a pulse, the warmth of skin upon skin, the chill of morning, and the heat of fire.

Nothing after a Belladonna woman is the same as before. Even loneliness is more acute, and longing more intense.

And one day, you will see another Belladonna, beautiful and colorful, and charged with something rare and electric. Your eyes will meet hers as she is sizing you up. Instinctively, you will straighten your shoulders, stand a little taller, and the hero that resides in your heart will start pounding. . . .

*Did I mention a contest? Details in last paragraph.

This week has been worthy of another WTF Friday. Let the big gelatinous ball of stupefying people and events start rolling.

1. Seriously, you mean we share human DNA with people like Yvonne Bell and Jennifer Markwith? How is it that even possible? I had nightmares about this story of an elderly man, homebound with terminal cancer, who was left in a feces covered house by his daughter and her friend, with 27 unfed dogs, who started feasting on him when he fell to the floor. Michael Warner is still in critical condition, but conscious now. According to his sister, he remembers the events, and the first question he asked was why his daughter would do this to him. I don’t know, Mr. Warner, but apparently there is some sub-human DNA that passes for the real stuff, because I can’t imagine a real human being doing this to anyone, let alone their dying father. WTF?

2. In other sub-human news, Joseph Edward Duncan III was found eligible for the death penalty for four murders and the kidnappings of Shasta and Dylan Groene. It’s difficult to cheer the thought of his leaving the planet, since our wonderful system keeps letting pedophiles out of prison so they can do something even worse than what they did the first, second, or third time they got caught and convicted.

3. In lighter WTF news, the mayor of Clayton, California put his power to work to prevent two little girls, sisters Katie and Sabrina Lewis, ages 3 and 11, from selling fruits and vegetables from their garden. Here is Mayor Greg Manning’s stellar reasoning:

“They may start out with a little card-table and selling a couple of things, but then who is to say what else they have. Is all the produce made there, do they make it themselves? Are they going to have eggs and chickens for sale next?”

Well now, who could argue with that logic? We all know that radishes are just gateway produce, leading to little girls who’ll end up dealing god-knows-what in the future. Way to stay on top of crime, Mayor Manning! By the way? The girls were selling whole watermelons for $1, beating out their local Safeway by about $4. Maybe Safeway should be buying produce from the Lewis sisters.

4. On the home front, batteries and light bulbs. As in WTF? Didn’t I just change them? How can I be in the dark and without remotes AGAIN? Seriously, it’s like I have some sort of bad juju that burns out light bulbs and batteries with peculiar speed. If anyone is wondering what I want for my next birthday, it’s an industrial-sized quantity of both.

5. Windows. Operating. System. Sucks. I’ve ranted about it before, but no amount of screaming is easing the torturous fucked-upness that is Windows, which wants to install software I already have, run memory-sucking programs that I don’t want running — and continues to run them even after I manually end them. I particularly love the 40-50 system hangs I get per day, and the way I have to actually shut off my computer to get un-hung. Then there’s all those cross-sales Windows wants to do, by trying to force users into using their craptastic service partners. I hate you, Windows. I never thought you’d be such an insufferable prig, or such an abusive, gaslighting partner. I want a divorce on all grounds, and yes, when I can afford him again, I’m going back to Mac. He was always so easy to get along with, and never — not even once — made me want to fire up the chainsaw.

6. I continue to work for the government. WTF????

And how was YOUR week? Unroll your frustrations here, and hey — while we’re at it — let’s have a totally random, everybody’s name will be put into a hat contest. An I AM ART t-shirt is the prize, and winner will be announced next Friday. Start venting!

Let me corrupt that old Corinthians verse: Passion is a steady heat; it doesn’t wane, or come in flashes of fury. Passion isn’t rude, narcissistic, arrogant, or hateful. It’s not quick tempered, manic, or full of rage. It doesn’t seek to burn others, but to live up to its own ideals. There is nothing passion can’t touch; there is nothing that can’t be improved by passion — it is driven by desire, curiosity, interest, but most of all, connection — for something that’s both inside and outside of one’s self. It’s a fully charged sense of being, and a limitless offering to the world. – Me, 1996, in a letter to a friend

In the mid-90’s I attended a reading with an author who was incredibly hostile. He used the word “hate” a dozen or more times in the course of a two-hour panel. He hated these words, those people, this story, or that idea. He hated the lighting, the set-up, and the questions. When one of the audience members asked about his hostility, the author fired back with a cliched mention of his ethnicity and said “we’re a passionate people, what do you expect?” I wasn’t surprised that his second book flopped. He’d exhausted his anger in his first book, and the second was just recycled rage with a new title.

I thought of that author, and a letter I wrote to a friend shortly afterwards, when contest winner Jeanne sent me her topic of choice. “Can a passionate, out-spoken woman find serenity?” At first, I thought it would be an easy question to answer, and a fitting way to end my recent series. Then I realized that my definition of both passion and serenity may not be shared by others.

I’ve met many people who say they are passionate. What they really are is just chronically angry, and their anger is sprayed in every direction, from slow traffic to a waitress who doesn’t bend to their whim quickly enough. Call that what you will, but it’s not passion in my opinion. Passion, to me, has an enlightening quality to it, whether it’s felt in solitude by an artist struggling to find the perfect form, or in a hearty crowd of political activists.

Passionate people get angry, even furious, but their temper is directed at specific issues or ideas, and usually has some higher purpose, whether it’s to expose wrongdoing, or get others to pay attention to a burning issue or new concept. I’ve yet to meet a passionate person who did not keep a set of bright, shining ideals in their pocket.

As for serenity, (peaceful happiness), those who’ve read this blog for any amount of time know how I feel about the “think positive” movement that has been part of the collective American consciousness since the 1970’s. What started off as a revival of rational optimism has become generational snake oil. Happiness, as a corporate entity, has become mantras about teamwork, going with the flow, and not complaining. As a business operated by social gurus, happiness is often about bypassing reality, and finding self-esteem in a disingenuous, largely fictional self.

Rather than the blinders-on, pseudo kind of happiness offered up by CEO’s and self-help gurus, I think of happiness as something that’s wired into us as something of a mental-biological- emotional imperative. It’s the visceral, instinctive pull that keeps us striving, vital, and open to grand possibilities like personal success, trust, and love. It’s a nearly universal pull – one that draws us together to laugh at the same jokes and find common pleasures – and one that allows each of us to recover over and over again from setbacks and tragedies, so that we can take another reach at whatever rung we most desire.

So the question was, “Can a passionate, out-spoken woman find serenity?” My answer is both a resounding yes, and an experienced no.

Yes, because I believe that more than perhaps anyone else in her vicinity, a passionate woman understands the need for happiness, in her own life and in the lives of others. Her outspoken views are usually driven by some humanitarian or artistic ideal, and ideals, by their nature, are inspiring – not pessimistic or apathetic.

Yes, because women who hone their passions often find themselves excited by the possibilities in every new day. Instead of being habitually compartmentalized, they find the time, the interest, and the passion to fully engage their bodies, minds, and emotions.

Yes, because even though passionate women will often feel outraged, and have a need to express it through words or art, their focus is usually pinpoint sharp – a beautifully directed bullet rather than a random spray of arrows.

No. Because so much of the world is corporate – an enigmatical, rigid maze of stale thinking and senseless policies. The corporate-minded world – which includes educational, social, and political arenas, as well as businesses – may have lofty mission statements and catchy poster slogans when it comes to human potential, but real passion scares them. If they’re not misconstruing or hampering it, they’re outright rejecting it as something “too individualistic” and therefore not suitable for team play.

And no, not if a passionate woman allows herself to be swayed into thinking that she’s somehow wrong for the world, wrong for the times, wrong to express herself, or wrong not to go with the flow. Not if she comes to believe that acceptance by others is her salvation, and happiness will only be found in conforming better, speaking more sweetly, smiling prettier, or expressing only thoughts that put others at ease.

Serenity, happiness, and passion are not incompatible, not when passionate women are willing to risk, and even take pride in, being outside the boxes others would fashion for them. When a passionate woman is willing to walk the beautiful but often lonely road of difference — when fitting in is not as important to her as self-expression, and when she embraces her passion as something that is more vital to her than the approval of others — some amount of serenity is a natural consequence. It may not be the kind that comes with popularity or ready acceptance — but the hard-won kind that comes a result of being self-loyal, authentic, and passionate enough to scoff at the mazes.

Linda spent the first several years of her life being nearly silent–she hardly spoke to anyone. When she entered kindergarten, Linda would not talk, but she would draw and paint . . .and her teachers did not know how to “fix” her vivid, emotional art. Linda has since come out of her shell, all the better prepared for the world by her time spent in it. Whether through silence or through bold colors, Linda’s passion for–and commitment to–self expression defines her. By speaking so loudly, Linda encourages and enables others to see and share their passions. And she’s the best sister ever. - - Karen Dinino, Author, and Sister of Linda Woods

Linda Woods describes herself as the black sheep of the family. The third-born in a family of two boisterous boys and a more outgoing older sister, she was a born artist, who grew up feeling different, not only in looks (she’s petite and darker than her siblings), but in the way she viewed the world around her. Childhood circumstances, such as having to work in the grade school cafeteria in exchange for a reduced lunch price, were acutely felt by the shy, quiet girl who grew to hate everything about school except the art classes. In these, she excelled, and drawing and painting became not only her instinct, but her safe haven.

After a contentious split between her parents when Woods (nee Goldberg) was four, she and her siblings were left with a largely absent father who didn’t pay child support, and a mother who struggled to earn enough to keep four children fed. The struggle wasn’t always successful. There were times when food was short, and times when a parent was needed, and none were around. The siblings – Lee, Karen, Linda, and Tod – turned instead to each other for support and grew amazingly close, not only in caring, but in interests. Lee Goldberg and Tod Goldberg are both respected authors. Karen Dinino is a practicing attorney, but also collaborated with Woods on two books, Visual Chronicles and Journal Revolution.

Woods left high school at 16 to pursue her passion at The Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in Los Angeles, where she studied visual arts and graphic design. Sharing a one-room apartment with her older sister, Karen, who was attending UCLA, Woods eked out a living working for a print shop and selling hand-painted I AM ART t-shirts and other creations at the local swap meet.

“Our furniture was wooden crates we stole from the back of the grocery store and two beach chairs. We both scheduled our classes for morning, so we could spend the afternoons at the beach. We’d carry our two chairs from our living room to the beach and back, and at night we’d do our home work and I’d paint shirts.” Woods describes those lean years as “the best of times”. Eventually, the two sisters made it to a bigger apartment and better furniture before marrying their respective husbands within months of each other.

The first time I met Linda Woods, I felt like an adoptee meeting her real-life sibling for the first time. Whether it was because the same things annoyed us both – such as humorless people, people who don’t ask questions, and insincere people – or whether it’s because we appreciated the same things – like laughter, loyalty, sarcasm, and great chocolate, is difficult to say. What was easy was the communication and the instant feeling of sisterhood.

I’m not the only one who has felt that bond. Many other women have also claimed Woods for a sister (or seester, as they often say on her blog). Her spontaneous warmth, quirky sense of humor, and love for sharing art in all its various forms is a draw to other artists, whether they are just beginning or looking for new perspectives.

Woods’s career has been soaring since Visual Chronicles hit the bookstores. Her art has been featured on television shows like The View, in magazines such as Somerset and Artist Sketchbook, and in books such as Living the Creative Life.

It was a pleasure to interview Linda Woods, my sister, my friend, and an artist whose passion is not only in paint and ink, but in breaking the rules.

The artist’s temperament. What does that mean to you?

I think that artist temperament is kind of an insult, or else a wall people try to hide behind or throw in front of others, as if it could protect them from having to be good, smart business women.

There are several facets to being an artist. The first, of course, is creation. Then there’s marketing, promotion, and finding an audience for your work. Do you find the bridge between solitude and being “out there” difficult?

I think one difficulty in crossing that bridge between solitary creation and being “out there” is that the the artist’s creation may NOT be what the admirer sees. So when you cross the bridge, you actually aren’t in the same place as the person you came to meet, and that can be awkward.

I create alone, in my own little world with the music blasting, a bag of chocolate chips at my side, and my own thoughts and feelings flowing. I don’t even notice time passing! Even when I am out in the world just living my life, I am observing, listening, SEEING, creating art in my head. I’m paying attention to all the little details and making mental notes, which is very similar to what I do with marketing and PR but with the art, it’s private and much less exhausting. It can be a challenge going between the parts of the day where I am alone working on art and then doing the marketing of the art, dealing with people. It’s like being two different people with two different jobs.

You’ve collaborated with your sister, Karen Dinino, on two books (Visual Chronicles and Journal Revolution). Was that always the plan, or did the idea to collaborate occur spontaneously?

I’ve collaborated with my sister on my entire life so the books seemed like a natural progression! We do everything together. I think it was always the plan once it became the plan but as plans with us go, there is never really a plan. Karen is the only person I ever really want to work with. We never get sick of each other, we always know what the other one thinks, we agree on everything, and she always leaves me the last bite of pie.

You’ve also been featured in several magazines, most recently for your journaling endeavors. How different is it to create art for a singular purpose, like an article or specific audience, rather than as something you create solely for you?

When I create without the intention of selling a piece or a specific market, I do not sensor myself at all. When I am creating art for a specific publication, there are usually guidelines or requests the editor gives. I start by creating one version of a piece the way I would do it if there were no rules then do a second watered down version for the publication. I always create for me first. Sometimes the first version ends up being the one the editor wants but I can offer both. I like to give options. Part of being professional and successful is being able to work with editors and be flexible. Sometimes I do have to rework my art. Sometimes some pieces are not appropriate for some publications in their original form. By creating the version I want first, if it’s not the one that gets published, I have still expressed myself. Part of the job is knowing which battles to choose and knowing when to tailor your art to a specific audience. You won’t connect with people if they don’t connect with your art.

We’ve been talking about the “too much” accusations that are often leveled against passionate artists, particularly women. What “too much” or “not enough” charges have you heard throughout your career, and how have they affected you?

I used to be told often that I was ‘too mad’, and I WAS mad. I was so mad, I could hardly speak. Then I decided to turn that anger into art. Now people think I am so nice, and the funny thing is, I am more expressive with my anger and emotion than when they thought I was mad! The thing people wanted less of is what they ask for more of now.

I recently saw how your lack of rules affected what’s become known as the Scrapbook Mafia. What is with those people?

The gist of it is a bunch of scrapbookers got upset because we teach people that expressing yourself does not require acid-free products or expensive art supplies. They didn’t (and still don’t) understand the difference between self expression (ART!) and preserving memories. We teach people to preserve their sanity, not their memories. We also tell women to journal their own lives, not just their husband’s or children’s. So, they frequently send hate mail and write blogs about how awful we are for suggesting that people express themselves with whatever ART supplies they have handy, whether it’s duct tape or the back of a cardboard box.

You’re fortunate to be a working artist and photographer — it’s your passion and your livelihood. What’s the next step in your evolution?

Forms of expression cannot be predicted–the fun of discovery and invention are part of what impassions me!

Woods’s latest venture is still somewhat of a secret, but I can tell you it will feature women and photography in a totally different, but bonding light. Like the books that preceded it, this one promises to share stories of women and sisterhood through art, humor, and relatable experiences. As for rules, the Mafia can keep them. Woods’s only abiding rule is that there are no rules in art – least of all those that inhibit creativity or expression.

Other Links:

Linda’s Etsy Shop

“Nothing in my past had prepared me to start and run a business, much less one that made money. I’m what The New York Times once referred to in an article as an accidental entrepreneur.” — Nikki Hardin, Founder and Editor of Skirt! magazine.

If the Brothers Grimm were still around, they would write the story of Nikki Hardin’s life just as fairytales used to be written — with plenty of twists and turns, dark days, seemingly insurmountable challenges, and glimmering moments of hope before finally, there is an ever-after to the story, one that is both happy and richly deserved.

Hardin’s path wasn’t short, and it wasn’t easy. After eloping with her boyfriend at 17, Hardin became the mother of three children. Twelve years later, she found herself in the unenviable position of being divorced, with few career skills. At 29 years old, Hardin enrolled in college where she eventually earned a B.A. in literature. She moved onto graduate school on a Governor’s fellowship, but didn’t complete her master’s because, as she says, she spent “most of the year crying and watching Kojak reruns.”

Still, the divorced mother had her college degree, and an accomplishment like that usually signals some neat happily-ever-after ending — at least in the contemporary realm of women’s stories, where even years of hard times are often condensed into a bite-sized afterthought, making success seem easy or somehow inevitable.

Hardin’s story isn’t that neatly packaged, perhaps because she tells it herself, with unflinching honesty and very little romantic glow. After her graduation, Hardin went to work as a secretary for a book publishing company in Northern Virginia. In 1985, on a whim, Hardin moved to Charleston, SC, where she “nursed a midlife crisis”, cleaned houses, clerked in a liquor store with a “psychotic” parrot, and picked up the occasional freelance writing job.

In 1994, a “broke and bored” Hardin found herself venting to a friend about the state of her life, feeling like a failure, and wanting more.

He asked me what I would do if I could choose from anything at all, and I said, “Start a magazine for women”. Then do it, he said. I can’t, I protested, I’m 50. I don’t have any money. I don’t know how. I wanted it to be easy, and I was scared. I thought of a million reasons NOT to answer that calling, but the idea wouldn’t go away.

Hardin began Skirt! magazine with $400 and the support of her friends. She had no business plan, no collateral, and no experience in the magazine industry, but she did have a vision. She wanted a publication that she would be interested in reading. “If we had an ideal reader,” Hardin explains, her name would be ‘Martha Steinem’ because most of our readers are kickass liberals who also like to shop and cook and don’t think wearing lipstick means you don’t have a brain.” It was a pleasure to interview Hardin, whose passion is apparent not only in her flagship publication, but in her personal stories.

In The Glass Castle, Jeanette Walls goes from college to success with seeming ease. As a single mother of three, you returned to school at 29. I imagine it wasn’t easy. What was that process like, and how did you get from there to starting Skirt?

It wasn’t easy because I was so broke all the time, but on the other hand, it was one of the best times of my life because I finally felt as if I was where I belonged. I think it was hard on my kids because we were living kind of a chaotic life, but we all survived it. I graduated from American University in D.C. when I was 33 and found an entry-level secretary job with a branch of a national publishing company. I was lucky that I had a great boss and mentor and he really pushed me and gave me more and more responsibility and promoted me to the editorial staff—unheard of at that time in that company for a secretary to become an editor. By the time I left, I was a Sr. editor and an assistant vice president. I left to take a job with a software company, which was just not the right for me, and at the same time, the relationship I’d been in for the past 7 years went bad and my two older kids had left for college and the military—so I had a clichéd and classic midlife crisis.

As a result I made what seemed to be an irrational decision—I moved with my high school-age daughter to a tiny barrier island off the coast of Charleston, SC. I had no money, no connections, no clue what I was doing (except that I wanted to write), so I embarked on a series of kind of dead-end jobs that turned out to be just the right thing for me. At the time, it felt like I was vegetating—leading a bohemian day-to-day lifestyle at the edge of the world—but I think I was gestating instead. After cleaning houses, working in a liquor store with a psychotic parrot, waitressing and other odd jobs, I finally began freelance writing, but I was not making much money and I felt I’d run my life into a dead-end alley. That’s when the idea for Skirt! came along. I was 50 and started a pro-choice, liberal publication with about $400 in one of the most conservative states in the south. Another irrational decision! Women were hungry for something authentic, though, and they weren’t getting it in the daily paper. Skirt! was different in that it combined local features with nonlocal content in a highly visual style — not like your usual free alternative publication. And we made sure that the ads were just as interesting in terms of design as the editorial—a simple idea, but one that nobody else had picked up on.

What are your goals for Skirt? What overall message do you hope your publication will carry to its audience?

I’d love to see editions across the country. We’re in 20 cities now and hope to keep expanding. I never set out to change the world or be a standard bearer for women’s rights, but since that’s one of my interests, that plays a big part in the mission of skirt!. Advertisers know that we’re pro-choice, liberal, and sometimes controversial, but they also know our target demographic is one they want to reach. It’s been incredibly instructive for me, too, to have a dialogue with women who don’t agree with us on those issues but read Skirt! anyway. Having those exchanges has proven to me that women in this country have so much in common, and if we could just get past the surface disagreements, we could change the world!

We’ve spoken briefly about the “too much” factor – how passionate women are often called “too much” of something or not enough of another by people who expect us to be more docile. What have you been called “too much” or not enough of? And how have these attributes contributed to your life and career?

Being “too much” is not something I can help, although I do find myself at times trying to be “nice,” using a kind of camouflage in order not to threaten people, especially men, with my sometimes radical views and large ambitions. It never works, of course. I think being an ambitious woman in this culture definitely affects your personal life and your work life. Just look at Hillary Clinton—her campaign failed for many reasons, but one of them was the way the press beat her up about her clothes, her laugh, her coldness and then her tears. I think the real reason was because they didn’t know how to deal with her ambition and somehow in a woman, it was unseemly.

Many people feel that the country turned back the hands of time in the last ten years, and that passion for politics, social issues, and noble causes has lessened. Do you believe this, and if so, do you see passion, particularly for females, making a comeback?

I see this every day in the area where I live. The size of a woman’s engagement ring or how much their wedding cost often seems a bigger achievement than someone getting promoted, but I also see that salaries and opportunities for young women are in some ways still very limited in comparison to men. Beyond that, I’m discouraged that women in general seem not to be fired up by political and social inequities, and there is a real dearth of women running for public office. In South Carolina, we have one (!) woman in the state legislature, and she is retiring. It’s still a boy’s club with not much hope in the near future of changing that. Why aren’t we outraged?!

You’ve met many women through your work with Skirt. Do you believe assertive women are still largely considered “bitchy” whereas assertive men are viewed as “competitive”? Do you see this as something is changing?

Yes, I think it still happens and unfortunately, I think much of the criticism or negative remarks come from other women. I hear a lot of, “what kind of mother could she be to be that single-minded about her career?”. Ugh.

Have you taken any of your life lessons from women you view as passionate? If so, who were they, and what lessons did you learn?

Gloria Steinem has always been a huge role model for me, because she is so focused and unwavering even when she’s under attack. Women’s ideas often get ridiculed as a way of marginalizing and neutralizing them. Steinem has endured a lot of that and yet she never loses her dignity or her core values. I’m also a big fan of Frida Kahlo (my blog is named after her) because she kept on creating throughout a life filled with physical and emotional pain. Her passion jumps off the canvas, and she’s an important personal icon for me.

In 2003, with a legion of loyal readers, Hardin sold Skirt! magazine to the Morris Group but continues on as editor, lending both her vision and her voice to the original publication as well as its newer book-publishing arm. In her sixties now, Hardin’s passions haven’t faltered or waned — they have only grown stronger and more focused as she finds ways to share them with other women.