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Copyright © 1974 by Andrea Dworkin

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Drawing on page 98 by Jean Holabird

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For Grace Paley

and in Memory o f Emma Goldman

. . . Shakespeare had a sister; but do not

look for her in Sir Sidney Lee’s life of the

poet. She died young —alas, she never

wrote a word.

this poet who never wrote a word and was

buried at the crossroads still lives. She lives

in you and in me, and in many other women who are not here tonight, for they are

washing up the dishes and putting the

children to bed. But she lives; for great

poets do not die; they are continuing presences; they need only the opportunity to

walk among us in the flesh. This opportunity, as I think, it is now coming within

your power to give her. For my belief is

that if we live another century or so—I

am talking of the common life which is the

real life and not of the little separate lives

which we live as individuals —and have

five hundred a year each of us and rooms

of our own; if we have the habit of freedom and the courage to write exactly what

we think; if we escape a little from the

common sitting-room and see human beings not always in their relation to each

other but in relation to reality. . . if we

face the fact, for it is a fact, that there is

no arm to cling to, but that we go alone and

that our relation is to the world of reality

. . . then the opportunity will come and the

dead poet who was Shakespeare’s sister

will put on the body which she has so often

laid down. Drawing her life from the lives