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bedtime history. Hello,

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my name is Emily and I live in the bustling

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city of New York in the year 1905. I

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come from a modest home tucked away in

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a neighborhood where the streets are lined with

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apartments. My family may not be

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wealthy, but we are rich in spirit. My

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mother, Mary, is a woman of strong

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convictions. She is a suffragist, a warrior

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for women's rights. Our humble

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home is a hub of discussion, a

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safe haven for ideas that go against

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the norms of society. My

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father, a man with a gentle heart and

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a supportive soul, stands by my mother's side.

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During the day, I attend a local school for

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girls, a place where our education isn't quite

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as good as the boys' school nearby. Their

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school has better books and well-paid teachers and

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quality equipment, while ours is the opposite. The

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building isn't well taken care of, but our

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thirst for knowledge burns brightly. Despite

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the challenges, my friends and I find solace

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within these worn out walls. We share dreams of

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a world where our voices matter as much as

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we can. as the boys, where

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the ink in our pens carry the same weight

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as theirs. We dare to dream beyond the limits

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society has given us." One

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afternoon, after a long day of vocabulary

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and math at school, I was excited

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to get back home, walking faster than

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usual. After hurrying up the

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stairs to our apartment, I walked in the

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door to see my mother and her friends

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using black paint to write on a large

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banner. Welcome home, Emily, she

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said. Are you ready to help with the march?

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Yes, I exclaimed, joining one of her friends

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at the table. I used the black

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paint to follow chalk letters on the cloth

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banner. They were planning

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the route and the chance they would say on the way

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to the hall. More than anything,

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they wanted the right to vote, which had been denied

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to women their entire lives. When

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the three banners were finished, they bound them to

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large poles and headed outside. I

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followed behind, moving as fast as I could.

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On the main street we joined other women

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who had made similar banners and were marching

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while Let us

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be heard, let us vote. The

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further we walked, the more women joined in.

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People along the way often yelled at us

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and told us to go back home, but

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there were too many of us, too many

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voices to be stopped. Someone even

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threw a tomato at my mother and her friend,

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but they ignored them and kept marching. The

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streets resonated with the rhythm of our

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steps, a cadence of defiance against the

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current norms. As we marched

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to see if faces, both curious and angry,

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peered at us from windows and corners, but

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undeterred, we pressed on. After

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a few more blocks we reached our destination, a

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tall brick building and inside a large hall

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filled with women from all walks of life,

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young, old, of different backgrounds and

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ethnicities, rich and poor. All

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women of strength, resilience and hope. Some

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men, too, who supported our cause. As

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we gathered the air, became charged with

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the energy of progress and opportunity. We

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chant and cheer until someone takes the

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stage and we cheer more. The

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speaker finally has to calm us

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down. We are so excited. Elizabeth

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Cady Stanton speaks first. She

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is eloquent, a wonderful speaker. She's been

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a suffragist speaking up for the rights

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of women for many years. She says

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boldly, we hold these truths to be

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self-evident that all men and women are

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created equal. I feel the

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truth of her words in my own soul and

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cheer loudly with all my heart. I

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want to be treated as equally as men too. She

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also says the best protection any

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woman can have is courage. I

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want to be just as courageous and just

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as bold as Elizabeth Cady Stanton. After

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Elizabeth, Susan B. Anthony takes the stand.

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She's known as the boldest of the

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suffragists. She's never been afraid

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to speak her mind. Just seeing her makes

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me want to stand up and be strong

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for my right to vote someday. She

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says boldly, the day may be

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approaching when the whole world will recognize woman

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as the equal of man. She pounds the

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podium as she speaks. We cheer

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and hold our banners high. Susan continues,

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I think the girl who is able to earn

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her own living and pay her own way should

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be as happy as anyone on the earth. The

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sense of independence and security is

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very sweet. In

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that hall I felt the power of unity, the

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combined courage of the women in the room. This

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force that transcended the boundaries set

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by society. The suffragists

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are not just fighting for the right to

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vote. They're paving the way for a future

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where every girl can dream without limits. The

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simplicity of their message resonates with me. The

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right to vote is not just about marking

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a ballot. It's about having a voice, a

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say in the direction of our shared destiny. As

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Elizabeth and Susan speak, I'm struck by the

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realization that change is not just a distant

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dream. It's a journey we embark on

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every time we stand up for ourselves. Their

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words spark a flame within, a flame

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that refuses to be extinguished. The

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march and the speeches are not just events.

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They're milestones in a larger story of our

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progress. I'm no longer just a girl

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from a modest home. I'm part of a move. that

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is reshaping the very fabric of society. The

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simplicity of my dress and the worn-out pages

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of my textbook do not define my worth.

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What defines me is the fire in my

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heart, the belief that change is not a

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privilege but a right for every woman, every

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girl. The march

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and the conference end, days turn

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into weeks, and my routine becomes

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a delicate balance between the rigors

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of school and the suffragist movement.

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The halls of our girls school echo

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with whispered dreams and shared aspirations. One

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by one the suffragist's victories grow.

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States begin to recognize the voice of

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women, the power that has long been

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underestimated. The tide is turning and

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I find myself standing at the cusp of

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something very big. June

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4th, 1920. Finally the day arrives when the

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right to vote is given to women. The

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19th amendment to the Constitution. It's

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not just a victory for the suffragists, it's a

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triumph for every woman who dared to dream.

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The voting booth becomes a symbol of

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empowerment, a testament to the fact that

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change, however gradual, is possible.

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As I cast my vote for the first time

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I feel a surge of pride. The weight

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of history rests on my shoulders but it's

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a weight I gladly bear. The

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suffragists with their unwavering determination have

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paved the way for a brighter

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future. But the journey does

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not end with the right to vote. It's a

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stepping stone to a world where equality is not

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just a word but a reality. Inspired

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by the suffragists who come before

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me I go to university and

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get a respectable education reaching for

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heights that were once considered impossible.

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The simplicity of the suffragist message, the

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right to vote, the right to

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be heard transcends time. It's a

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reminder that every voice regardless of its

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origin has the power to shape the course

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of history. In our shared

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story the suffragists have written a chapter that

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echoes through the ages, a chapter

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that inspires, empowers, and reminds us

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that The change begins with a

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single, resolute voice.