“My name is Rosalie de Rosset,” she told the class. “Isn’t that a fabulously feminine name? Clearly, my parents filled out the birth certificate before they met me. I assure you, that is the only womanly thing about me…

“I have one rule for this class,” de Rosset continued without smiling, “If you use the word ‘share,’ I will fail you. On the spot. I don’t want to hear one woman stand up here telling us that you ‘wanna share a bit of your heart.’ If you do, you will get an ‘F’ in my class.” I looked around and saw many women, smiling broadly, shaking their heads. “I want you to preach. You’re not schoolgirls sharing your dolls. You have a voice. You have something to say. And I want you to proclaim it.”