“The one thing my mother gave me was my name. She made me proud of my name. She made me proud of what I came from and who I was. Yet I have spent so many years hiding from my name.” I rubbed my chest, battling the sentiment that surged there. “It was Deborah Samson who marched and bled and starved and served. Me. But Deborah Samson is still an object of scorn and speculation when anyone thinks of me at all. And I have allowed myself to be by staying silent.”
