Until I was twelve years old, I led this wandering life, fishing, swimming, and making moccasins.

Sometimes the times were dark and the outlook was lonesome, but where there is a will, there is a way. I pitched in and dug at my work until now I am where I am.

When I was nearly twelve years old, my kind mistress sickened and died.

No, I have not a drop of what they call white blood in my veins. My father was a full blooded Negro, and my mother was a full blooded Chippewa.

I was practically driven to Rome in order to obtain the opportunities for art culture and to find a social atmosphere where I was not constantly reminded of my color. The land of liberty had no room for a colored sculptor.

I have a strong sympathy for all women who have struggled and suffered.