A few years later, I was sent to the principal's office for complaining when the social studies teacher showed us a film about how boys were horny slobs and girls were overly sensitive creatures who had to be careful to draw a line about parking. I was still in high school when I bought a copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves.
And around the time of my senior year, my mom and I both read The Women's Room by Marilyn French. Thirty-two years later, the impression that book left on me still lingers.
I guess she died a few days ago. You can read the NY Times obit here.