Born in November of 1922, Annie Converse was beautiful, funny, and wonderfully bold and eccentric. She and her younger sister Penelope Converse, born in November of 1924, were mischievous, rebellious, and unwilling to follow the path that their proper Bostonian parents expected of them. In the early 1940's, those expectations were to be a debutante, marry a nice Harvard man, and live the life proscribed by privileged white people of that era. For many women, it meant putting dreams aside, and living a life that did not fit. Their mother, Helen Knight Converse, graduated from Smith College in 1917 summa cum laude, with a degree in philosophy. Rather than pursue her love for literature and learning, she did what was expected of her and became so depressed that she made several attempts on her life after each of her daughters were born. Annie and Penelope vowed not to follow her path.

At eighteen years of age, Annie had big plans to become a fashion model in New York after she graduated from the private high school in Boston that she and Penelope attended, and the minute the ink had dried on her diploma, Annie was on a train to New York where she planned to stay at the Barbizon Hotel for Women and commence her career.

Two years later, when Penelope graduated, she left her debutante dress hanging in her closet, packed her bags, and got on a train to Vermont where she drove a taxi, waited tables, and indulged her passion for skiing. 

Annie wanted the excitement and energy of New York, and found many jobs posing for covers of some magazines her proper parents did not approve of, and subsequently refused to provide any financial support. Annie, defiant, determined, and adventurous, thumbed her nose and went right on posing for True Detective, and other such publications.

She did end up marrying a nice Harvard man, but was unwilling to settle down, and went to Idaho for a quick divorce. Sadly, Annie succumbed to alcohol over time, and although beautiful, gifted, with a sharp wit, and a sharp intuition, she could not overcome the trauma and loneliness she had experienced in her childhood. In her final years, I visited her often in the nursing home where she had loved since being rescued off the streets of Plymouth, Massachusetts in 1993. She was loved by all the staff and the residents, although she would say she couldn't understand why. She would call me infuriated that she was being made to stay at a place other than her house without her dogs. Here is an anecdote of what Annie was like:

“Annie, dear, you just can’t be livin’ on the street,” the nurses would cluck in broad New England accents as they tried to soothe her angry feathers.

“Well, I’ll be goddammned if I’m going to live in this dump,” she would retort haughtily, her crisp Proper Bostonian accent echoing down the gastric-green hallways of the secured section at the nursing home for people with various forms of dementia. Her attempts at escape were entirely innocent. Just a stroll down to the beach for a swim on an icy January day in her bikini and her swimming cap with the asters and daisies bouncing merrily in perfect rhythm with each determined step toward the back door. When the alarm betrayed her, she let loose a spray of curses as she was gently encouraged back to her room muttering about not even being able to get a goddamn cocktail or go for a goddamn swim for God’s sake. Annie died in April of 2003 at the age of seventy-one. She would want every woman to follow her heart and trust her intuition, and to stand up to anyone who doubted her gifts. Even though she defied her family, it was at great cost, and her spirit was crushed. When I asked her what she might say to women like her who want to follow their hearts, but the fear seems too overwhelming and the risks too great, she said this: "A woman cannot continue to want love and encouragement from people who are unable to give her that. She must be brave enough to depart from them with grace. I allowed my heart to be broken and it was too painful to bear."

Penelope was also intelligent and perceptive, beautiful, unique, and daring; extremely sensitive, but did not shy away from adventures that took her far beyond the boundaries of what was expected of proper New England women in the 1940's. But Penelope had to spend her life hiding who she truly was. Although she had heterosexual relationships, she found comfort, solace, and deep love with other women, and had a female lover for many years, even during her marriage to my father. She, like many other men and women who were gay or lesbian in her era could never be open about her sexuality. She struggled to be who she was and also to maintain the appearance of being a heterosexual woman. Over time, she developed anorexia, dependence on prescription drugs, and severe depression, which got worse when she became ill with an autoimmune disease in 1966. It was a rare illness for which the treatment was massive doses of corticosteroids which caused profound psychological changes and worsened her addiction problems. The stress and anxiety she undoubtedly suffered as a result of having to hide who she truly was for so many years may have been significant in causing her illness. In her career as a photojournalist in the late 1940's and through the early 1950's, Penelope challenged the gender norms and got assignments that took her into the canyons of Utah, the wilderness of Alaska, and the mountains of Idaho and Wyoming. Her work appeared in men's magazines such as Field and Stream, Sports Afield, and many other publications in the United States and Europe. Penelope climbed in the Alps of Switzerland, and swam with seat turtles in Acapulco. She immersed herself in these adventures with her lover, Helene Fischer, who had also been her mentor.

She kept this secret from her family and struggled in silence to maintain an outward image of a heterosexual woman. Penelope's illness led to addiction to narcotics often combined with alcohol, and she was never able to find peace and freedom from depression and addiction. As my mother, she told me many stories of how she insisted on being who she was to the extent she could without feeling she would lose the connection with her parents and extended family. She encouraged me to do exactly what my heart told me to do no matter what, and not to let anyone tell me what kind of life to live. "If you want liberation," she said during the women's movement, "you have to take it, and take responsibility for all that comes with freedom."

Despite her courage and her willingness to take risks to be who she was, she was still in bondage by terrible trauma as a child. Both Penelope and Annie suffered trauma as a result of their mother being mentally ill and dependent on prescription drugs, and a father who was a heavy drinker, all carefully hidden beneath the veil of wealth and apparent success.

Dancin' Annie Creations seeks to invite women who suffer from addiction, depression, eating disorders, and trauma to share their stories and to find freedom from these illnesses that steal our creativity, alienate us from our hearts and our intuitive knowing, and ultimately kill so many of us. The wearables, gifts, and accessories are reminders for you and your loved ones from Annie and Penelope never to give up on yourselves.