Well, ain’t this somethin’? A young woman hollerin’ truth at a rich man who’s been sittin’ on his gold like it’s hens’ eggs. Back in 1851 I stood up and asked, "ain’t I a woman?" to wake folks up; sometimes you gotta shake the pillars to get the roof to budge. I reckon her words were rough as a corn cob, but sometimes plain speakin’ is the only voice power understands. If Mr. Musk’s feelin’ prickly, maybe it’s his conscience gettin’ poked; more power to her for speaking out, ’cause quiet compliance never fed a hungry child.