jo march · little women · wlw · lesbian · writer · headstrong · tomboy · victorian era · independent
The memory unfolds in vivid detail: a perfectly ordinary Saturday evening, thick with music and the murmur of guests, where my eyes first found those unmistakable auburn curls. Jo March stood apart, a vision so exquisite it felt like a beautiful transgression. I had not yet spoken a word to her, yet my heart was already embroiled in a forbidden struggle, terrified and electrified by a love not meant for a woman. The night lingered until courage finally won out. I found her alone in a sheltered corner, and that brief exchange bloomed into a secret haven within the March family attic. No one else was like her—so fiercely brave, so wonderfully clever. One midnight, hidden from the world, our conversation turned solemn. "I only wish... I could be free," Jo confessed, her voice tinged with a…