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ladyhallen · 9 years ago

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The Problems of Ronald Weasley - Fire Dragon

The Weasley’s are a family of fire-dragons, all of them born in one clutch but hatching slowly, as how it usually is with Molly’s line, the Great Dragons.

Ron thinks his family is weird.

This is attributed to coming across some dragon books and realizing that dragons were apparently supposed to be territorial and resent sharing space. He comes to terms with it though, like he comes to understand that while other dragons might be like that, the Weasley’s were different. He attributes this to his dam’s line, the Great Dragons of the East.

Ron’s hoard is achievements.

Not even great, outstanding achievements like his clutch-brother Bill achieves in Hogwarts School of Magical Creatures, or world-breaking achievements like his clutch-brother Charlie.

No, Ron’s hoard is a small collection of achievements, like watching the dawn through the first time on top of a hill. Making his dam laugh long and loudly after she’d argued with his sire and stank the den with her smoke in anger.

Ron’s hoard is small and understated, something his family struggles to understand. He understands why that is, though it doesn’t prevent the hurt from settling in.

After all, the entire family’s hoards are large, flashy and attention grabbing.

Bill hoarded beautiful things and guarded them. He was good friends with the Veela’s, and even moved there after he’d graduated, much to their dam’s dismay.

Charlie didn’t hoard things, but he chased after dangerous, exciting things. Usually adventures. He’d go through adventures in his human form and enjoyed the struggle of it. It was certainly attention grabbing. Mostly for their dams stress levels.

Percy hoarded facts. Everyone initially assumed he hoarded the printed word – libraries, but after clutch-sister Ginny had accidentally burnt his books and he didn’t get angry, they all realized that he’d already hoarded and memorized everything written and didn’t mind having the hard copies burnt.

The twins hoarded innovation. New things, exciting things and frequently invented them because the world moved too slow for them after all.

Ginny hoarded things that were different, like witch-sprite Luna who showed she was more sprite and less witch than the rest of her clan. This was difficult to their sire’s stress levels too, since sentient things are difficult hoards and there are rules about it that the government

Compared to that, was it any surprise that Ron’s small hoard is negligible? The twins even tease him sometimes, of having no hoard at all, that he wasn’t a dragon after all.

It hurt, but Ron persevered. His hoard may have been small, but it was still beautiful and he guarded it jealously.

Meeting Harry Potter, last descendant of Merlin’s line of Wizards, comes as a complete shock to Ron.

He wasn’t like Ginny, who’d damn near salivated over the thought of Harry Potter, so certain was she that she would belong in her hoard. Or Percy, who wanted to fill in the gaps of facts left when Harry Potter disappeared in the remnants a crumbling cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

No, he didn’t even know that he would become Harry Potter’s friend, and would come to hoard his laughter.

Ron inhales Harry’s firefly smiles and his quiet laughter. He devours the sun-brightness of Harry’s green eyes as he discovers wizarding sweets. (Dragon sweets are entirely different and entirely too expensive for him to waste time on. His dam made better anyway.)

“You’re a dragon!” Harry exclaimed, cheeks flushing red with amazement.

“Yeah,” Ron said shyly. “Uhm, the scientific term is fire-drake. But yeah, dragon.”

“You would be amazing in camping trips,” Harry declared. “Have you ever had that?”

“No..?”

“Camping trips are supposed to be cold and filled with a lot of bugs. I can take care of the bugs and you can take care of the cold. And the marshmallows…” Harry sighed dreamily.

Ron’s eyes were wide and he was blushing. “Uhm, thanks.”

And Harry became part of his hoard. Not that he would ever tell anyone that, making sentients part of hoards was against the rules and having such a famous wizard as part of his hoard somehow made it difficult to call it small and negligible.

Hermione Granger pixie half-blood became part of his hoard when she’d clambered on top of a deranged mountain troll screaming in terror but still determined to save Harry’s life.

Ron watched the proceedings with wide eyes, half afraid to Change into his larger shape for fear of squashing something important and half determined to do it anyway, if only to keep his hoard alive.

“Let go of him!” she’d shrieked, pixie eyes going bright with anger but deceptively strong arms wrapping around the Trolls thick neck and squeezing anyway.

“Protection of the Seven – ah!” Harry yelped, clutching his staff for dear life. Apparently, being a world-famous wizard at birth meant nothing when he couldn’t remember anything at all for sheer terror.

“What do you need?” Ron asked Hermione loudly, knowing that the pixie had a plan. Ron didn’t mind asking her, his plans were long term and often took a long time to execute. Her plans were quick, fast and better for skirmishes like that.

“Get Harry down!” she yelled. Her hair was starting to crackle with lightning and Ron abruptly recalled that she’d said her sire had once been a hero and had swallowed a lightning strike. “I can’t concentrate like this.”

Manifesting his tail was infinitely easier than manifesting a hand or leg. It was safer too, less chances of collapsing the school. Their clutch were all large and collapsing something was a definite probability.

He grabbed Harry with some concentration and the wizard helped, hand releasing something that smelled like the crashing of the tides and made the troll yelp.

“You alright?” Ron asked, restraining the urge to sniff Harry just to make sure. Sniffing was bad etiquette, especially without asking.

“Fine,” Harry panted. “I hate being useless.”

Ron patted him. “You just panicked. It’s alright. Now, let’s see if we can rescue the troll from Hermione.” Ron hoarded Harry’s startled laugh.

Hermione definitely didn’t need rescuing. The troll smoked when they checked and her hair smoothed itself again. Her pixie eyes went back to its normal color and she jumped down delicately.

Both boys eyed her with varying degrees of trepidation.

“Well, that was simple. I wonder why I panicked in the first place,” she murmured.

Ron hoarded her smug smile and Harry’s indignant protests.

Having Hermione as a friend was infinitely better, because taking care of Harry Potter’s laughter was a full time job. One firedrake couldn’t do it alone.

Harry had the tendency to attract trouble, realize what he’d done wrong and then mope about it. It drove a dragon mad.

Hermione realized his problem by the third incident. Ron liked her immensely. She solved a lot of his worries for his hoard.

“You need to learn more about Magic and Creatures Harry or one day, you’d get eaten no matter how famous your line is,” Hermione declared, thumping a book of Creatures on top of Harry’s homework about protective barriers and ignoring Ron’s whimper of distress at the thought of his hoard being eaten.

Harry pouted. “It’s not my fault everyone expects me to just know not to pull a were-cats tail, or that it would be extremely rude to ask if they hack up hairballs after the full moon.”

Ron determinedly did not laugh. That had been a fun afternoon, playing chase with the pack of were-cats and keeping away from an angry McGonagall. In the end, Hermione had caught the both of them and reamed Harry out for not controlling his impulses and Ron for enabling him. (Ron adored her lectures, she was the only one in Hogwarts brave enough to lecture a dragon.)

“No, it’s not your fault that your Aunt is a bigot and pretends that the Other World doesn’t exist. It is your fault that you continue to be ignorant. Hogwarts houses the most comprehensive magical library in the world and you didn’t even bother to research!”

That, she had a point. Poor Harry hung his head and reached for the book. Ron frowned and patted his shoulder in a gesture of solidarity.

“If the book confuses you about dragons, you can ask me,” Ron said kindly. “A lot of things about dragons are wrong.”

Harry’s grateful look is another one for the hoard.

“If the book confuses you about pixies, don’t ask me,” Hermione said irritably. “I’m a half-pixie, half-human, half-god. It’s amazing I didn’t explode into stardust the moment I was born.”

Ron whined at her low in his throat, knowing she alone would hear. He didn’t like to hear anyone exploding. At all.

“Half-god?” Harry asked, looking up from the book with relief.

“My dad was a hero,” she explained. “And heroes have some of a god’s essence or something, after they get chosen. My dad’s supposed to belong to a fire god in the east, but he swallowed a lightning strike so his magic got confused. So he retired.”

“How did he marry your mother?” Ron asked, finally unloading a curiosity that had plagued him since he met her.

Pixies were vengeful, vicious creatures that held long grudges. They were small and minded their own business. They were also increasingly difficult to find, given that Voldemort had marched most of his undead army through their forest. (That was part of what decimated his army, given that the pixies had gotten angry at the army trampling on their houses.)

Heroes had adventures all over the place and often offended pixies.

They ought not to have married at all.

“She saved his life by accident,” Hermione said. “And he accidentally started a pixie courting ritual when he thanked her.”

Harry sighed dreamily. “Your family is amazing,” he said. “My mum was a witch, but my aunt was ordinary so she left the Other World. My dad apparently offended my uncle somehow, so they spent my entire life insisting I was crazy for seeing the Other World. It wasn’t until Hagrid came that I realized I wasn’t crazy, just different.”

Ron patted Harry again. It soothed his irritated feelings.

“Now, don’t keep stalling me, Harry Potter. Read the book,” she said firmly.

Harry sighed and went back to his book.

Dumbledore banned entry to the third floor corridor and Hermione’s curiosity went crazy. Harry’s too.

“Aren’t pixies supposed to not care about things that don’t concern them?” Ron asked, mostly to stall the pair from charging inside the room.

“Blame my father,” she answered, like all times she’d gone against a pixie’s habits. “Heroes are supposed to investigate curiosities, you know. And help people.”

Ron arched an eyebrow at Harry. “And what’s your excuse?”

Harry smiled sunnily, having finally caught on what made Ron relax. It didn’t help his gnawing sense of foreboding.

“I want to know,” he declared. “There’s something overwhelmingly magical hidden here and I want to know why. It’s keeps asking for my attention.”

Ron had felt that too, but he’s not the sort to hoard curiosities. Percy might have, but being Prefect might have distracted him too much.

With a sigh, Ron helped them open the door, Harry’s magic glowing a gentle green that made his eyes shine bright.

“Oh my gosh that’s a Cerberus!” Hermione squealed.

Ron wasn’t too intimidated, his other self was fairly larger than the Cerberus, but that was a lot of teeth. It was impressive.

“How do we put him to sleep?” Ron asked, mostly to himself. “All Cerberus have weaknesses.”

The Cerberus finally noticed the three of them and advanced. Hermione noticed first and grabbed their hands and dragged them to the door, closing it with finality.

“Let’s not do that again,” Hermione declared.

Ron tried not to be too outraged at the hypocrisy. He arched an eyebrow at her, hoping it conveyed how he felt.

Hermione blushed. “Sorry Ron.”

“We can ask Hagrid!” Harry said, finally showing some sense that he ought to have inherited from his witch of a mother. “He’s the beastmaster so he should know these things.

Hagrid did indeed know.

And he was such an awful liar that the trio didn’t even need Ron’s nose or Harry’s truth spell to know.

“So why is your Cerberus stuck in the third floor?” Hermione asked, eyes glinting.

“Not my Cerberus,” Hagrid tried to interrupt.

“So he’s stuck there and no one’s visiting?” Ron prodded, catching on.

“I bring him some cow every Sunday,” was the answer.

Ron hoped his face didn’t show his amusement. That was almost too easy. Harry had no such thought to the half-giant’s dignity and laughed. Hermione smirked with a pixie’s triumph, eyes glowing for a moment. Ron hoarded their smiles and laughter, and guiltily included Hagrid’s sighs too. It was a beautiful sound, if a bit unhappy one.

Hagrid sighed in defeat and answered.

“So the headmaster’s elf friend is taking a vacation and decided to leave his treasures inside Hogwarts,” Hermione summarized. “And the headmaster, in all his wisdom, realized that leaving it unguarded would be very bad.”

Ron snorted, inadvertently releasing a gust of smoke. “Hogwarts is secure, but it has too much traffic,” he said with scorn. “If you have to hide treasure, put it in a place where no one will die if you place lethal protection.”

Being a dragon, he knew how to defend hoards. Even if his wasn’t tangible, it was just instinct.

“Lethal protection?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side.

In reply, Ron showed his teeth.

Hermione huffed and Harry’s eyes went wide. Ron hoarded their lack of fear.

Rooming with a part dryad, part elf had its difficulties.

For one, when Neville had a nightmare, which he had often, his plants enveloped the room and removed all exits, basically making a cocoon.

This would be fine, since Ron liked closed spaces and he could burn his way through, if he wanted.

The problem was that Seamus was a Fire Sprite and tended to explode things when he was surprised or terrified.

And hurting a dryads plants was a big faux pas. Right up there with asking were-cats about hair balls.

Luckily, they had Harry, who was fast learning useful spells.

Also unluckily, they had Harry, whose spells tended to explode when he didn’t concentrate on it properly.

“You have to change our rooms, Professor McGonagall,” Ron said. He didn’t know what his face showed, but her eyes were a bit wide. He was serious though. He didn’t want to make his Harry cry, which he did when a spell exploded on him.

“I’ll see to removing Mr. Longbottom to the Green Dorms,” she said. “Where he should have been at the very beginning. Who did your room placements?”

Ron didn’t know, he just got it from the prefects.

Her nostrils flared and her eyes turned cat-yellow in irritation. “I will get to the bottom of this. And you should not have Harry rooming with you, he should be sleeping in the Magical dorms.”

This, Ron did not like. He straightened his back and raised his chin – a dragon defending his hoard.

“Do not remove him, he is bearable,” Ron said, archaic speech spilling out in his urgency. “I will thank you to not interfere with him.”

McGonagall sighed but Ron smelled her resignation and didn’t push the point.

To be continued

#fanfiction #hp #hermione granger #magical creatures #weasley family #au #magical creatures au #harry potter #ronald weasley #dragon au

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viralhottopics · 9 years ago

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‘Think about the bigger picture’: life lessons from Meryl Streep and other successful women

Theyve won Oscars, Pulitzers and Nobel peace prizes: eight women at the top of their game tell us how they got there

Meryl Streep has been nominated for more Academy Awards than any other actor, and has won for Kramer vs Kramer, Sophies Choice and The Iron Lady. In 2015, she sent every member of Congress a letter supporting a proposed amendment to the US constitution to mandate equal rights for women; the amendment was not passed

I didnt always want to be an actor. I thought I wanted to be a translator at the UN and help people understand each other. Some young people come into acting because they see it as glossy and heightened and more sort of divine than their existence; but what interests me is getting deep into someone elses life, to understand what compelled them to move in one direction or the other. That other stuff, Ive never liked. My mother used to say, People would give their right arm to walk down that red carpet. Enjoy it! You just cant change who you are.

Womens rights? Were going to keep talking about it until theres balance – Meryl Streep on equality

The influencers in our industry are overwhelmingly men: the critics, the directors branch of the Academy. If they were overwhelmingly female, there would be a hue and cry about it. Women have 17% of the influence, more or less, in every part of the decision-making process in the industry and, inevitably, thats going to decide what kind of films are made. But the material that comes to me is still interesting. Im 67, so mostly I get things for people that age, and there are wonderful projects that would never have existed even 10 years ago. Twenty years ago, I would have been playing witches and crones.

Going from job to job, never knowing where the next one would be, has allowed me to spend time with my four kids more than if Id worked at a desk job. Thats a really tough gig, and I dont know if I could have had four kids and done that. Decisions I made in my career were not always based on aesthetic criteria: was it near, was it going to be shot in the vacation? You make all sorts of compromises in order to have this other thing that you value. My girls and my son and my husband are all way too much in each others business, I would say, but were close and thats important. I always tried to stay challenged and work hard, but also keep my hand in and stir the pot at home.

I spent far too much time when I was younger thinking about how much I weighed. If I could go back, Id say, Think about the bigger picture. Of course, its a visual medium. We think about our looks. I dont bring a suitcase with my dossier in it to an audition, I bring my body, so you cant moan about the fact that youre judged on your looks: its showbusiness. But the other thing is that youre representing lives, and lives look all different ways and shapes. Thats one thing I do see changing, and its really good. It makes the cultural landscape richer.

Nimco Ali, co-founder of Daughters of Eve. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Nimco Ali was born in Somalia. She is the co-founder, with Leyla Hussein, of Daughters of Eve, a non-profit organisation that supports young women from communities that practise female genital mutilation (FGM)

I had FGM as a seven-year-old, and later saw girls going through it, but I didnt join the conversation. Then I started to see my silence as complicity. Around 2010, I moved to London and came across people working around FGM, but I couldnt see what they were trying to achieve. I wanted to educate people, yes, but this isnt a question of ignorance; its organised crime. I got together with Leyla, and we started to do more with MPs.

I want to place the responsibility in the hands of the state. Ive seen community work being done for years, and it doesnt work. Its not up to communities to police themselves. People were saying, How can mothers allow this? but I was saying, How can you, as a citizen of this country, know a five-year-old is about to be cut and stand by because youre afraid to offend her community? Youre telling that child she doesnt matter.

It was early 2011 when I first said, Im Nimco and Im an FGM survivor. A lot of people were shocked. But I didnt want to be treated with sympathy: I wanted to talk about survivors, not victims, and I wanted to prevent it.

First came redefining FGM with the Home Office as an act of violence; then defining it as child abuse. It was a way of saying to these girls, Youre British and we care about you as much as anyone else. My vagina is British; it doesnt have a different passport.

The first time my picture appeared in a newspaper, I had death threats. I stayed in bed for two days, wondering, Is it worth it? But then I felt guilty. If a girl goes through infibulation and then disappears, we never find out. If something happens to me, at least someone will know.

Having friends I can talk to has been an immense help. A girl came up to me on the tube and said, Are you Nimco, the girl who talks about FGM? And I thought, This is where I get spat on. But she wanted to thank me.

I dont think of myself as a leader, but as part of a chain. If it wasnt for all the amazing women who came before me, I wouldnt be able to do any of it.

Samantha Power, US ambassador to the United Nations. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Samantha Power moved to the US from Ireland when she was nine. Her first book, A Problem From Hell: America And The Age Of Genocide, won a Pulitzer prize. In 2013, she was made US ambassador to the United Nations

I had recently graduated from university in 1992 when I saw images in the New York Times of bone-thin stick figures in camps in the former Yugoslavia images I didnt think one could see in the 90s. I wanted to help, but didnt have any skills. I had been a sports reporter in college, so I decided to try my luck at being a war correspondent. It was a bit of a crazy idea, but a lot of young people were doing the same thing, because they felt horrified and powerless.

Im not great at languages, but Im great at talking, and my stubborn desire to communicate with people got me to the point where I could do interviews in the local language. I wrote about my experience, and looked at why the US did what it did when faced with genocide in the 20th century. One key conclusion was how hard it was to effect change. But it still felt as though no other organisation could make an impact like the US government. It seemed to me it would be more efficient to be inside the government than on the outside, throwing darts.

These werent steps on a conventional path, and my advice to young people would be not to decide on a job title and script a path toward it, but to develop your interests go deep instead of wide.

Ive tried to inject individual stories into everything I do: real faces and real people. Empowering women to get involved in government and diplomacy brings a different set of perspectives, which benefits everyone. This isnt a theory, its a fact: according to the UN, womens participation increases the probability of peace deals lasting 15 years by 35%.

My son was born in 2009 and my daughter in 2012, and I hope, as a result of this job, theyll be more empathetic, more globally curious. My son is a big baseball fan, as am I, and when Im finished, were going to travel the US and see a game in each of the different ballparks. I hope to make up for some of the lost time.

Mhairi Black MP. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Mhairi Black is the SNP MP for Paisley and Renfrewshire South. In 2015, aged 20, she became the youngest British MP since 1667. Her maiden speech in the Commons had 11m views online

I was brought up in Paisley: it was Mum, Dad, my older brother and me. We used to go on caravan holidays to the north of Scotland. My mums mum had 13 children, so I had lots of cousins to play with.

Our family has always been politically aware: my grandparents were involved in trade unions and Mum and Dad were teachers. When I was eight, my parents, brother, aunties and I marched against the Iraq war in Glasgow. Tony Blair was in town for the Labour party conference, but apparently he got word of the march, so, by the time we were marching past the building hed disappeared in a helicopter. I remember finding that really unfair, even at eight.

Inequality of any kind is the thing that drives me. I always look at who is losing out, and why. Everything I am interested in boils down to the fact that theres an injustice happening somewhere.

When the independence referendum was announced, I was a yes voter, and I thought, if there was ever a time to join a political party, its now. After we lost the referendum, a couple of folk in the local SNP party were saying I should put my name forward to be a candidate, and I said, Dont be daft. Im 20. What do I know about life? I was giving myself the sort of criticism that other people give me now. People in the constituency started challenging me, saying, Why is that a bad thing? Surely parliament should represent everybody. And I thought, Thats a good point. OK, Ill go through the vetting process and see if I pass.

I had no idea what to do after university, but I think its good to try things and, if youre good at them, keep going and see how far you get. Mum and Dad taught my brother and me to have confidence in ourselves, but never arrogance theres a fine line. Confidence comes from giving yourself credit when its due. My parents always said that as long as you know your stuff and you know what it is youre going for and why, and if youve practised hard and think youre good enough, then, by all means, stand up and make sure youre counted.

Ill be happy if, in five years time, I can say, The place I am representing has been better represented than it ever was before.

I think part of the problem with politics has been people viewing it as a career. You shouldnt be in it in order to become first minister. It has to be for a purpose, and it has to be in the present.

Tavi Gevinson, editor-in-chief of Rookie magazine. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Tavi Gevinson is a writer, actor and editor-in-chief of the online magazine Rookie, which she launched aged 15

People talk about how the internet can make us less connected, but there are also people who cant find that connection to others elsewhere, whether at school or in marginalised communities. With Rookie, I want to create a place where you can make real friendships.

My mother is an artist, and when I was little we were always making stuff, so there was never any fear around creating different things pictures, outfits. I would get home from school, grab the camera and tripod, go into the back yard and just do it. This was way before people could make a living out of fashion blogs.

When I was 13, and living in Oak Park, Illinois, my Style Rookie blog gave me access to a world I would not otherwise have had access to no way would I have been able to see a fashion show without that.

I was OK with challenging people, and I didnt mind if people didnt like my outfits. Fashion has a bad rap, about being shallow, about pleasing men, so I was happy I was wearing unfashionable, bizarre outfits celebrating fashion, but not some beautiful, sexualised model.

On many of the fashion blogs I read, women talked about feminism freely. It felt like a movement of the past, but I realised I had been a feminist before I ever identified as one.

After a series of false starts, I started talking on my blog about what an honest magazine for teen girls would look like. There are people whose jobs are to figure out how teenagers feel; I thought Id go straight to the source not so they could be targeted by marketing companies, but so that young people could have a network.

Ive done my job if people are inspired or entertained or feel more OK with themselves after seeing something on Rookie. We never tell people how to think or feel; we want to tell our readers they already have all the answers. If you want to do something, just do it! You can start 80 new lives if you want. You have to try, and be open and excited about failure, because it teaches you a lot.

Dame Athene Donald. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Dame Athene Donald is professor of experimental physics at the University of Cambridge and master of Churchill College

When I was at school, girls werent expected to have careers. I assumed that after university, Id get a job and then get married. I say to those who are setting out now, its fine not to know what you want to do.

I got married when I was doing my PhD. My husband had a couple of fellowships, but I was the one who got the permanent position. He stopped working for a long time, although it wasnt necessarily what he wanted to do. We have two children, now grown up. I have always been uncomfortable being held up as the woman who has done it all: I know what costs were involved. You do need to marry the right person. I think there is still a presumption that childcare is the womans problem; its not, its the couples problem.

There were subtle gender-stereotyping pressures against physics when I was young. Nowadays, numerous initiatives encourage more girls into science. Its a question of constantly pushing back against the idea that girls do certain things and boys do other things.

At times, I still feel in the minority. I sat on one very high-level committee chaired by a man who addressed the group as gentlemen, even though two of us were women. I later wrote to him, pointing out the discourtesy; he replied that it was just the terminology he was used to it didnt mean anything. The next time he did it, though, one of the men pulled him up and he never did it again. That was probably more effective than if Id made a fuss there and then.

Our intake of women to men is nothing like 50:50, and I would very much like to improve the ratio. We already do an enormous amount of outreach, and I blog and Im on Twitter, because it enables me to reach more people.

Its hugely important to remind the government how much science matters to the economy. We dont have North Sea oil any more, and the banking industry is falling to pieces. Science and engineering are at the heart of our capacity to innovate and grow.

Ava DuVernay, film director. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Ava DuVernay is a film director, screenwriter and founder of distribution company Array. Her 2014 film Selma, about Martin Luther King, was nominated for a best picture Academy Award

I didnt grow up around artists, and I dont come from a family of artists. When I graduated from college I got into film publicity, but I never thought I could be the film-maker. Then I found myself on many sets, and started to believe I could do it, too.

I like that independence that comes from doing things for yourself, and doing them well. Editing, directing, producing, financing, distributing and publicising my own first films gave me a grasp of the process.

In the early parts of making Selma, I didnt believe it was going to happen, even as I was making it. My father is from Montgomery, Alabama, which is very close to Selma, so I knew the place and had a handle on that time in history. I started telling the story and, before I knew it, it was in movie theatres. It was so fast, I never had a chance to think, Oh my gosh, can I do this? I just thought, Im going to keep going until someone tells me to stop.

As a black woman film-maker there isnt a lot of support there arent many of us around so instead of not doing something, I figure out a way to do it without support. As you start to create your own work, you attract help from like-minded people; you can never attract it if youre sitting still.

The landscape has changed since I started my distribution company in 2010; we have Netflix, Amazon, all these streaming platforms. Its an incredible time to be an artist, especially for those who had been left behind. I find it very exciting to think, Im not going to continue knocking on that old door that doesnt open for me; Im going to create my own door and walk through that.

I always say: work without permission. So many of us work from a permission-based place, waiting for someone to say its OK. So often I hear people asking, How do I get started? You just start. It wont be perfect. Itll be messy and itll be hard, but youre on your way.

Leymah Gbowee, peace activist. Photograph: Brigitte Lacombe

Leymah Gbowee is a Liberian peace activist. In 2002, angered by the civil war, the then 30-year-old social worker and mother of four (she now has seven children) organised a march on the capital, with a sit-in that lasted months, leading President Charles Taylor to agree to peace talks. The womens actions led to the removal of Taylor and the inauguration of Africas first female president, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, with whom Gbowee shared the Nobel peace prize in 2011

I was 17 when the civil war started. I had just finished high school and was planning to be a doctor, but the war upended everything. I did a three-month social work course, because that seemed the most immediate way to help. In time, I worked with former child soldiers. I was in one village when the government sent in a truck to abduct children and teach them how to use AK47s. I was with the mothers, watching their children being taken.

By 1998 I had met activists from Sierra Leone who claimed that women could change things, but it was only when I began to work with the wives of ex-combatants that I saw what they meant. The ex-soldiers were often very violent and angry, but their wives stood up to them.

There was a lot of work to do to create a movement that would have some impact: it took us two and a half years. The important thing was that we had no political agenda: we had a shared vision for peace. We were there because we cared about our families.

In 2002 we marched on the capital, Monrovia. There were thousands of us. When we started a sex strike, it became a huge story, and an opportunity for us to talk about peace. Then, when it was clear that nothing was coming of the peace talks in Ghana, we went to the hotel where they were being held and said we would disrobe. This horrified people: to see a married or elderly woman deliberately bare herself is thought to bring down a terrible curse.

We were able to use things that were ours our empathy, the ways we are perceived to make the men listen. It is important we understand our strengths, because in war, the rape and abuse of women and children are seen as ways to demoralise the enemy, to show them they are unable to take care of their families.

It is no longer an option for women to say, Im not a politician. We need to up our game. The age-old excuse has been that we cant find the good women. It is time for the good women to step up.

Extracted from The Female Lead, published next month by Penguin at 30. To order a copy for 25.50, go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846.