Elizabeth Partridge graduated with a degree in Women's Studies from the University of California at Berkeley, and later studied traditional Chinese medicine. She was an acupuncturist for more than twenty years before closing her medical practice to write full-time.

Elizabeth is the acclaimed author of more than a dozen books, including Marching to Freedom: Walk Together, Children, and Don’t You Grow Weary, as well as biographies of Dorothea Lange, Woody Guthrie, and John Lennon. Her books have received many honors, including National Book Award Finalist, Boston Globe-Horn Book Award, Los Angeles Times Book Prize, Michael L. Printz Honor, SCBWI Golden Kite Award, SLJ's Battle of the Books, and the Jane Addams Children's Book Award.

Elizabeth is on the core  faculty at the Vermont College of Fine Arts, MFA in Writing for Children & Young Adults.

Elizabeth Partridge.jpg

My Story

Growing up in a bohemian San Francisco family of photographers, I was surrounded by photographs. They were pinned up on the walls, scattered across tables, drip-drying from clotheslines strung outside darkrooms. The power and beauty of photography was laid into the matrix of my bones.

My grandmother, Imogen Cunningham, turned her camera on ordinary street scenes, and beautiful, everyday things – her unmade bed, a luminescent magnolia blossom.

betsy2.jpg

Dorothea Lange, my godmother, photographed the down-and-out as they struggled to hold on to their dignity in the face of tremendous adversity. She wanted her photos to stir observers into action, to encourage them to work for political and social change.

My dad, Rondal Partridge, focused on pollution, and the paradoxical, quirky way we live. All of them taught me to see, really see, the world around me, and the wonderful, difficult complexities of human nature. Dorothea’s work affected me the most deeply. “The good photograph is not the object, the consequences of the photograph are the object,” Dorothea explained. “So that no one would say, ‘how did you do it, where did you find it’, but they would say, ‘that such things could be.’”

There are tremendous pleasures to being raised in a family full of artists. Life is never boring. My parents thought nothing of piling all five of us kids and the two dogs into our second hand 1949 Cadillac limousine and camping from coast to coast. School was fairly optional, so were shoes and shirts.

Some nights I fell asleep to chamber music as my parents’ symphony friends played in the living room. Life was also contradictory and unpredictable. My mother insisted we put the milk in a pitcher on the dinner table, and every other Saturday I polished the enormous pile of silverware my mother had inherited.

Sometimes money ran out. My parents scrambled, borrowed, traded, made do. Food was basic, and in lean times, sparse. Hand me down clothes were the norm. I was both proud of my family and acutely aware of being different. At times, I longed for my father to put on a suit and go to a regular job like other fathers did. But nobody ever said “you can’t” to me. In the freeform swirl, we were always encouraged to become whoever we wanted to be.

With plenty of work-study hours and scholarships (thank you), I was the first woman to graduate in Women’s Studies from UC Berkeley. Then I was off to Oxford, England to study acupuncture. In the late seventies I was among the first acupuncturists to be licensed in California. For more than twenty years I saw patients, and my husband and I raised two curious, smart, funny boys.

While I was practicing Chinese medicine, I started writing books. For more than ten years, I had two careers, finally closing my medical practice to write full-time. I love writing picture book manuscripts. It’s a thrill to watch them spring to life under the hands of an illustrator. With my young adult biographies, I’m fascinated by people who use their creative skills to make a difference in the world. I’ve done books on photographer Dorothea Lange, and musicians Woody Guthrie and John Lennon.

When I look at my book list, I see Dorothea’s influence on me. I want young adults to know these intense, creative people who a found a place for themselves, and a way to bear witness. As Dorothea said of her Japanese American internment photos: “This is what we did. How did it happen? How could we?”

These amazing people I’ve written about are inspiring. I hope they will ignite the creative, brave, idealistic energy young adults have, and let them know: they too can make a difference in our crazy, turbulent world.