It was the eighties. Madonna was on the radio, Thatcher was in number 10, and I had a mum working full time. In my world women ran the show.
To then discover that just 60 years earlier women couldn't even vote blew my mind.
I was from that point onward an avowed feminist.
It seemed the least I could do given that women had fought and died to give others like me the right to express ourselves democratically.
The suffragette Emily Wilding Davison - who died after throwing herself under the Kings horse at the Epson Derby - was buried in my hometown of Morpeth.
She became my chosen subject when a couple of years later I was called on to give a speech about the area in which I lived.
The fact no one really knew if she meant to die or just raise awareness of the cause did nothing to dim my teenage ardour. I thought she was an impossibly romantic heroine.
Visiting her grave I vowed always to vote.
Fast forward to 2018 and filming a piece about her impact, I found myself back at the spot I made that teenage pledge, feeling proud that I have kept it.
Come rain or shine, whether in the UK or working abroad I have always managed to vote.
Since having children I have dragged them along too… keen to instil in them the importance of this slightly odd act in a draughty municipal hall.
To me it feels like a moral duty.
:: Were the suffragettes terrorists?
I know others will disagree. They are disillusioned with politics; feel the system is broken, and that their vote doesn't make a difference.
I can understand their view, but it still angers me.
In so many parts of the world the vote is still denied to so many. We are so lucky to be able to participate in democracy. However flawed our system may be - it is at least one we can complain about equally at the ballot box.
It turns out there may have been another reason Emily Wilding Davison's story captivated me.
It seems we are distantly related through marriage. My great, great, great uncle William Caisley, was also her uncle.
Maureen Howes -who lives in Morpeth - is a genealogist and family historian.
She was thrilled to help me piece together the family link, but is also exasperated that Emily Wilding Davison's actions have not been given greater prominence over the years.
But locally the suffragette is still something of a folk hero.
Visiting the King Edward IV school in the town I asked a group of sixth form girls what they knew of her. Each was clear on what she had done, and when I asked them to show if they considered themselves to be feminists, every one raised their hand.
They were an articulate, bright, and confident bunch. Proud of what women before them had achieved and excited about their own futures. But many said they felt there was still a long way to go before true equality was achieved.
I imagine Emily Wilding Davison would have been thrilled to hear them speak about the opportunities that lie ahead for them.
She herself gained a first class honours degree in English from Oxford in 1895, but was not granted the award because at that time universities did not give degrees to women.
She obviously never lived to see women vote in the UK. It was five years after she died that some women were granted the right and 15 years later that universal suffrage was declared.
I have voted for many different people and parties since I earned the right to vote at 18, but whoever my cross in the box was for, it is for women like Emily Wilding Davison that I have always made my mark.