Feminism -- Fiction; Sex role -- Fiction; Women's rights -- Fiction
I looked ahead with my mind’s eye and see them pretty college girls
settled down in pleasant homes of their own, where sanitary laws
prevailed, where the babies wuzn’t fed pickles and cabbage, and kep’ in
air-tight enclosures. Where the husbands did not have to go outside
their own homes to find cheer and comfort, and intelligent
conversation, and where Love and Common Sense walked hand in hand
toward Happiness and Contentment, Justice, with her blinders offen her
eyes, goin’ ahead on ’em. I never liked the idee of Justice wearin’
them bandages over her eyes. She ort to have both eyes open; if anybody
ever needed good eyesight she duz, to choose the straight and narrer
road, lookin’ backward to see the mistakes she has made in the past,
so’s to shun ’em in the future, and lookin’ all round her in the
present to see where she can help matters, and lookin’ fur off in the
future to the bright dawn of a Tomorrow. To the shinin’ mount of Equal
Rights and full Liberty. Where she sees men and wimmen standin’ side by
side with no halters or hamperin’ hitchin’ straps on either on ’em. He
more gentle and considerate, and she less cowardly and emotional.
Good land! what could Justice do blind in one eye and wimmen on the
blind side? But good sensible wimmen are reachin’ up and pullin’ the
bandages offen her eyes. She’s in a fair way to git her eyesight. But
I’m eppisodin’, and to resoom forward.
VIII.
“OLD MOM NATER LISTENIN’”
There wuz some pleasant talkin’ and jokin’ between bystanders and
suffragettes, and then some good natured but keen and sensible
speeches. And one pretty speaker told about the doin’s at Albany and
Washington. How women’s respectful pleas for justice are treated there.
How the law-makers, born and nussed by wimmen and dependent on ’em for
comfort and happiness, use the wimmen’s tax money to help make laws
makin’ her of no legal importance only as helpless figgers to hang
taxation and punishment on.
Old Mom Nater had been listenin’ clost, her sky-blue eyes shinin’ with
joy to see her own sect present such a noble appearance in the parade.
But when these insults and indignities wuz brung up to her mind agin
and she realized afresh how wimmen couldn’t git no more rights accorded
to her than a dog or a hen, and worse. For a hen or a dog wouldn’t be
taxed to raise money for turkle soup and shampain to nourish the
law-makers whilst they made the laws agin ’em—Mom Nater’s eyes clouded
over with indignation and resentment, and she boo-hooed right out
a-cryin’. Helpless tears, of no more account than other females have
shed, and will, as they set on their hard benches with idiots,
lunaticks, and criminals.
Of course she wiped up her tears pretty soon, not willin’ to lose any
of the wimmen’s bright speeches. But when her tear-drops fell fast,
Josiah sez to me, “You’ll see them wimmen run like hikers now, wimmen
always thought more of shiffon and fol-de-rols than they did of
principle.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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