To-day those women stand between us and chaos. A slender cordon of hope, they are holding back the surging multitude of unrest. Their men have ceased to believe in any method of getting justice except by violence.
What are we going to do?—measure up to the working-woman’s faith in us, come out of our nests as cooties and, taking our place at her side as we did during the war, do our share of the work. Or are we going to remain human cooties, let that cordon of hope crumble, be swept away?
There is one thing as certain as the rising of the sun. If we do not give, it will be taken from us.
Were I a girl growing up to-day I would demand of my parents an equal chance with my brother. If he was given his training—for trade or profession—I would have mine—trade or profession. I would insist on my obligations as a citizen, a future voter, to learn the condition and the needs of my country.
How can a girl vote intelligently if she spends her days debating on how high she can wear her skirt, or how low she can cut her camisole? That time is passed. We must either keep step with progress or be swept away by the class of women who have learned the lesson that we refused to be taught.
Only motherhood—bearing and caring for a living child—should excuse a woman from working for her living.
Transcriber’s Note
Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original.