“They sen’ yo’ down here once, an’ then yo’ come out without a cent, and try to look fo’ a job, an’ befo’ yo’ can fin’ one a cop walks up an’ asks yo’ whah yo’ live, an’ ef yo’ haven’t got a place yet, becaus’ yo’ ain’ got a cent to ren’ one with, he says, ‘Come with me, I’ll fin’ yo’ a home,’ an’ hustles yo’ off to the p’lice station an’ down heah again, an’ you’re called a 4vag’ (vagrant). What chance has we niggahs got, I ask ya? I hopes yo’ all gits a vote an’ fixes up somethings for women!”
“You see that young girl over there?” said another prisoner, who in spite of an unfortunate life had kept a remnant of her early beauty. I nodded.
“Well, Judge Mullowny gave her thirty days for her first offense, and when he sentenced her, she cried out desperately, ‘Don’t send me down there, Judge! If you do, I’ll kill myself!’ What do you think he said to that?—‘I’ll give you six months in which to change your mind!’’
I reflected. The judge that broke this pale-faced, silent girl was the appointee of the President. It was the task of such a man to sentence American women to the workhouse for demanding liberty.
Conversing with the “regulars” was forbidden by the wardress, but we managed, from time to time, to talk to our fellow prisoners with stealthiness.
“We knew somethin’ was goin’ to happen,” said one negro girl, “because Monday the close we had on wer’ took off us an’ we were giv’ these old patched ones. We wuz told they wanted to take ‘stock,’ but we heard they wuz bein’ washed fo’ you-all suff’agettes.”
The unpleasantness at wearing the formless garments of these unfortunates made us all wince. But the government’s calculation aroused our hot indignation. We were not convicted until Tuesday and our prison garments were ready Monday!
“You must not speak against the President,” said the servile wardress, when she discovered we were telling our story to the inmates. “You know you will be thrashed if you say anything more about the President; and don’t forget you’re on Government property and may be arrested for treason if it happens again.”
We doubted the seriousness of this threat of thrashing until one of the girls confided to us that such outrages happened often. We afterward obtained proof of these brutalities.[1]
[1] See affidavit of Mrs. Bovee, page 144.