Marriage as a Trade | Page 8

selected his profession with an eye to our own interests; he
was at various times a missionary, a sailor and a circus-rider; but from
the first we recognized that he was unavoidable. We planned our lives
and knew that he was lurking vaguely in the background to upset our
best-laid calculations. We were still very young, I think, when we
realized that his shadowy personality was an actual, active factor in our
lives; that it was because of him and his surmised desires that our
turbulent inclinations were thwarted and compressed into narrow
channels, and that we were tamed and curbed as the boys were never
tamed and curbed. When that which the boys might do with impunity
was forbidden to us as a sin of the first water, we knew that it was
because he would not like it. The thought was not so consciously
expressed, perhaps; but it was there and lived with us. So we grew up
under his influence, presuming his wishes, and we learned, because of
him, to say, "I can't," where our brothers said "I can," and to believe, as
we had been taught, that all things, save a very few (such as ordering
dinner and keeping house) were not for us because we were not men.
(Yet we had our long, long thoughts -- we had them, too!) That was one
thing that he desired we should believe; and another was that only
through him could we attain to satisfaction and achievement; that our
every desire that was not centred upon him and upon his children
would be barren and bitter as Dead Sea ashes in the mouth. We
believed that for a long time . . . .
And he was certain to come: the only question was, when? When he
came we should fall in love with him, of course -- and he would kiss us
-- and there would be a wedding . . . .
Some of us -- and those not a few -- started life equipped for it after this

fashion; creatures of circumstance who waited to be fallen in love with.
That was indeed all; we stood and waited -- on approval. And then
came life itself and rent our mother's theories to tatters. For we
discovered -- those of us, that is, who were driven out to work that we
might eat -- we discovered very swiftly that what we had been told was
the impossible was the thing we had to do. That and no other. So we
accomplished it, in fear and trembling, only because we had to; and
with that first achievement of the impossible the horizon widened with
a rush, and the implanted, hampering faith in our own poor parasitic
uselessness began to wither at the root and die. We had learned to say,
"I can." And as we went on, at first with fear and then with joy, from
impossibility to impossibility, we looked upon the world with new
eyes.
To no man, I think, can the world be quite as wonderful as it is to the
woman now alive who has fought free. Those who come after her will
enter by right of birth upon what she attains by right of conquest;
therefore, neither to them will it be the same. The things that to her
brother are common and handed down, to her are new possessions,
treasured because she herself has won them and no other for her. It may
well be that she attaches undue importance to these; it could scarcely be
otherwise. Her traditions have fallen away from her, her standard of
values is gone. The old gods have passed away from her, and as yet the
new gods have spoken with no very certain voice. The world to her is
in the experimental stage. She grew to womanhood weighed down by
the conviction that life held only one thing for her; and she stretches
out her hands to find that it holds many. She grew to womanhood
weighed down by the conviction that her place in the scheme of things
was the place of a parasite; and she knows (for necessity has taught her)
that she has feet which need no support. She is young in the enjoyment
of her new powers and has a pleasure that is childish in the use of them.
By force of circumstances her faith has been wrested from her and the
articles of her new creed have yet to be tested by experience -- her own.
Her sphere -- whatever it may prove to be -- no one but herself can
define for her. Authority to her is a broken reed. Has she not heard and
read solemn disquisitions by men of science on the essential limitations
of woman's nature