How few there are who understand (even in part) the
importance of the position they occupy, and for which they were specially
created, and strive to preserve their own identity, their own individuality by
being real; it is a very simple, common-place word yet it comprises so much.
What man who possesses pure, manly instincts, but in his
heart were he left free to choose, untrammeled by worldly traditions and
distinction, would prefer a real woman to an artificial one; one who would be content
to fill a home-sphere, proud and happy in the consciousness of being really
worthy her husband’s love and esteem.
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| Merle De Vore Johnson, 1909 "Woman's Sphere" |
Every day we hear it repeated, “a stylish woman,” “a
magnificent woman,” “a superior woman,” “a literary woman,” or “a strong-minded
woman.” A hundred and one adjectives are applied to the sex, but whoever stops
to think of the Real Woman—the real living help? She who quietly, without
ostentation or parade, fulfills the small, home-duties, cheerfully, patiently,
heroically and hopefully, unknown save to those who constitute her own
immediate circle, and often unappreciated even there: She has not wealth
perhaps, or even a superior education, but if she has strong common sense, and
an active mind, she is just as capable of filling her mission here, and of
standing in her own real place hereafter, as though she was a favorite of
fortune or the idol of the people.
One of the popular writers of the present days says “Man is
what woman makes him;” and I would kindly beg to add, “women are what men have
made them.” A quiet, unpretending domestic woman is a nobody nowadays, in the
sight of the world. A woman feels compelled to distinguish herself in some way
or other, in order to elicit even the smallest share of attention from these
would be “Lords of Creation.” In the estimation of her own husband, (if she
happens to be favored with one,) she is simply a necessity in his
establishment, to manage his house, to cook his dinner, to attend to his
wardrobe, always on hand if she is wanted and always out of sight when not
needed. He doesn’t mind kissing her occasionally, when it suits him; but he
never thinks she has any thoughts of her own, any ideas which might be
developed; she must not have even an opinion, or if she has she mustn’t express
it, it is entirely out of place; she is a subject, not a joint-partner in the
domestic firm.
If men are really superior to women, let them show
themselves so; prove themselves “pre-eminent,” “akin to God.” This is what a
real woman craves; something worthy of reverence, or worship even, second only
to her Creator. But failing to find this, she betakes herself to other things,
finding no superiority in her “Lord and master” nor even acknowledgement of
wifely duties, she seeks for happiness through another channel easier of
attainment. If a woman is real enough to let her husband know she is devotedly
attached to him, in nine cases out of then, he only makes use of it to her
disadvantage; consequently it has become general among women to advise each
other to disguise their real feelings, afraid to acknowledge them out of
policy.
Where can be the real happiness, the one-ness? Is not this
teaching women to be false to their own hearts?
Man, with all his boasted knowledge, and practical skill in
reading character, is still in comparative ignorance of how women feel, or what
they are. He regards them as toys, to be picked up and cast aside at will; very
well for pastime playthings, or for housekeepers; but to consider them real,
genuine, rational beings, is a novel idea; they are vain, frivolous, fickle
deceitful, incapable of performing any important part in life creditably.
I must acknowledge the real genuine article is hard to find,
in this enlightened nineteenth century; but shall we succumb to this foul
aspersion upon our sex? Shall we or content with a false life, a counterfeit? Shall
we be real women? We Latter-day Saints, who profess to aspire to something
purer, higher, nobler and better than the world? We are seeking to understand ourselves,
our own organization, our own individual life; making a real use of our time,
having a real purpose in all that we do, n all that we say, living a real life;
laying up real treasures in the kingdom of heaven; not copying the fashions of
the world, or their manners, but improving for ourselves, guided and directed
by the best talent, judgment and skill we possess. It is very easy to copy,
there is nothing real in that, not even a freshness about it, it is only imitation;
like the silly school-girl, who, too idle to exercise her own dormant
faculties, copies from her class-mate’s slate, forgetting it will be of no
benefit to her in future; it serves her purpose for the time being, it is sham,
she passes it off for real information.
Let us be more cautious—let us know for ourselves—that will
make us real. We shall then be better equaled to accomplish that we are
striving to attain to, not following a shadow, or a phantom, but that which is
real; a real Gospel, which will elevate, refine and purify, bringing us back
into the real presence, of Him whose aim and design, in our creation, was to
make us real women.
Emmeline B. Wells, Dec 13th 1873
