Emotions of women: Paralysis of soul
By Winnie Lee
The emotions of women often get considerably mixed up. Sometimes fear, anger, hate and grief are so combined that they nullify each other, and result in a kind of paralysis such as man never knows.
Two letters came to me in today’s mail which serve as illustrations. They are both interesting, but not altogether pleasant.
They are the complaints of wives, protests of women who are helpless because they are without hope. And I wish that these were the first of their kind I had ever received. One letter is the naive confession of a young woman who does not seem to realize that her marriage license was, to her husband, the same thing as a deed of property.
“My husband is 15 years my senior, and I am 23,” writes a lonely wife. “We have been married five years, but have no children, only a handsome home. And my husband is always kind and good, but I think I am neglected!
“He stays out every night until after 12, and sometimes later. His work keeps him until 8. No, he doesn’t come home intoxicated — no, never — but, at 1 or 2 in the morning, he expects me to get up and fix a little lunch for him and to talk pleasantly. “He doesn’t like me to go out in the evening; says it’s not proper for a woman to be out evenings alone; still he never takes me out.
“He makes an enormous salary, $400 a month, and he gives me all I can possibly want in the way of clothes and fine food.
“He doesn’t like me to have any company; he says women all talk too much.
“He forgets that he has a home, until he wants a place to rest. Please don’t think that I am cross. If I was, he’d stay away until I got over it. Can you tell me how to solve this problem: How can I make him come home?”
The writer, being only 23, cannot be supposed to know that a woman cannot teach a man close to 40 anything! He has arrived at the most forceful period of his life, probably. The world, and its affairs, and the interests of men hold him. Later he will awaken to the needs of his wife as a human being. Meantime, she would better join the suffragists, or a bridge club, or study languages. She will have time to acquire several of them before he reforms; or perhaps she can invent a workable theory for the comfort and solace of neglected wives.
The next letter is from a woman less fortunate in material things, but better provided for in the way of an engrossing occupation: the care of her children.
“I am a woman married 11 years and have one child. I do my duty in every way that I can see. And I have often asked my husband that if I fail, he must tell me in what way,” writes DESPAIR.
“He does find fault with me, he does criticize me, but he never tells me where I fall short, nor what is the matter. I am at my housework or my sewing week in and week out. I never can take the child or go to a picture show. Even on Saturday, if I go down town to look around, I never hear the end of it.
“But my husband never gets home one night in a month before 7, though his work is done at half past 5. I would never dare say anything about it, though. As it is, I live through his moods, moods, moods, as best I can. Don’t you think it would be sensible for me to take my child and leave him? Eleven years more of this would drive any woman crazy.
“Please tell me what to do.”
Society, with the entire approval and co-operation of woman, has so long protected man in his sins by a cover of silence, that it is considered hardly polite to speak of such a disagreeable incident as wife-beating.