The working girl is stepping out of the most intimate, the most

mutually conscious type of family life that exists, that of humble

people. This old patriarchal family has a strength and an intensive

character that other families lack. Exceptions to the type in no way

alter the general rule. The father is an unremitting toiler but his

pleasures are centered in the home and the family. The mother is the

disburser of the weekly income handed to her intact in the Saturday

night envelope. Her power and influence are supreme as long as the

family holds together. The children early absorb the traditional ideas

of the parents undiluted by the variations presented to families of

larger income where tutors, dancing instructors and music teachers

share or supersede the parents’ care. There is thus built up a solid

structure of tradition, interdependence and loyalty with which the

family life of other economic groups cannot compare. This structure,

seemingly almost absolutely firm, is undergoing under modern city

conditions a strain never met before, and the family is not holding

its own. What cause is at work to alter the ancient type? Undoubtedly

the breakup is a byproduct of the industrial revolution. Many of the

old duties and opportunities of women have been taken from them. The

introduction of a greater variety of diet involving less cooking, the

greater simplicity in decoration involving less cleaning, the communal

care of garbage, the central system of heating and lighting, the

cheapness of ready-made clothing, all these changes have lessened the

burden of housework and to a certain extent have freed the housewife

from drudgery. The care of children is increasingly being taken over by

the community with its kindergartens, its public schools, its parks,

its recreation centers, its nurses and its hospitals. Thus while

the woman is still the dominating figure in the home, the center

of gravity of that home so to speak has shifted; and we find the

life that was once that of the home is now that of the community as

well. It is the old process of differentiation from the homogeneous

to the heterogeneous. It is because there is less to do at home that

the children must of economic necessity find their life outside. The

daughter who would once have stayed at home to help with the children

now becomes the public school teacher and helps many children. The

daughter who would once have made the clothes of her sister is now

making the clothes of other sisters at the dressmaker’s or in the

factory.

The entrance of women into industry is an act of necessity. Women

have in the beginning gone to work in factories and in shops and in

all occupations outside the home, not from choice but because the

industrial revolution has so altered the conditions of life that

such a departure from the home was rendered inevitable. Woman has

entered industry half-heartedly. She is not work-conscious as she is

home-conscious. The old home tradition remains with her as a powerful

sentiment. Her interest is the home. She expects to return to a home

life of her own. Industrial work is a mere interlude. It is this work

interlude that is so fraught with danger from the very fact that it

is a makeshift. It is still unrelated to the deepest conscious or

unconscious purpose of the girl.

When we say the New York working girl whom do we mean? We mean to a

certain extent the American girl, _i. e._, the girl who has drifted to

New York from up state or from other states. Such girls are homeless

here. The difficulty is not the inadequacy of home life, but its

absolute lack. For these girls some substitute must be provided. But

the great bulk of girls in industry in New York are not American, but

Irish, Jewish, and last of all, Italian. Taken as a whole, it cannot

be said that the Irish girl’s entrance into industry has corrupted her

as a woman. Surrounded by temptation, keenly enjoying pleasure, the

Irish girl yet possesses that combination of reserve, good taste and

self-possession that protects her more surely than any mere parental

inhibition. But in addition to the protection of the family, she enjoys

the aid of religion, which constantly inculcates the preservation of

purity. The Irish girl is a religious girl, a devoted Catholic. Ever

before her is a picture of the ideal woman, Mary the Mother of God.

“Holy Mary Mother of God pray for us sinners now and in the hour of

death,” is said daily by thousands of Irish girls before they go to

work and before they lie down to sleep. Mechanical as this may often

be, it is a mental habit as strong as a physical habit. And habits

serve as a prop to the will when stress comes. It would be near the

truth to say that whatever the reason,--Catholic training, native

chastity, an inborn sense of restraint and good taste, or all these

together, Irish girls form but a small element of the group of women

workers in danger of corruption.

This danger is more intimately connected with Jewish and Italian girls.

The Jewish girl comes from a protected and highly developed family

life. She also has been brought up in a great traditional religion as

her spiritual environment. But the orthodox Jewish religion, though

fundamentally social in character, is often apperceived as merely a

racial custom. The Jewish ideas of the family and of religion are

so intimately connected that the child who is ceasing to be held by

one will not be held by the other. In this respect there is a great

difference between the Catholic and the Jew. The Catholic girl thinks

of her religion as greater than anything else, including the family;

the Jewish girl thinks of her religion as part of her family life, to

stand or fall together with it. Moreover, though in both religions man

is priest--in one as head of the church and in the other as head of

the family--yet in the Jewish religion there is nothing corresponding

to that devotion to the Virgin which naively and almost hypnotically

involves an unconscious idealism of womanhood. The Jewish girl also,

while perhaps not personally so proud as the Irish, is in many ways

more ambitious and purposive. She desires to have all that the world

offers. This purposive characteristic, so noble if devoted to high

ends, and so dangerous if directed to pleasure alone, is seen more

evidently in the Jewish girl than in any other.

A high purpose saves. Among the prostitutes of this city, I doubt

if you can find one who is either a revolutionist, a socialist, a

Zionist, a good trade unionist, or an ardent suffragist. Most of

those poor girls are they who in their innocent natural desire for

pleasure, unchecked by high enthusiasm for anything else, are finally

dragged down to a terrible payment for the pleasures they so normally

demand. Why is it that among the Jewish girls who have gone wrong we

find no socialists, no revolutionists, no trade unionists? Obviously

because devotion to a cause gives rise to a consuming self-respect.

The compelling power of a great cause brings the same results as the

sanctions of religion. A cause that becomes a passion ennobles one.

Personal indulgence is obliterated and pleasure becomes identified

with devotion to this cause or is incidental to it. We cannot expect

that all working girls will be drawn to any of these particular

causes which I have enumerated, but some spiritual interest they must

have--something bigger than themselves and their own pleasures.

With the Italian girl just now beginning to enter industry in large

numbers the situation again is different. Though Catholic, she seems

not to have the purposive character in her religious life that marks

the Irish girl. Religion is not so full of conscious meaning for her.

In her home life she has thus far been and still is probably the most

carefully chaperoned girl in America. From the protection of her father

she goes straight to that of her husband. Never standing on her own

feet, she fails to develop that independence without which as mother

she loses control of her children, to their serious loss. They refuse

obedience to her authority. But now at last this charming girl who has

hitherto known only the controlled existence of the home is leaving

it for the uncontrolled life of that larger world which she enters as

industrial worker. How is she to learn to feel safe in this bigger

world when her parents and her brothers do not think her so? She can

never feel safe until she is safe, and she will not be safe until she

learns the self-reliance and independence that come from the double

security bestowed by some large spiritual enthusiasm and by economic

independence. The old-fashioned girl living and working exclusively in

the home was safe in a negative way. She was safe because she had no

opportunity for anything but safety. This negative safely breaks down

when one leaves the home. Safety in the larger world is secured only

by some positive force that enables a girl to prefer the higher to

the lower. These positive safeguards are, as we have seen, of various

kinds; they are religion, or socialism, or trade unionism, or any

compelling form of social or political development. They all involve

an individual direct relationship between the girl and her desire. She

is a person with her own hopes. She is freed from entanglements. She

attains a purity very different from that feeble inhibited negative

thing which comes from outward protection alone.

But there is another side to this question. It is nonsense to suppose

that any spiritual enthusiasm, no matter how powerful, will be adequate

to protect the girl whose wage it is impossible to live on. I take it

for granted that this economic aspect of the case is clear to everyone.

It is silly, not to say criminal, for us to suppose that girls are

going to starve or go without decent clothes or deprive themselves of

all pleasures because they cannot pay their own way. There will be

cases of heroism always. I think now of a poor little restaurant-worker

friend of mine, who with $4 a week with two meals a day pays for room

and clothing and yet keeps straight, though with never a penny for any

kind of pleasure. All honor to her, but no credit to us that we allow

such strain. Thousands of girls are living in New York, on less than a

living wage, not eating enough, not having proper room or clothing and

yet keeping straight. But others--and these too are doubtless in the

thousands--are too normal to deprive themselves of their rights in the

world. Their perfectly innocent love of pleasure becomes transmuted

through gradual corrupting relationships into a life of degradation.

Inextricably bound together in the life of the young girl are her

impulses and her ideals. Free play for both and training for both are

demanded for the flowering of her womanhood. To grow, to play, to have

friends, to make love, are all normal elements that go to make up the

life of the young. Not only is pleasure their right but it is a racial

necessity. In the old home the family life itself was the center of

all the social gatherings, or if social pleasures were to be found

elsewhere it was in other affiliated homes, so that in that network of

home life a sort of tribal pleasure was developed where free play to

all these youthful emotions could be granted. But in the life of the

great city the young girl can find little within the narrow confines

of her crowded home to hold her ardent attention. In the midst of the

ever-intensifying excitement with which she is surrounded she can

find nothing appealing enough to attract her interest except those

great congregate forms of enjoyment which center about the dance hall,

the theater and the brilliant amusement resort. These commercialized

pleasure places are far lighter, airier and more beautiful than any

small home can be. They represent roominess, freedom, grandeur, all of

which appeal to the blossoming passion of the young. There is something

almost terrible in the careless way in which society both indulges and

neglects the young girl. The over-stimulation of all this excitement

is dangerous enough in itself but when coupled with so little that

safeguards the ardor of youth it forms an appeal almost impossible of

resistance. And these pleasures cannot be had for nothing. Where the

girls cannot pay their cost, there are attendant circumstances which

turn the natural channels of joy into debasement. The young men of

the big cities today are not gallantly paying the way of these girls

for nothing. Though the price may not be that which leads to despair,

it often involves a lowering of the finer instinct and a gradual

deterioration of the appreciation of personal purity which is one of

the most beautiful flowers of civilization. The fathers and mothers

of this great army of girls in industry can no longer furnish the

pleasures the girls want. If then they seek them outside the home, the

community itself must become the foster father and mother.

Already our communities are seeing that girls like boys must be trained

for the industry which they are bound to enter. There is a pestilential

group among us composed of those people who are insistent that the

working classes should be taught “useful” things. All of us who live

in settlements know this kind of person only too well. “Do you teach

cooking? Do you teach sewing?” they ask. In these things perhaps they

will take an interest, but a class for dancing or preparation for a

play or an evening’s sing, such persons will regard as frills and not

“useful” work. As if there were anything more useful than helping to

create a social atmosphere congenial enough to hold a girl’s interest!

For it is from such a sympathetic background that enthusiasms spring.

Pleasures are necessary and the community must take the place of

the old home by protecting the young in their pleasures and by

offering them such pleasures as shall enrich rather than debase

the emotional and spiritual life. Dance halls properly controlled,

clean cheap theaters, amusement resorts freed from the harpies that

too frequently gather there--all these are necessary in a program

of social adjustment. A living wage is also essential. But beyond

these the girl at work, like all women of every class, must develop

a deep self-respect, a regard for herself as an industrial worker, a

conviction that she is responsible for the conditions under which she

works, a desire to control these conditions through such social or

political means as are adequate for that end. She must not take the

apologetic position, “I have to go to work,” but rather the proud point

of view, “As a worker I am a responsible person with a social purpose.”

The woman movement has sometimes been interpreted by rich women

as giving them the privilege of doing what they like and by the

respectable middle class as furnishing a means of dignifying leisure.

Among working women, however, it has made little headway. I say this

realizing that there are thousands of whom this is not true. But the

working woman in New York, as I have said, still retains the tradition

of home life as her most cherished sentiment, expecting to return from

industry to a home of her own. And the very beauty and power of this

old ideal obscures the fact that the home of the future must be strong

enough to stand all the strain to which in the nature of the case

it will be subjected. To stand its ground it needs not the negative

submission of dependents, but the co-operation of strong independent

individuals. The new working woman’s movement when under way will have

within it certain sounder elements than the movement among middle-class

and wealthy women. For in industry one learns promptness, order and

adaptation to ends--in other words, efficiency. Bringing back this

business sense into the home and enlarging it by those spiritual

enthusiasms which give a sense of roominess and freedom, no matter

what one’s daily task may be, the working woman, when once this new

social adjustment has been made, will be a new kind of new woman in

whose consciousness the destinies of home, industry and society will

be seen as fused into one. Her duties toward society and toward the

home will be seen to be indissolubly connected. And when her children

are born she will see to it that the old negative protection of the

home shall be supplemented by the positive elements of protection,

the chief of which is the flame of a positive enthusiasm. But this

desirable end, this real social adjustment, will not take place unless

society is prepared to adopt a practical program embodying these three

elements--proper opportunities for pleasure, a living wage and the

cultivation of independence, self-respect and idealism.

FOOTNOTES:

[40] A paper presented at the meeting of the Academy of Political

Science, December 4, 1909.

MARRIED WOMEN IN INDUSTRY

FLORENCE KELLEY

General Secretary, National Consumers’ League

Throughout all history married women have carried on productive

industry, feeding and clothing the race. And in that coöperative

commonwealth which some of us hope to see, they will undoubtedly again

participate largely and beneficently in the industrial work of the

community.

It is perfectly easy to conceive of a prosperous village in New England

or the state of Washington, with coöperative intensive culture of

gardens and orchards, with coöperative dairy, laundry, bakery, store

and workshops. In such a village the high school might well have as

its adjunct a nursery where the oldest girls could learn the art of

caring for babies and little children, as the normal school of today

has its kindergarten and primary classes for the benefit alike of the

children and the teachers in training. The citizens of such a village

would obviously be highly enlightened folk, and might be expected to

limit their working day to four, five, or six hours. Given these easily

conceivable conditions, the industrial work of mothers of children as

young as one year might perhaps be an asset for every one concerned.

It is, indeed, one serious charge in the indictment against the present

competitive organization of industry that the industrial employment

of married women to-day does harm and only harm. With the increasing

industrial work of married women in our competitive industry comes

increase in the number of children who are never born. In industrial

centers, the world over, wherever records are kept, the decreasing

birth rate manifests itself. Where this is due to drugs or surgery it

is of the gravest social significance. Childless working wives are a

permanently demoralizing influence for husbands. If these are inclined

to idleness they can idle the more because the wives work. However

disposed to hard work the men may be, the presence in the market of a

throng of unorganized and irregular workers (and married women are

both more unorganized and more irregular than others) presses upon the

wage rate of men. Whether the wife leaves home to work in cotton mill

or laundry, or whether she stays at home working under the sweating

system, she suffers the disadvantage of carrying the double burden and

enduring the twofold strain of home maker and wage earner. And she

presses upon the wage scale of her competitors as the subsidized or

presumably subsidized worker must always do.

Aside from childless wives, married women wage earners consist of

deserted mothers, widowed mothers and women who have both children and

husband. All these are ordinarily subsidized workers, the deserted

and widowed receiving charitable relief, and the women with husbands

having, at least in the theory which underlies their wages, some

support from them.

The heaviest strain of all falls upon the wife who has husband and

children and is still herself a wage earner; for she has usually

child-bearing as well as wage-earning duties. Even where her wage

earning is due to the husband’s tuberculosis, or epilepsy, or other

disability, this does not ordinarily end the growth in number of mouths

for which the industrially working mother attempts to provide.

Here and there, even in the great cities, an exceptional woman may

be found who has endured to middle life, or even longer, this double

strain, and has brought up children creditable in every way. Such rare

women are usually immigrants of peasant stock, fresh from rural life in

the old country, and merely serve, exceptions as they are, to prove the

rule.

Whether the wage-earning mother leaves home, or brings her work into

the home, her children pay the penalty. If she is away, they are upon

the street or locked into their rooms. From the street to the court

is but a short step. From the locked room to the grave has been for

unknown thousands of children a step almost as short, many having

been burned and others reduced by the long intervals between feedings

to that exhaustion in which any disease is fatal. Most dangerous of

all to the young victims of their mothers’ absence, are the unskilled

ministrations of older sisters, those hapless little girls ironically

known as “little mothers.” These keep neither the babies nor the

nursing bottles clean; nor do they keep the milk cool and shielded from

flies. They have no regular hours for feeding or naps. They let the

baby fall, or tumble down stairs with it. And in all the cruel process

their own backs grow crooked and they are robbed of school life and of

the care-free hours of play. Even where the mother does her industrial

work at home, the older girl suffers from the delegated care of the

younger children, and there is a strong tendency for the dwelling to

be dirty and neglected, and for all the children to be pressed into

service at the earliest possible moment, at cost of school attendance

and of play.

Homework, which is peculiarly the domain of married women, forces

rents up, because the worker must be near the factory. This promotes

congestion of population, to the advantage of no one but the landowner.

Even the employer is injured by the presence in the market of a body of

homeworking women. By their cheapness he is tempted to defer installing

the newest machines and most up-to-date methods. Enlightened employers

who do make such provision have competing against them the parasite

employers who drag out an incompetent existence because they can extort

from their homeworking employes the contribution to their running

expenses of rent, heat, light and cleaning.

In the employment of married women, as in all other industrial evils,

it is ultimately the whole community which pays. Whether the children

die before or after birth, the moral tone of the population suffers

and hearts are hardened by acquiescence in cruelty and law breaking.

Whether the surviving children (by reason of their mother’s absence or

her neglect in her overwrought and harassed presence) become invalids

or criminals, they do not suffer without sending in their bill to the

community which tolerates their sufferings. In the growth of vice,

crime and inefficiency, and in the spread of communicable disease,

consciously or unconsciously, the whole community pays its bill to the

children whom it has deprived of their mothers.

In this country we do not know the number of wage-earning mothers

either at home or elsewhere. Our records, official and unofficial,

are as defective in this regard as in all others. We cherish a general

impression, as pleasing as it is erroneous, that the old usage persists

under which, in the early days of the republic, the father commonly

maintained his family until the children had had some share of school

life, and thereafter father and children supported the mother.

In the textile and needle trades, however, even this tradition never

prevailed, and of late a contingent of the washerwomen of yore seem to

have moved bodily into the steam laundries of today.

Now cities which are centers of the textile industry are, and for sixty

years notoriously have been, the centers also of the labor of women

and children, of infant mortality, tuberculosis, immorality and drink.

This was the thesis of Friedrich Engels’ volume on _The Condition of

the Working Class in England in 1844_. Even today in Saxon Chemnitz and

in New England Fall River, wage-earning mothers away from their homes

and children are a characteristic and sorrowful feature of the dominant

local industry.

A perverse element in the problem, which would be humorous if it were

not tragic, is the encouragement persistently given by philanthropists

to the wage-earning labor of married women. Day nurseries, charity

kindergartens, charity sewing rooms, doles of home sewing, cash relief

contingent upon the recipient’s taking whatever work she may be

offered, are all still in vogue in the year 1910.

The economic position of women · 第 7 / 17 段