This
coming woman is no joke,
Tho’ for that, jokers use her;
But
never, since she came to light,
Have I sought to abuse her.
I
say by all means let her come,
And let her be full mannish;
The
sooner she is let alone,
The sooner she will vanish.
June
20, ‘95
Pub.
in Boston
Courier,
Dec. 15,
‘95
THE NEW WOMAN.
Address Given by Mrs.
Winona Branch Sawyer, Class of '71, at Reunion, June 5, 1895.
There
is a prevailing impression that a new woman is abroad in the land. We no longer
hear of the coming woman, for the new woman is here, and everyone knows it. The
questions at once arise, Who is she? What is she? Whence did she come? Why is
she here?
The
temptation is almost irresistible to draw on the imagination and lend some
color to a picture which needs no exaggeration, so eagerly is that one listened
to, who can tell something about her. Inquirers cannot go to the fountain head
itself, for her essence is not centralized. There is no doubt however of her
existence. She meets us on every page of literature. She peers at us out of the
most grotesque caricatures. She is the target for every shaft of wit and
sentiment. She is the spice of banquets and the text of sermons. In short she
is the Alpha and Omega in the alphabet of human life. But though jeers and
taunts and ridicule be done away with, the new woman is not thereby eliminated.
Though distorted, misrepresented and antagonized in public, she is so absolute,
so real, that whether desired or dreaded, she appears in as varied forms as a
kaleidoscopic vision, an inciter to reform, a participant in municipal affairs,
a factor in economics, as philanthropist, as daughter, sister, wife.
She
is neither old nor young, she may be married or single, handsome or plain,
wealthy or poor. She is independent in her choice of avocation, and punctilious
in her thorough preparation for duty. She cares more for a preponderance of
convolutions in her brain than embroidered ruffles on her garments or for the
size of her sleeves. She arrogates to herself no supremacy, and desires to be rated
only according to her merit. She does not look backward, gloating over her
progress, but forward with courage for new acquisitions.
Masculine
anxiety attributes many idiosyncrasies to the new woman without obtaining her
endorsement as to facts. According to the testimony of one she is about to
discard her time-honored draperies and adopt his ungraceful attire. Another
harps upon her political aspirations, and her craving for the privilege of
supplanting man in every sphere of life from a seat in Congress to the
captaincy of a ball team. A third arraigns her for coveting contracts in public
affairs, as the sale of bonds and cleaning streets, monopolizing the municipal
housekeeping, and relegating men to home keeping and cradle king, and one even
claims to have discovered in her possession a revised version of the pentateuch
containing the declaration that Adam was the rib. Let humorists and
caricaturists have their fun.
Let
men jest and quibble as they may, this one fact remains, "Women are not as
they used to be." A spirit like that which appeared at Runnymeade, which
freed the slaves and manumitted serfs, which has overthrown despotisms and
written constitutions, swept away class legislation and abolished caste, is
abroad in the land. It is not a new force. Its essential element is the energy
of individual life. Out of the widespread educational advantages offered to
woman and accepted by her, has come the natural unrest and impatience of
restraint, which is inseparable from a consciousness of power. It requires only
a short mental review to appreciate how thoroughly and perfectly this country
is organized for woman's work. Women are everywhere alert and active, aroused
to every call and effort to help bring about an improved condition of affairs,
intellectually, morally and politically. And the woman of this transition
period, the leader in this revolt is the new woman.
A
few months ago, a man sold his farm for $40,000. His wife refused to sign the
deed, as her reason for the refusal she said, "I think I ought to be given
something out of all this money." The attorney and her husband inquired
how much she wanted. She replied, "I think I ought to have as much as
$2." This pitiful sum was paid her, and she signed the deed. Her husband
pocketed the $39,998 without a protest on her part.
It
requires no word painting to emphasize the pathos of such an incident. There is
much talk in these days about the "revolt of woman," and determined
by incidents like this, it is time there were revolts. But revolt against whom?
Rebellion against what authority? Insurrection against what power? What law
gave this husband such authority over his wife, his equal in society and almost
his equal as a citizen?
The
unwritten law of her consent.
What
power forged the shackles of her bondage?
That
tyrant custom, which has "power to almost change the stamp of
nature."
Who
fixed the monetary value of her life's work at $2?
Woman
herself.
Liberty
must be preceded by a consciousness of injustice and an intelligent revolt
against it. It is not sufficient that there exists a consciousness of something
wrong, a sensation of discomfort, a conviction of unfairness, the consciousness
and sensation, and conviction must contain the active principle of an internal
force sufficient to counteract external ills. The suffering must be acute
enough to cause some effort to relieve the pain. One who fixes the
recompense and requital for forty years of toil and responsibility at the
paltry sum of $2, has suffered only $2 worth during those forty years. This fact
does not exonerate the husband from one iota of culpability. She submitted for
forty years to a servile life, and for forty years he permitted it. The moral
is contained in the fact that she herself established the ratio of 2 to 39,998.
For
forty years as wife and mother she had worked early and late, doing her share
of the farm-work rearing children, nursing them through illness, rising first
in the morning and being the last to seek her bed at night; had washed and
ironed and scrubbed and sewed and mended, and as a compensation for all this,
she asked as her share of the fortune which her economy and industry had helped
create, $2.
It
is true her husband had given her shelter, food and clothing, all of the
necessaries and some of the comforts of life. Yet of their accumulated surplus,
$40,000, she was satisfied with $2.
This
request to sign a paper was probably the first time it had dawned upon her mind
that she as an individual was a rational being, endowed with the power of free
will. This was probably her first hint that the law gave her liberty to express
her prejudices and preferences. Her husband had never asked her opinion, nor
sought her permission in any of his transactions, and her own opinions were too
puerile and undetermined to seek expression.
It
is useless to argue that she was afraid of her husband; "duty hath no
place for fear," "fear always springs from ignorance." That she
knew nothing of the value of money she certainly knew much of that which is the
equivalent of purchase money, viz., labor. That she was ignorant of her rights,
privileges and power-—it is just that knowledge which makes a distinction
between man and the brute creation.
"The lamb, thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
Had he thy reason would he skip and play?
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,
And licks the hand just raised to shed his
blood."
This
woman should be neither blamed nor censured for her ignorance. It was her
misfortune not her fault. Her mother before her had doubtless given the example
of patient, silent servitude, and her environments were bounded by the same
horizon. She knew no other world. There might have been concealed under the
mark of stolid obedience, some sparks of rebellion or despair, but who sounds
an alarm for a smouldering fire which shows neither smoke nor flame.
This
incident is an extreme case, it is to be hoped without a duplicate, but it
illustrates the type of servitude against which the new woman is inaugurating a
revolt.
At
the present time there is no occasion for revolt against legislation. Women can
do and accomplish what they choose to do, and all for which they fit themselves.
No laws are actually enforced which work any hardships to woman since property
laws and those affecting domestic relations have been modified. The new woman
asks no special or class legislation, nor has she occasion to revolt against
industrial, educational or social conditions. Every avocation and profession is
now open to her. She must submit to the same laws of competition. supply and
demand as man. She must travel through the same cycles of evolution that he has
traversed. She must specialize and sacrifice just as he has done, and in a few
years discrimination in the labor market will be determined exclusively by
ability and fitness. She now shares in schools and universities the advantages
offered to man in the lines of advanced education. Man is eager to accord to
her a deep and lasting respect for the faithful discharge of responsibilities.
She asserts an authority which he does not dispute in the sphere called home.
She is infinitely helpful, as an instructor by her enlarged education which he
does not grudge, and when she raps at the door of professions and avocations,
he does not withhold congratulations. Yet with all the advantages of
legislation, education and avocation there is still something lacking.
There
is in womankind, an inertia, a matter-of-course submission, born of established
usages and unwritten laws for which the new woman seeks a counteracting force.
There
are women, and not a few, who believe that universal suffrage will accomplish
this purpose. That in the folds of the ballot is concealed a talisman having
power to work transmutations, to impart life to indifference and inactivity.
Another
portion, no less in numbers, fail to accredit such potency to the ballot. A
mustard plaster even of as ample dimensions as an Australian ballot will not
raise a loaf of bread, not even if applied at a ratio of 16 to 1. The admixture
of a very small quantity of yeast, will in a few hours leaven the whole lump.
No one believes the ballot will deter woman from rising, but many doubt the drastic
power of outward applications, without an internal vitalizing impulse. To them
there is something repugnant in soliciting credentials, asking rights, claiming
suffrage and demanding admittance. They hope to accomplish the same end in a
different way, by working from within, developing latent powers, building even
on slender foundations a broad true culture, so that woman will be invited to
positions of trust, and offered rights so long withheld. The new
woman has discovered that in the discontent of woman lies the impulse to
overcome her inertia. Impelled by this in pulse she has inaugurated a
tremendous revolt against unwritten laws, laws of customs, restrictions,
environments, laws which neither say "thou shalt," nor "thou
shalt not," laws which operate like a hypnotic trance, the subject being
unconscious of individual ability or power, laws which cannot be corn piled in
statute books any more than can the laws of influence.
This
revolt implies no usurpation. Woman cannot fill man's place any better than man
can fill woman's place. It is not even necessary for her to establish an
ability to do the same kind of work that man has done.
The
two distinct forces, the centripetal and centrifugal, acting together, produce
a resultant which is described by a perfect circle. The predominance or
usurpation of either force would annihilate the universe. Each supplements the
other, performs what the other could not do—-each complements the other,
supplies that, without which neither would be complete.
In
seating a public hall, checks are sometimes duplicated. No such blunders occur
in issuing of checks for our appointed spheres in life. Each is to fill a place
which some one else is not filling, or which may be reserved by legitimate
competition. Nor does this revolt imply a commotion and turmoil. The silent
force of gravity moves more machinery than all the earthquakes and volcanic
eruptions combined. So woman's fitness and ability is a surer force to persuade
men to seek her will, than mandates and decrees.
This
revolt is manifested in a widespread and unanimous desire, not for the
agitation of woman's rights, not for the hastening of woman's suffrage, not for
the adoption of dress reform, nor any other specialty but a universal desire
for facilities for generating thought, methods for strengthening force,
abilities to form opinions, opportunities for expressing opinions, glimpses of
social, economic and ethical questions which exist within the broader horizon
of man's life, development of faculties which would otherwise remain dormant,
directing reading into useful channels, filling gaps and strengthening weak
places in education.
The
success and impetus of this craving for a larger life, broader culture and its
influence upon woman has exceeded the most sanguine hopes.
Women
to-day have many fold more responsibilities than their grandmothers, and I know
the placid old ladies by the fireside, in snowy caps and sober garb, would
second the motion to grant different and greater preparation to meet and
discharge these increased responsibilities.
This
desire is both the cause and the solution of the uprising, called Woman's
Clubs. It has been gathering force for a long time. It has suddenly and
spontaneously burst into bloom like a century plant. But the plant that has
waited a hundred years for its life's fulfillment, is as truly a symbol of
growth as the morning glory which expands its petals to greet the dawn, and
that which is attained by the slower process of years is more lasting than the
iridescent dream of a night.
Its
growth was characterized by a quiescence like that of the chrysalis during the
formative period of that life which, when sufficiently matured, bursts its cell
and enters a new atmosphere, fresh, keen, and full of sunlight.
As
sunlight kills many noxious germs, so the atmosphere of this club-life destroys
the germs of ignorance, narrowness, over-sensitiveness, lack of
self-confidence, sentimentality; it disintegrates cliques and classes, it melts
the cold reserve of formality, it thaws the ice of indifference, and prejudices
pall into nothingness. It has been demanded by an inward force, and
enthusiastic, womanly ambition, that womankind might be transferred into a
broader life. That by utilizing the helpful agents of common aims, voluntary
co-operation, and the strength of union, they might secure a better
understanding of their duties.
Woman
is not losing thereby her sweetness and gentleness, she is losing lines of
anxiety and care from her face. In the glorious sunshine of a broader world,
she forgets her wail of discontent to join the refrain, "Who labors alone
wears the crown."
From
the first, Women's Clubs have differed in aim and utility from those for men,
to whom they signify a place for rest, ease or recreation; for women they imply
a source of inspiration, a place for work. They make women better talkers,
better listeners, better hostesses, better guests, better companions. better
mothers. They make no one discontented, except in a noble way in which it is an
honor to feel discontent. She whose mind is broadened by contact with the
world, knows better how to keep the wheels of her domestic machinery oiled,
than the woman who never goes outside the round of daily duties. She learns to
manage her household with the same kind of business sagacity that her husband
uses in his calling.
The
club movement which is the new woman's exponent is a sign of progress, because
it is an effort to satisfy wants. A savage, having nothing, is perfectly
content so long as he wants nothing. The first step toward civilization is to
create a want, and the effort made to satisfy that want is the measure of
progress. The evidence of intellectual progress is not in the fact that a man
has a library. but that he wants one. In the wonderful leveling down of
barriers during the last few years, woman's horizon has marvelously expanded.
There has been a prodigious multiplication of her wants and club activity
measures her desire to supply those wants.
The
club woman is a bee not a butterfly. The bee and the butterfly may bask in the
same sunshine, may extract sweets from the same flower. One exists only the
satisfaction or enjoyment of the present—-the other garners and carries home a
surplus for future use. The woman who attends the club with no other motive
than to while away a pleasant hour, only smells of a feast without eating of
it. She who does not carry home some bit of information, some inspiration, some
material to be incorporated into the tissues of home life, to beautify or to
strengthen, loses a higher pleasure than entertainment.
Thousands
of women will endorse the expression of that woman who declared, "This is
the busiest world I ever lived in." With the multiplicity of duties which
confront each one of us, obligations which "wait and will not go away,
wait and will not be gainsaid," it is utterly impossible for any one to
keep up with the whole busy world, with nations, rulers, statesmen, scientists,
inventors and writers racing, rustling and jostling each other like the denizens
of an ant-hill, and herein lies the secret of mutual help.
Turning
from the past and present-—what of the future? Ignorance and narrowness being
vanquished by the club scheme of the new woman, against what other sentiment
shall revolt be instituted?
The
new woman has announced that something ought to be done to eradicate the
erroneous idea that the proper thing to do is to depreciate and minify the
duties of home. Domestic life is a profession just as truly as medicine,
journalism and law, and it is a profession which in truth requires a more
liberal preparation than any other.
There
are misfits in every profession, and home making is not an exception to the
rule. We have heard of men proving a failure in the law who might have been
excellent machinists, of others who stumbled into the pulpit, but might have
served their fellow men better as professors, others have attempted to pound
ideas into brains, but would have elicited more sparks from an anvil. There are
too many homes whose comforts are dispensed from a hand-me-down counter, but it
will be found that the home maker who is mistress of her profession, possesses
an unlimited education, quite as much executive ability, judgment and
discrimination as is needed in the so-called wage earning professions, and her
holdings in these lines frequently rival the tenure of her husband.
The
mother with her infantile disputants, must exercise as great aptness and
discrimination as the judge on the bench. She requires as great fertility of
resource and attention to details as the petitioner at the bar. In the
oversight of procuring needed supplies and the manufacture of raw materials
into food, clothing and comforts for the family, she exercises a greater
versatility, superintends the working of a larger number of machinery, turns
out an infinitely larger variety of products than any manufactory or laboratory
in the world.
The
head of a mammoth iron establishment admits that he knows comparatively nothing
of fabrics, silk, linen, cotton and wool, he is not a connoisseur of china or
furniture, he is not a judge of leather and its manufactured forms, he is not
versed in the unwritten lore of food products; but the home maker must know
something of all trades and professions, from hats to hams, from mirrors to
carpet tacks, from laces to door mats, from pottery to pills and from edibles
to bric-a-brac.
Besides
this materialistic knowledge she is expected to know something of poetry,
history, fiction, music and art; must be versed in the newest ideas of science,
know more nostrums than the family doctor, answer theological questions which
puzzle the preacher, and so on, ad infinitum. The only wonder is that one
head can contain it all. The ludicrous experiences of the husband who exchanged
places for one day with his wife is no impossibility.
It
fails of recent confirmation simply because the husbands of to-day are too
shrewd to be caught in such a trap.
Truly
home making is a profession without a rival. All others dwindle into
respectable "second best."
Because
so much of this department of woman's work is "far from the maddening
crowd," because her full returns are not immediate, because her books
cannot be balanced until the generation which follows her has audited the
accounts, because it is not so prominent as important, not so brilliant as
inspiring, not so showy as divine; woman herself has permitted it to be called
drudgery. The home maker has without protest permitted a $2 estimate of her
profession, and let clerks, saleswomen, dressmakers, milliners and type-writers
pocket the $39,998 worth of praise to which she has an equal right.
Let
us hope that the present agitation of thought and the opportunity for getting a
good square look at things as they really are, will teach home makers to place
a fair estimate upon themselves.
Some
other hobgoblins which the new woman seeks to expose to the light of reform
(and correctly named hobgoblins, because as soon as confronted they vanish),
are these, an over-sensitiveness, a lack of self-confidence, a sentimentality
of feeling rather than reason, a preference to imitate rather than initiate.
These
are legacies for which woman is not responsible for the inheritance,
though she may be amenable for continued possession. If a man finds himself the
possessor of a box of fleas, the bequest of an eccentric relative, he is not
thereby compelled to keep and propagate them as heirlooms in the family.
She
who has for ages lived in her home as a nun in a cloister, who has studied no
translation of the world except the expurgated condition which custom and
tradition has vouchsafed her, is in the renaissance of a new day, like a blind
person suddenly restored to sight. He has no idea of perspective. He will put
his hand on the window to touch the tree across the street; will shrink back
lest the passing vehicles run over him; will hesitate to step over a crack in
the floor. Woman has been so long accustomed to retirement, to avoiding
criticism, to feeling her way, that it takes time for her to acquire
confidence. She must encourage the culture of definite ideas, learn to focus
thoughts and concentrate effort, not to expend ten pounds of flutter for each
pound of result, nor drape a dollar's worth of words on a nickle idea.
The
new woman has also found a screw loose in the machinery of social conditions.
It is undeniable that men as a class prefer clinging, to independent women. The
doll-like society girl has a dozen offers of marriage when her self-reliant
sister has but one. May not this be equally true, that the majority of men
recognize the fact, that the woman who has gained strength and breadth of
character, who is no longer a child or plaything, demands of the man she would
marry an equivalent in exchange, that he shall himself keep the law of conduct
he lays down for her, that for her to be proud of him, he must first be proud
of himself.
This
we know to be true, that woman of strong individuality have made happy homes
and served their families with great fidelity, while those of the vine-like
type do not always make model house-keepers, nor raise the best behaved
children.
We
do not hear much of the "new man" but he is evolving side by side
with the ." new woman" and it is the silent influence of the latter
which gauges the standard and measures the progress of the former. Imperfect as
he may be in his present condition, the new woman has no thought of undertaking
his complete elimination from the scheme of creation. If he cannot keep up with
her pace, he deserves to be left behind. But he will keep up—-and try to
deserve her—-thus the best result of the new woman will be the new man. He will
see as never before that home encircling a noble and excellent womanhood—-is
the safeguard of a nation. However no one expects him to be as interesting a
novelty as the "new woman."
Much
has been said and written concerning the ideal woman. The new woman does not
profess to be the ideal but she has an ideal.
Poets
from the days of Homer have sung of beauty as the chief characteristic and
charm of ideal woman.
It
is quite comforting to the majority of women to know that physical beauty seems
of little importance to the masculine mind of the present century. One
connoisseur says she is like a rose. With the rose you can tell by every
indication of its health, strength and beauty that it is from one of the finest
strains of roses, and that all the conditions of its development have been as
nearly perfect as they could be made. So with the ideal woman, one knows by
every look and word and by the subtle charm of thought unexpressed, that she
has developed as perfectly as the rose.
Another
critic asserts that there is no definite ideal of womanhood. Our age is so
generous it discards the Grecian measurements and symmetry between nose,
forehead, mouth and chin. It matters not whether her hair be black, brown or
auburn. She may permit it to hang loose or pile it up in a psyche knot. She may
have the soft black eye of a gazelle or the squint of an Ellen Terry. Her ear
and hand were better free from jewelry, she might compromise on a ring and
necklace if she would let the ear go unmutilated, but it is indispensable that
a soul adorn her face.
She
must be a scholar, a thinker and a talker, possess eternal good humor and
plenty of sense. A noted conversationalist decides that the ideal woman must
possess the tact to keep conversation going about her, but must not herself be
a great talker. She must never let those about her know all that she knows, but
keep them in doubt as to her mental resources.
Some
extol physical strength and courage, some have no leisure to discuss a theme so
axiomatic as an ideal woman. Some fearlessly relegate her throne to the kitchen
and the nursery and brand her as an intruder and tresspasser if she cross the
limits of those domains, some generously accord her a place in affairs of state
and municipal government, if she so desire, but for their own part think she is
happier in the home, and the ideal woman must be the happiest woman.
Some
aver that the ideal woman will exist only in an ideal society which condition
of that state called the millennium, an altruria of which poets and reformers
dream. That she would be out of place in the fierce competition of to-day, in
the life and death struggle in which so few miserably succeed, and the masses
patiently suffer.
A
word artist paints as his ideal, not a statuesque Juno, not a voluptious Venus,
not a sedate Minerva, not an unfettered Diana, but a home angel, crowned by a
halo of motherhood. One man has found a living ideal, "twenty-two
years ago I met her," he said. She was good-looking, not handsome, with a
voice soothing and yet inspiring in its very tenderness. She was reserved, discreet,
and fully capable of governing herself under all circumstances. Her mind was
alert and bright, above all cruel jests, and fully appreciative of her home
duties. She has cheerfully and willingly shared adversity and accepted
prosperity. Her heart was always pure and free from selfishness, her love has
been most loyal, her friendship unswerving. My ideal, perhaps is high, but she
is a loving reality, and though the inevitable has changed her dark hair to
beautiful silver gray, her other charming attributes remain and she is still my
ideal, my wife!
The
ideal of the new woman is a composite portrait which embodies the ideal of the
rose, the aesthetic soul, the physical courage, the fearless sovereign, the
symbol of happiness, the fireside queen, the home angel, the living flesh and
blood companion.
Her
ideal is not one who abnormally develops only one of the trinity of mind, heart
and body. Not that one who dwells in the highest empyrean of intellect, who
pities you that you have not read Ibsen and Dante and Browning, who laments
lest you may never attain her lofty plane.
Not
that one who is a devotee to charity and benevolence, who founds hospitals for
four-footed animals and feathered bipeds, but has no leisure for children, nor
kind words for those in the humbler walks of life, not that one who is an
extremist in physical development, who drapes herself in garments fearfully and
wonderfully made, who bends and gyrates through 600 distinct exercises,
invented for the development of 600 different muscles of the body. But she is
the symmetrical woman who fearlessly and intelligently decides upon what she
can best do, and does it, performing such duties becomingly and well, and
enjoying the life which opens before her. She asserts no legal claim to a place
for which she knows she has no equitable title. She transforms minute
irritating duties of every-day life, into gems for her own coronet, even as the
oyster converts grains of sand to shining pearls. She sees before her a large
and beautiful career of trying to make it harder for people to do wrong and
easier for them to do right. She is prepared to take her place in society
wherever her influence can help brighten the lives of those around her. She has
an excellent recipe for happiness, to cultivate hopeful, cheerful spirits and
enjoy things as they are.
Her
idea of power is not a landscape illumined with gay uniforms of a vast standing
army, but the wealth and power she covets is in the light from myriad happy
homes all over the land. The real new woman, is not the creation of newspaper
paragraphs and caricaturists, the embodiment of fads and foibles, but is so
much like the sensible wives, mothers and daughters of the homes we have known
and honored all our lives; that she is not always recognized because she
preserves her womanhood. There is no radical change in her nature and never can
be, by an awakened interest in the real things of the world, the problems as
well as the beauties, she makes herself more indispensable, more reliable, more
powerful. She brings her case before the tribunal of the public for
adjudication. It is an action entitled, Sense vs. Folly--Reason vs.
Prejudice—-Dolls vs. Brains.
Open
wide every door of opportunity and development. And the woman who chooses the
duties of wife and mother, the home maker, let her not demean her calling, and
her sisters in other avocations, let them not like Niobe of old, enjoying the
divinity of her life, deride with jingles of "pots and pans, cradles and
tubs, butchers and bakers, maids and dress-makers," lest the punishment of
Niobe fall on them.
Leaving
to women the perfect freedom of choice and development in the sphere of duty
will not result in domestic desolation.
So
long as man is man, and woman woman, the old, old story will never go out of
print. The throne of the fireside queen will not be vacant, and baby will be
king. Romeos and Juliets will never die, the wife will be the loving and
beloved companion, faithful unto death. And motherhood will ever be Cornelia
and her Jewels.
The
twentieth century with its cleaner purposes, its higher endeavor, its limitless
opportunities welcomes the real new woman.
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