It's a lovely Saturday for Reading ...

I'm feeling like sharing someone else's words with you, rather than writing my own, today. I have been indulging in one of my favorite lazy-day past-times, reading at random. Today, I have been reading of strong, fierce, wild women and their words. It's been quite a treat, so far. I have been reading books, as well as surfing The Gutenberg Project website especially. Public domain literature is available there for download, printing, or reading online. I indulge frequently, in case you hadn't guessed :).

Here are some highlights from what I've been reading. I came across one of my favorite poems by Maya Angelou, about owning your 'self', as well as a speech given by Sojourner Truth at the Women's Convention (suffrage and equal rights) in Akron, OH in May 29, 1851. To round it off, I am finishing up with Miss Emily Dickinson. I have her collected works (some 1,775 poems). That's a LOT to deal with, so I like to close my eyes and open the text to wherever providence directs me. This morning, I dived in at poem 804 (circa 1863). I'm going to share pieces from the ladies with you, below, after a little of biographical info on each - their pictures are posted next to their works.

• I have had the privilege to have heard Ms. Angelou read 'Phenomenal Woman' in a live venue, but had never read the poem for myself; it's a real shame that is has taken this long for me to do so. For those of you who do not know of Ms. Angelou (nee Marguerite Ann Johnson), she is a Woman in every sense of the word. In her time, she has been author, poet, historian, songwriter, playwright, dancer, stage and screen producer, director, performer, singer, and civil rights activist. In short, she has been everything she wanted to be, and anything she has chosen to be. I admire her greatly. Every women needs to be given this piece to read, preferably before her 14th birthday. It should be made a part of any young woman's rite of passage: Confirmation, Quinceañera, 'coming out', debut, sweet sixteen, whatever. So, I'm reproducing it here - it's my Saturday gift to you all. Enjoy.

• The second piece is in two parts: first, a faithful reproduction of Sojourner Truth's extemporaneous address to the "Women's Convention" given in Akron, OH on May 29, 1851, as recorded by a local newspaperman who worked with Sojourner Truth on the abolitionist cause. The statement has been known historically as the 'And Ain't I a Woman' speech, but that title, the overt antebellum criticism, as well as the slave-talk delivery, were edited into Truth's original speech twelve years later by Frances Dana Barker Gage (contemporary of Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B Anthony), to make it sound more contentious, abolitionist - and southern - in tone and content. In point of fact, Sojourner Truth was born in slavery to the name, Isabella Baumfree, in upstate New York, she spoke only Dutch until age nine, when she was taught 'the king's English'. She attained emancipation in 1827, and only one of her five children was sold into slavery. Ms. Truth spoke out strongly for all women's rights, as well as for abolition, everywhere she went. In her speech to the Women's Convention of 1850, she spoke to the disparities in the way women were treated, based on gender as well as on economics, race, and social class. Mrs. Gage's more widely recognized version of Ms. Truth's speech is included in part 2.

• Last, but not least, we have Miss Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, a deeply shy, private, reclusive woman born to a successful family in Amherst, Massachusetts. She never married, but wrote prolifically of death and immortality, and of observations made from her bedroom window. She lived life by correspondence, rarely having contact with the outside world, the latter being something I can somewhat relate to ... LOL.

Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I'm telling lies.

I say,

It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It's the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

henomenal woman,

That's me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can't touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them

They say they still can't see.

I say,

It's in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Now you understand

Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It's in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,

The need of my care,

'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Sojourner Truth

Original text as reported a month later in the 'Anti-Slavery Bugle' by Marius Robinson, abolitionist and editor; given May 29, 1851.

"I want to say a few words about this matter [Women's Rights]. I am a woman's rights. I have as much muscle as any man, and can do as much work as any man. I have plowed and reaped and husked and chopped and mowed, and can any man do more than that? I have heard much about the sexes being equal. I can carry as much as any man, and can eat as much too, if I can get it. I am as strong as any man that is now. As for intellect, all I can say is, if a woman have a pint, and a man a quart -- why can't she have her little pint full? You need not be afraid to give us our rights for fear we will take too much, -- for we can't take more than our pint'll hold. The poor men seems to be all in confusion, and don't know what to do. Why children, if you have woman's rights, give it to her and you will feel better. You will have your own rights, and they won't be so much trouble. I can't read, but I can hear. I have heard the bible and have learned that Eve caused man to sin. Well, if woman upset the world, do give her a chance to set it right side up again. The Lady has spoken about Jesus, how he never spurned woman from him, and she was right. When Lazarus died, Mary and Martha came to him with faith and love and besought him to raise their brother. And Jesus wept and Lazarus came forth. And how came Jesus into the world? Through God who created him and the woman who bore him. Man, where was your part? But the women are coming up blessed be God and a few of the men are coming up with them. But man is in a tight place, the poor slave is on him, woman is coming on him, he is surely between a hawk and a buzzard."

Sojourner Truth, as reported 12 years later by Frances Dana Barker Gage

Published in Mrs. Gage's collection, 'History of Women's Suffrage', co-edited also by Susan B Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Excerpt reproduced from the public domain copy of Mrs. Gage's 'reminiscence' on the meeting, hosted on The Gutenberg Project: The Project Gutenberg eBook of History of Woman Suffrage, Volume I, Edited by Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and Matilda Joslyn Gage, account beginning on page 115. Quite a contrast in the content, isn't it?

There were very few women in those days who dared to "speak in meeting"; and the august teachers of the people were seemingly getting the better of us, while the boys in the galleries, and the sneerers among the pews, were hugely enjoying the discomfiture, as they supposed, of the "strong-minded." Some of the tender-skinned friends were on the point of losing dignity, and the atmosphere betokened a storm. When, slowly from her seat in the corner rose Sojourner Truth, who, till now, had scarcely lifted her head. "Don't let her speak!" gasped half a dozen in my ear. She moved slowly and solemnly to the front, laid her old bonnet at her feet, and turned her great speaking eyes to me. There was a hissing sound of disapprobation above and below. I rose and announced "Sojourner Truth," and begged the audience to keep silence for a few moments.

The tumult subsided at once, and every eye was fixed on this almost Amazon form, which stood nearly six feet high, head erect, and eyes piercing the upper air like one in a dream. At her first word there was a profound hush. She spoke in deep tones, which, though not loud, reached every ear in the house, and away through the throng at the doors and windows.

"Wall, chilern, whar dar is so much racket dar must be somethin' out o' kilter. I tink dat 'twixt de niggers of de Souf and de womin at de Norf, all talkin' 'bout rights, de white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all dis here talkin' 'bout?

"Dat man ober dar say dat womin needs to be helped into carriages, and lifted ober ditches, and to hab de best place everywhar. Nobody eber helps me into carriage, or ober mud-puddles, or gibs me any best place!" And raising herself to her full height, and her voice to a pitch like rolling thunder, she asked. "And a'n't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! (and she bared her right arm to the shoulder, showing her tremendous muscular power). I have ploughed, and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And a'n't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man—when I could get it—and bear de lash as well! And a'n't, I a woman? I have borne thirteen chilern, and seen 'em mos' all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And a'n't I a woman?

"Den dey talks 'bout dis ting in de head; what dis dey call it?" ("Intellect," whispered some one near.) "Dat's it, honey. What's dat got to do wid womin's rights or nigger's rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yourn holds a quart, wouldn't ye be mean not to let me have my little half-measure full?" And she pointed her significant finger, and sent a keen glance at the minister who had made the argument. The cheering was long and loud.

"Den dat little man in black dar, he say women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wan't a woman! Whar did your Christ come from?" Rolling thunder couldn't have stilled that crowd, as did those deep, wonderful tones, as she stood there with outstretched arms and eyes of fire. Raising her voice still louder, she repeated, "Whar did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothin' to do wid Him." Oh, what a rebuke that was to that little man.

Turning again to another objector, she took up the defense of Mother Eve. I can not follow her through it all. It was pointed, and witty, and solemn; eliciting at almost every sentence deafening applause; and she ended by asserting: "If de fust woman God ever made was strong enough to turn de world upside down all alone, dese women togedder (and she glanced her eye over the platform) ought to be able to turn it back, and get it right side up again! And now dey is asking to do it, de men better let 'em." Long-continued cheering greeted this. "'Bleeged to ye for hearin' on me, and now ole Sojourner han't got nothin' more to say."

Amid roars of applause, she returned to her corner, leaving more than one of us with streaming eyes, and hearts beating with gratitude. She had taken us up in her strong arms and carried us safely over the slough of difficulty turning the whole tide in our favor. I have never in my life seen anything like the magical influence that subdued the mobbish spirit of the day, and turned the sneers and jeers of an excited crowd into notes of respect and admiration. Hundreds rushed up to shake hands with her, and congratulate the glorious old mother, and bid her God-speed on her mission of "testifyin' agin concerning the wickedness of this 'ere people."

Miss Emily Dickinson - poems 804 - 807 from 1863.

#804

No Notice gave She, but a Change --

No Message, but a Sigh --

For Whom, the Time did not suffice

That She should specify.

She was not warm, though Summer shone

Nor scrupulous of cold

Though Rime by Rime, the steady Frost

Upon Her Bosom piled --

Of shrinking ways -- she did not fright

Though all the Village looked --

But held Her gravity aloft --

And met the gaze -- direct --

And when adjusted like a Seed

In careful fitted Ground

Unto the Everlasting Spring

And hindered but a Mound

Her Warm return, if so she chose --

And We -- imploring drew --

Removed our invitation by

As Some She never knew --

#805

This Bauble was preferred of Bees —

By Butterflies admired

At Heavenly — Hopeless Distances —

Was justified of Bird —

Did Noon — enamel — in Herself

Was Summer to a Score

Who only knew of Universe —

It had created Her.

#806

A Planted Life — diversified

With Gold and Silver Pain

To prove the presence of the Ore

In Particles — 'tis when

A Value struggle — it exist —

A Power — will proclaim

Although Annihilation pile

Whole Chaoses on Him —

#807

Expectation — is Contentment —

Gain — Satiety —

But Satiety — Conviction

Of Necessity

Of an Austere trait in Pleasure —

Good, without alarm

Is a too established Fortune —

Danger — deepens Sum —