You can tell it’s Shark Week when I start crying whilst reading about Lucy Stone.
But fucking hell, guys, she did some amazing things.
Leave women, then, to find their sphere. And do not tell us before we are born even, that our province is to cook dinners, darn stockings, and sew on buttons. We are told woman has all the rights she wants; and even women, I am ashamed to say, tell us so. They mistake the politeness of men for rights—seats while men stand in this hall to-night, and their adulations; but these are mere courtesies. We want rights. The flour-merchant, the house-builder, and the postman charge us no less on account of our sex; but when we endeavor to earn money to pay all these, then, indeed, we find the difference.
The last speaker alluded to this movement as being that of a few disappointed women. From the first years to which my memory stretches, I have been a disappointed woman. When, with my brothers, I reached forth after the sources of knowledge, I was reproved with “It isn’t fit for you; it doesn’t belong to women.” […] I was disappointed when I came to seek a profession worthy an immortal being—every employment was closed to me, except those of the teacher, the seamstress, and the housekeeper. In education, in marriage, in religion, in everything, disappointment is the lot of woman.
When a world’s convention of any kind is called—when the Rev. Drs. Chambers, Hewett, Marsh, and I don’t know how many more, backed up by a part of those who were in that convention, are ready to ignore the existence of woman, it should show us something of the amount of labor we have to do, to teach the world even to know that we are a part of it…