FAILURE IS IMPOSSIBLE

© Rev. Joy Atkinson 2009
Mission Peak Unitarian Universalist Congregation
February 15, 2009

In the 1780s, as John Adams worked with the other founding fathers to hammer out a constitution for our new nation, Adams' wife Abigail mildly implored her husband to think about women's place in the new society. "Remember the ladies, " she said. The framers of the Constitution set for themselves the task of guaranteeing that the fundamental rights of representative democracy and equality under the law would be granted to all - to all free men, that is. The framers did not remember the ladies, as Abigail wished, nor did they remember the slaves. Neither was able to take part in this new government. To vote, one had to be white, male, over 21, and propertied.

When Susan B. Anthony was born, on February 15, 1820, 189 years ago today, only about 15 percent of the United States population could vote under these restrictions. Slaves had no rights at the time, and women had very few. Women's education and entry into professions was restricted and rare. They could not sue or be sued in a court of law. They could not serve on juries. They couldn't own property. Women were legal non-persons - the property of their fathers and husbands. Women who did work, often under squalid factory conditions along with their children for 12-hour days, were paid far less than men were for the same labor, and their earnings became the legal property of their husbands. A woman didn't even inherit her husband's money upon his death; instead, it went to his nearest male relative.

Although in the prevailing attitude of the time, women had little more status than slaves did, in the environment immediately surrounding the young Susan B. Anthony, women were treated with more respect. Susan was born into an activist Quaker family in Adams, Massachusetts. Among the Quakers, women could speak out as the spirit moved them, as did the men. Susan's father, Daniel, was a pacifist, a temperance worker and an abolitionist. He was part owner and manager for a while of a mill, and he resolutely paid the black workers there the same as the whites. Daniel Anthony refused to pay taxes to a government engaged in war and supportive of slavery. Each year, when the tax collector came around, he would serve him a meal, and then place open his wallet on the table, saying, "I shall not voluntarily pay these taxes, but if thee wants to rifle my pocketbook, thee can do so." Like other Quakers, Daniel believed in education for all his children, the girls as well as the boys. He mortgaged his farm so that Susan could attend Quaker schools in Philadelphia. Susan was eager for education, and she was convinced early on of the abilities of women. She once told a non-Quaker friend, Aaron McLean, that she had taught herself algebra. McLean, who was just then enjoying her homemade cream biscuits, said. "I'd rather see a woman make biscuits like these than solve the knottiest problems in algebra." Susan retorted, "There is no reason why a woman should not be able to do both. Can you?"

By age 15, Susan was living away from home, at New Rochelle, New York, earning a living and helping to support her family by teaching. She kept herself busy in addition to teaching with domestic chores and Quaker activities, as is clear from her diary. One entry reads: "Did a large washing today... baked 21 loaves of bread ... wove 3 yds of carpet..." And then she continues, "The people here [in New Rochelle] are anti abolitionist and anti everything else that's good. [They] raised quite a fuss about a colored man sitting in meetinghouse, and some left on account of it... what a lack of Christianity is this!"

In her late twenties, Susan returned to live with her family, which had relocated to a farm near Rochester, New York. The family soon discovered that the Quakers in the area were bitterly split over the slavery issue, so the Anthonys joined the radically abolitionist Unitarian Church, where Susan remained active throughout her life. In Rochester, Susan often had to take charge of the family farm, because her mother was ill, her father away on business, and her siblings were also away. At this stage in her life, she was restless, as her diaries indicate, looking for an outlet for her considerable talents and energies besides teaching. Here is an excerpt from her diary:

Tried to interest myself in a sewing society...Attended Progressive Friends' meeting; too much namby-pamby-ism...Quilted all day, but sewing seems to be no longer my calling...I stained and varnished the library bookcase today, and superintended the plowing of the orchard...The last load of hay is in the barn; all in capital order. Fitted out a fugitive slave for Canada with the help of Harriet Tubman...The teachers' convention was small and dull. The woman's committee failed to report. I am mortified to death for them...Washed every window in the house today. Put a quilted petticoat in the frame. Commenced reading Mrs. Browning's Portuguese Sonnets...one of her poems is so fitting for our struggle... I wish the government would move quickly and proclaim freedom to every slave. How not to do it seems the whole study of Washington. To forever blot out slavery is the only possible compensation for this merciless war.

A hush fell over the gathering of 500, and after hesitating, the moderator condescended to let her speak briefly:

"Do you not understand, gentlemen, that so long as society says a woman is incompetent to be a lawyer, doctor or minister, but has ample ability to be a teacher, every man among you tacitly acknowledges that he has no more brains than a woman! If you would respect your profession, then respect those who work with you, the majority of whom are women! Why are there no provisions made for female lecturers before this association, or officers, and why are ladies not appointed to committees."

After a stunned silence, there was an uproar from the men that a woman should be so bold. The chairman responded that he would hate to see the fairer sex degraded by having to serve actively in the organization.

At age 29, the restless Susan had not yet been enlisted to the cause of equality for women. Instead, in her growing weariness with teaching, she decided to devote herself to the one social cause that fully welcomed women: temperance. In the 1840s, drinking had become a serious social problem. Hard alcohol often appeared on the family breakfast table, as well as at dinner, and doctors liberally prescribed it for both adults and children. Workers often received their wages in whiskey, and people on the job took rum breaks, the forerunner of coffee breaks. Women were often the ultimate victims of rampant alcoholism, since they had no legal recourse against husbands who spent all their earnings on alcohol, letting their families go hungry.

Susan's devotion to the temperance cause soon lead to an active advocacy of the abolition of slavery, since temperance workers and abolitionists often moved in the same circles. Though some abolitionists were hesitant about having women speak for their cause, preferring to have them working the background arranging refreshments, Susan eventually found her voice, and went on the lecture circuit. She traveled from state to state, speaking, selling tracts and raising money. She crisscrossed New York State many times, to lecture in almost every town and village. One winter she gave 157 speeches and sold 22,000 tracts. Her words came straight from the heart:

" Let the North prove to the South by her acts that she fully recognizes the humanity of the black man, that she respects his rights in all her educational, industrial, social, and political associations. What arrogance in us to put the question, what shall we do with a race of men and women who have fed, clothed, and supported both themselves and their oppressors for centuries...Treat the Negroes as you did the Irish, the Scotch, and the Germans! Educate them to all the blessings of our free institutions, to our schools and churches, to every department of industry, trade, and art."

Susan's interest in women's rights had been steadily growing since she heard reports of the first women's rights convention in Seneca Falls in 1848, where Elizabeth Cady Stanton called for women's suffrage publicly for the first time. Susan soon discovered that many of the male abolitionists with whom she worked were not so eager to extend equality as far as to include women. In 1850, the Seneca Falls Convention re-gathered at the Rochester Unitarian Church, and suffragist Elizabeth Cady Stanton was present, although Susan B. Anthony was not. But Susan heard the story of how a clergyman at the meeting denounced Elizabeth Cady Stanton for speaking publicly, saying that the Apostle Paul advised women to be silent, and asking, "Why did she not mind him?" People told Susan of Elizabeth's snappy retort: "The Apostle Paul also advises that ministers be celibate, and why did he not mind him?" Susan decided that she would like to meet this woman whose tongue was as sharp as her own. They worked together for the rest of their lives, for the abolition of black slavery, for which they were physically attacked on lecture tours, and for the abolition of female slavery, trying to secure for women the vote, their inheritance rights and the right to possession of their own wages. The relationship of Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton was one of the most famous and productive friendships in history.

During and immediately following the Civil War, the differences among abolitionists on the question of women's rights were temporarily suspended, as both joined to assist in the Union's efforts. Abolitionist leaders had asked that women's suffragists put off their cause for a while, lest it imperil the cause of freedom for slaves. But the war came and went, and the promised support for women's suffrage was not forthcoming. Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth cady Stanton refused to wait. They organized the American Equal Rights Association to try to convince abolitionists and radicals that the cause for black equality should be expanded to include women's equality. The debate focused around the campaign to frame the 14th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which provided that former Confederate States, in order to be readmitted to the Union, had to grant the vote to blacks or have their congressional representation cut. The Amendment specified that all male citizens would be counted as the basis for representation, and when the Equal Rights Association tried to petition to have the word "male" removed, they couldn't even get a hearing. Then, when the 15th Amendment was being debated, the amendment that took the voting decision away from the states and granted it to all men, the Equal Rights Association again tried to petition. The amendment read: "The right of the citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of race, color or previous condition of servitude." The Equal Rights Association tried to have the word "sex" inserted, but to no avail.

The women were refused permission to address Congress on the question of whether the current law could be construed as granting women the right to vote, as Susan insisted it could. Equal Rights Association members were finally allowed, at least, to speak to the Senate Judiciary Committee, and Susan was chosen to conclude the remarks:

"When the Fourteenth Amendment was first proposed to Congress, we rushed to you with petitions praying you not to insert the word 'male' in the second clause. Our best friends on the floor of Congress said to us: 'The insertion of that word puts up no new barrier against women; therefore do not embarrass us but wait until we get the Negro question settled.' So the Fourteenth Amendment with the word "male" was adopted.

Then, when the Fifteenth was presented without the word 'sex,' we again petitioned and protested, and again our friends declared that the absence of that word was no hindrance to us, and again begged us to wait until they had finished the work of the war. 'After we have enfranchised the Negro we will take up your case.' Have they done as they promised? When we came asking protection under the new guarantees of the Constitution, the same men say to us that our only plan is to wait the action of Congress and State legislatures in the adoption of a Sixteenth Amendment which shall make null and void the word 'male' in the Fifteenth. Such tantalizing treatment imposed upon yourselves or any class of men would have caused rebellion and in the end a bloody revolution. It is only the close relations existing between the sexes which have prevented any such result from this injustice to women."

Since Susan B. Anthony believed that the right to vote was already granted by the constitution in spite of the word "male," she decided to vote. As the 1872 election approached, she went down to the voting registrar at the local barbershop and requested that he register her. Though the stunned and embarrassed man refused at first, he finally, reluctantly, gave in, after Susan assured him that she would take responsibility for any lawsuit or charges. On November 5th, she cast her vote, along with a small group of other women in New York and around the country. The act became national news, and Susan was both praised and cursed widely. The hometown paper labeled the event an act of "female lawlessness," while the New York Times declared that "the act of Susan B. Anthony should have a place in history."

Two weeks after her voting, a U.S. Deputy Marshal appeared at Susan's door with papers for her arrest. He accompanied her, since she refused to go voluntarily, to the commissioner's office. She was freed during the months preceding her trial to travel and speak within the country, and she took this opportunity to explain publicly why she claimed the right to vote:

"Friends and fellow citizens: I stand before you under indictment for the alleged crime of having voted at the last presidential election, without having a lawful right to vote. It shall be my work this evening to prove to you that in thus doing, I not only committed no crime, but instead simply exercised my citizen's right, guaranteed to me and all United States citizens by the National Constitution beyond the power of any State to deny...

It was we, the people, not we, the white male citizen, nor we, the male citizens; but we, the whole people, who formed this Union. We formed it not to give the blessings of liberty but to secure them; not to the half of ourselves and the half of our posterity, but to the whole people, women as well as men. It is downright mockery to talk to women of their enjoyment of the blessings of liberty while they are denied the only means of securing them provided by this democratic-republican government - the ballot...

It is urged that the use of the masculine pronouns he, his and him in all the constitutions and laws, is proof that only men were meant to be included in their provisions. If you insist on this version of the letter of the law, we shall insist that you be consistent and accept the other horn of the dilemma, which would compel you to exempt women from taxation for the support of the government and from penalties for the violation of laws. There is no she or her or hers in the tax laws, and this is equally true of all the criminal laws."

Susan was found guilty of voting without having the legal right to do so. A fine of $100 was imposed, which she refused to pay. It was never collected, and the judge let her go free rather than hold her until the fine was paid, lest she appeal to the Supreme Court on the grounds that she did not have the benefit of a jury.

Susan B. Anthony lived to the ripe old age of 86, and yet, astonishingly, she never in her lifetime had the pleasure of seeing women go to the polls legally in a national election to vote. Although blacks could finally vote in 1867, it took until 1920 for women to get the vote - 14 years after Susan died.

On Susan's 86th birthday, February 15th, 1906, friends arranged a birthday celebration in Washington D.C. at the Universalist Church, following a day of Appeals to congressional committees made by representatives of the National Suffrage Association. Susan was very weak and frail, but she was reluctant to disappoint her friends, so she came to Washington with a skilled nurse. When Susan entered the hall, the audience stood up and remained standing until she was seated. Then a seemingly endless stream of congressman offered greetings and commendations for her long work for the cause of women's equality. Finally, Susan could contain herself no longer. She got up to the front of this stage, and exclaimed, "When will the men do something besides extend congratulations? I would rather have President Roosevelt say one word to Congress in favor of amending the Constitution to give women the suffrage, then to praise me endlessly!" The audience burst into a resounding applause. At the end of the evening, she rose again, and began to thank the many women who had worked by her side, and, realizing her strength was waning, she said, "There have been others also just as true and devoted to the cause. I wish I could name every one - but with such women consecrating their lives," she paused, then exclaimed, "failure is impossible!"

Those were her last public words. Susan B. Anthony died on March 13th, less than a month later. On the last afternoon of her life, the Rev. Anna Howard Shaw, a Methodist minister who stayed with her through her death, reported that she had begun to speak the names of the many women she had known and worked with. After finishing this litany, she lay in silence, and then she said to Anna, "They are still passing before me - face after face, hundreds and hundreds of them, representing all the efforts of 50 years. I know how hard they have worked. I know the sacrifices they have made. But it has all been worthwhile!"

I have an epilogue today. It is a letter to my personal hero:

Dear Susan B. Anthony, the Mother of Us All.

It may seem strange to call you "the mother of us all," since you never married, nor had children of your own, although you found many occasions to serve as Mother to the many children of your feminist sisters when they needed a break. Actually, it was Gertrude Stein who called you "the Mother of Us All" - it's the title of an opera by Virgil Thomson that Stein wrote the libretto for. The opera is about you. Also, the poet Edwin Markham wrote a long poem just after your death, titled "Song to the Divine Mother: Written to the Glory of Susan B. Anthony." And your friends spoke of you in maternal terms as they remembered your caring for others and your dedication to the cause of women's equality. So please forgive me if I echo them all in calling you "the Mother of Us All." You were, and are, the mother of the cause of women's suffrage and equality. It was largely due to your tireless efforts that we finally got the right to vote. You were a model of dedication for those who knew you personally, and you continue to be for those of us who try to carry the torch you lit over a century ago.

There is a new battlefront today. We have the vote, we've got property and inheritance rights, but there are still obstacles and inequalities. Women still on average make less for comparable work than men do, and many women still suffer from incidents of abuse, rape, and domestic violence. There are still predominant ideals and images of manhood and womanhood that oppress both sexes. As you did with the suffrage issue, we have tried to secure a guarantee of equality under the law, through an amendment to the U.S. constitution. We fought a long battle for ratification of this amendment three decades ago, and we lost. But if we have learned anything from your life, from the example you have set, it is that what we struggle toward today lays the groundwork for that which may come to completion beyond our own lifetimes. So, we will not give up. We will continue to work in our own time against the sexism that still exists in our society, economically, culturally, and occupationally. If we persist, then, as you said, "failure is impossible." Thank you for your inspiration.

Sincerely, one of your children

P.S I know you aren't fond of praise, but I can't resist telling you how thrilled I was to see a real woman's image, your face, appear on an American coin some years ago, on a silver dollar!

Benediction: Two quotes by Susan B. Anthony

"The older I get, the greater power I seem to have to help the world. I am like a snowball - the further I am rolled the more I gain."

"Men their rights, and nothing more.
Women their rights, and nothing less."

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