Carrie Chapman Catt - Diaries, Palestine, November 15 - December 15, 1911 (Box 1, Folder 3)

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Diaries of Carrie Chapman Catt, a noted leader in the woman suffrage movement, written during a trip around the world.

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We hear annually in Albany of the 'great silent majority' of women who do not want to vote. On a recent visit to Palestine, these words continually repeated themselves in my mind, as we met hundreds of the women of the country, completely shrouded in black and with figured veils over their faces. They moved through the streets silently, noiselessly by like ghosts from the tomb. How did these women look, what are they thinking, are they content? I kept asking myself. I had just read a paper which had been presented in London by a notable Mohammedan, who had emphasized the statement that the women of his people were 'happy and contented'. They liked secluded lives best and made no effort to escape from their present environment because they were so very satisfied, he had repeated again and again. This apparently was his apology to the Western world, for the position of the women of the East. Fortunately we were introduced to some of these women and had the opportunity of speaking with them face to face. Our first call was with the wife of a gentleman who for sixteen years had been Mayor of Jerusalem. The family stand as among the best in the city and is known as 'progressive'.

Last edit over 3 years ago by lutholtz
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The hostess received us in a large drawing room, furnished in oriental taste, but displaying Western influence. The walls were outlined in rows of divans covered with yellow and striped red satin, and European chairs covered with the same material were scattered about. The walls were hung with embroideries and tapestries and beautiful rugs covered the floor. The lady herself must have been a 'ravishing beauty' in her youth and even now at forty five was an exceedingly handsome woman. Her little, tapering hands would have enchanted an artist. She was clad in European dress and her manners were gentle, well-bred, self possessed. She might have stepped from a New York parlor into a suffrage meeting and no observer would have discovered anything unusual about her. It was difficult to think of her as an Arab. I asked through the interpreter, for she spoke Arabic only, if there was any movement...

Last edit over 3 years ago by lutholtz
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in Palestine to secure a better position for women. Her reply was significant. 'I think so, but the changes come very slowly. In my mother's day, it would have been thought a shame for a woman to mention any subject to her husband which was apart from her household duties, and no man would have thought of talking with his wife of other things. Now, my husband brings the newspapers home and reads them to the family, explaining what is difficult to understand, and all the children ask questions and discuss political questions freely. My mother could not read, but it did not matter. I also cannot read or write, but my whole life has been made wretched by the fact and many an hour have I shed tears over it. My daughter, sixteen years old, has always been in school and reads and speaks fluently Arabic, Turkish, French, English, and Italian.' She brought us a family photograph presenting the father and the children, but it was a motherless group since a Moslem woman does not show her face. Conspicous in the group was the daughter, a beautiful, bright, intelligent girl. She was then nine years...

Last edit over 3 years ago by lutholtz
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...old and the next day she donned the veil. The mother mentioned this fact rather sadly, so I asked if there was any movement to remove the veils. 'There are certainly many women who do not like to wear them and think the custom a bad one, but the men will not hear patiently of taking them off. No man is willing that the women of his house shall be the first to do it. I am sure I shall never see the day when they are not worn, but my daughter is rebellious and declares she will not consent to wear heres all her life. This lady is known as Immousa - the Mother of Moses. Women do not take their husband's names. A woman is known as the daughter of (the father's name being given) until they are married and have given birth to a son. If she has no son, she never changes her name. Daughters are not worth consulting. After Turkish coffee and preserves were served, as is invariably done when calls are made, we took our leave. Our next visit was at the house of a middle class family. Several sons were married and with their families occupied rooms in the house - one family to a room.

Last edit over 3 years ago by lutholtz
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It was a filthy, ill-smelling, unventilated street, and we were glad to learn how the people lived in the houses which looked out upon it. We found the rooms spotlessly clean. All were similarly furnished. On one side was a long divan upon which visitors were invited to sit. Along their walls were long cushions, about four inches thick and upon these the family sat with crossed legs. Soft rugs were upon the floor and in a corner a large pile was covered neatly with a clean, embroidered white cloth. This, it was explained, was the the bedding which was spread upon the floor at night. In one room, the father, mother and seven children lived and slept. The only article of what we should call furniture was a much used cradle which held a babe in swaddling robes. A string of beads and miscellaneous small articles hung over the head and had the important mission of keeping off 'the evil eye'. In this house a daughter-in-law had been a pupil in an American mission school and spoke English...

Last edit over 3 years ago by lutholtz
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