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Change italics to quotes for terms
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mitchelljacobs committed May 31, 2020
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<p>“If the people had come after us according to the directions we left, there’d have been quite a different story!” said Terry. We found out later why no reserve party had arrived. All our careful directions had been destroyed in a fire. We might have all died there and no one at home have ever known our whereabouts.</p>
<p>Terry was under guard now, all the time, known as unsafe, convicted of what was to them an unpardonable sin.</p>
<p>He laughed at their chill horror. “Parcel of old maids!” he called them. “They’re all old maids⁠—children or not. They don’t know the first thing about Sex.”</p>
<p>When Terry said <i>Sex</i>, <i>sex</i> with a very large S, he meant the male sex, naturally; its special values, its profound conviction of being “the life force,” its cheerful ignoring of the true life process, and its interpretation of the other sex solely from its own point of view.</p>
<p>When Terry said Sex,” “sex with a very large <i epub:type="z3998:grapheme">S</i>, he meant the male sex, naturally; its special values, its profound conviction of being “the life force,” its cheerful ignoring of the true life process, and its interpretation of the other sex solely from its own point of view.</p>
<p>I had learned to see these things very differently since living with Ellador; and as for Jeff, he was so thoroughly Herlandized that he wasn’t fair to Terry, who fretted sharply in his new restraint.</p>
<p>Moadine, grave and strong, as sadly patient as a mother with a degenerate child, kept steady watch on him, with enough other women close at hand to prevent an outbreak. He had no weapons, and well knew that all his strength was of small avail against those grim, quiet women.</p>
<p>We were allowed to visit him freely, but he had only his room, and a small high-walled garden to walk in, while the preparations for our departure were under way.</p>
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<p>“Oh, yes⁠—I know. It’s like those little tropical islands you’ve told me about, shining like jewels in the big blue sea⁠—I can’t wait to see the sea! The little island may be as perfect as a garden, but you always want to get back to your own big country, don’t you? Even if it is bad in some ways?”</p>
<p>Ellador was more than willing. But the nearer it came to our really going, and to my having to take her back to our “civilization,” after the clean peace and beauty of theirs, the more I began to dread it, and the more I tried to explain.</p>
<p>Of course I had been homesick at first, while we were prisoners, before I had Ellador. And of course I had, at first, rather idealized my country and its ways, in describing it. Also, I had always accepted certain evils as integral parts of our civilization and never dwelt on them at all. Even when I tried to tell her the worst, I never remembered some things⁠—which, when she came to see them, impressed her at once, as they had never impressed me. Now, in my efforts at explanation, I began to see both ways more keenly than I had before; to see the painful defects of my own land, the marvelous gains of this.</p>
<p>In missing men we three visitors had naturally missed the larger part of life, and had unconsciously assumed that they must miss it too. It took me a long time to realize⁠—Terry never did realize⁠—how little it meant to them. When we say <i>men</i>, <i>man</i>, <i>manly</i>, <i>manhood</i>, and all the other masculine derivatives, we have in the background of our minds a huge vague crowded picture of the world and all its activities. To grow up and “be a man,” to “act like a man”⁠—the meaning and connotation is wide indeed. That vast background is full of marching columns of men, of changing lines of men, of long processions of men; of men steering their ships into new seas, exploring unknown mountains, breaking horses, herding cattle, ploughing and sowing and reaping, toiling at the forge and furnace, digging in the mine, building roads and bridges and high cathedrals, managing great businesses, teaching in all the colleges, preaching in all the churches; of men everywhere, doing everything⁠—“the world.”</p>
<p>And when we say <i>Women</i>, we think <i>Female</i>—the sex.</p>
<p>But to these women, in the unbroken sweep of this two-thousand-year-old feminine civilization, the word <i>woman</i> called up all that big background, so far as they had gone in social development; and the word <i>man</i> meant to them only <i>male</i>⁠—the sex.</p>
<p>In missing men we three visitors had naturally missed the larger part of life, and had unconsciously assumed that they must miss it too. It took me a long time to realize⁠—Terry never did realize⁠—how little it meant to them. When we say “men,” “man,” “manly,” “manhood,” and all the other masculine derivatives, we have in the background of our minds a huge vague crowded picture of the world and all its activities. To grow up and “be a man,” to “act like a man”⁠—the meaning and connotation is wide indeed. That vast background is full of marching columns of men, of changing lines of men, of long processions of men; of men steering their ships into new seas, exploring unknown mountains, breaking horses, herding cattle, ploughing and sowing and reaping, toiling at the forge and furnace, digging in the mine, building roads and bridges and high cathedrals, managing great businesses, teaching in all the colleges, preaching in all the churches; of men everywhere, doing everything⁠—“the world.”</p>
<p>And when we say Women,” we think Female—the sex.</p>
<p>But to these women, in the unbroken sweep of this two-thousand-year-old feminine civilization, the word woman called up all that big background, so far as they had gone in social development; and the word man meant to them only male⁠—the sex.</p>
<p>Of course we could <em>tell</em> them that in our world men did everything; but that did not alter the background of their minds. That man, “the male,” did all these things was to them a statement, making no more change in the point of view than was made in ours when we first faced the astounding fact⁠—to us⁠—that in Herland women were “the world.”</p>
<p>We had been living there more than a year. We had learned their limited history, with its straight, smooth, upreaching lines, reaching higher and going faster up to the smooth comfort of their present life. We had learned a little of their psychology, a much wider field than the history, but here we could not follow so readily. We were now well used to seeing women not as females but as people; people of all sorts, doing every kind of work.</p>
<p>This outbreak of Terry’s, and the strong reaction against it, gave us a new light on their genuine femininity. This was given me with great clearness by both Ellador and Somel. The feeling was the same⁠—sick revulsion and horror, such as would be felt at some climactic blasphemy.</p>
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<p>“How low⁠—or how high, rather?”</p>
<p>“Well⁠—there are some rather high forms of insect life in which it occurs. Parthenogenesis, we call it⁠—that means virgin birth.”</p>
<p>She could not follow him.</p>
<p><i>Birth</i>, we know, of course; but what is <i>virgin</i>?”</p>
<p>Terry looked uncomfortable, but Jeff met the question quite calmly. “Among mating animals, the term <i>virgin</i> is applied to the female who has not mated,” he answered.</p>
<p> ‘Birth,’ we know, of course; but what is virgin?”</p>
<p>Terry looked uncomfortable, but Jeff met the question quite calmly. “Among mating animals, the term virgin is applied to the female who has not mated,” he answered.</p>
<p>“Oh, I see. And does it apply to the male also? Or is there a different term for him?”</p>
<p>He passed this over rather hurriedly, saying that the same term would apply, but was seldom used.</p>
<p>“No?” she said. “But one cannot mate without the other surely. Is not each then⁠—virgin⁠—before mating? And, tell me, have you any forms of life in which there is birth from a father only?”</p>
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<p>But just as a clear-eyed, intelligent, perfectly honest, and well-meaning child will frequently jar one’s self-esteem by innocent questions, so did these women, without the slightest appearance of malice or satire, continually bring up points of discussion which we spent our best efforts in evading.</p>
<p>Now that we were fairly proficient in their language, had read a lot about their history, and had given them the general outlines of ours, they were able to press their questions closer.</p>
<p>So when Jeff admitted the number of “women wage earners” we had, they instantly asked for the total population, for the proportion of adult women, and found that there were but twenty million or so at the outside.</p>
<p>“Then at least a third of your women are⁠—what is it you call them⁠—wage earners? And they are all <i>poor</i>. What is <i>poor</i>, exactly?”</p>
<p>“Then at least a third of your women are⁠—what is it you call them⁠—wage earners? And they are all poor.’ What is poor,’ exactly?”</p>
<p>“Ours is the best country in the world as to poverty,” Terry told them. “We do not have the wretched paupers and beggars of the older countries, I assure you. Why, European visitors tell us, we don’t know what poverty is.”</p>
<p>“Neither do we,” answered Zava. “Won’t you tell us?”</p>
<p>Terry put it up to me, saying I was the sociologist, and I explained that the laws of nature require a struggle for existence, and that in the struggle the fittest survive, and the unfit perish. In our economic struggle, I continued, there was always plenty of opportunity for the fittest to reach the top, which they did, in great numbers, particularly in our country; that where there was severe economic pressure the lowest classes of course felt it the worst, and that among the poorest of all the women were driven into the labor market by necessity.</p>
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<p>I ceased to feel a stranger, a prisoner. There was a sense of understanding, of identity, of purpose. We discussed⁠—everything. And, as I traveled farther and farther, exploring the rich, sweet soul of her, my sense of pleasant friendship became but a broad foundation for such height, such breadth, such interlocked combination of feeling as left me fairly blinded with the wonder of it.</p>
<p>As I’ve said, I had never cared very much for women, nor they for me⁠—not Terry-fashion. But this one⁠—</p>
<p>At first I never even thought of her “in that way,” as the girls have it. I had not come to the country with any Turkish-harem intentions, and I was no woman-worshipper like Jeff. I just liked that girl “as a friend,” as we say. That friendship grew like a tree. She was <em>such</em> a good sport! We did all kinds of things together. She taught me games and I taught her games, and we raced and rowed and had all manner of fun, as well as higher comradeship.</p>
<p>Then, as I got on farther, the palace and treasures and snowy mountain ranges opened up. I had never known there could be such a human being. So⁠—great. I don’t mean talented. She was a forester⁠—one of the best⁠—but it was not that gift I mean. When I say <i>great</i>, I mean great⁠—big, all through. If I had known more of those women, as intimately, I should not have found her so unique; but even among them she was noble. Her mother was an Over Mother⁠—and her grandmother, too, I heard later.</p>
<p>Then, as I got on farther, the palace and treasures and snowy mountain ranges opened up. I had never known there could be such a human being. So⁠—great. I don’t mean talented. She was a forester⁠—one of the best⁠—but it was not that gift I mean. When I say great,” I mean great⁠—big, all through. If I had known more of those women, as intimately, I should not have found her so unique; but even among them she was noble. Her mother was an Over Mother⁠—and her grandmother, too, I heard later.</p>
<p>So she told me more and more of her beautiful land; and I told her as much, yes, more than I wanted to, about mine; and we became inseparable. Then this deeper recognition came and grew. I felt my own soul rise and lift its wings, as it were. Life got bigger. It seemed as if I understood⁠—as I never had before⁠—as if I could Do things⁠—as if I too could grow⁠—if she would help me. And then It came⁠—to both of us, all at once.</p>
<p>A still day⁠—on the edge of the world, their world. The two of us, gazing out over the far dim forestland below, talking of heaven and earth and human life, and of my land and other lands and what they needed and what I hoped to do for them⁠—</p>
<p>“If you will help me,” I said.</p>
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<p>We couldn’t do anything with him. He had to take his own medicine.</p>
<p>If the lack of tradition of courtship left us much at sea in our wooing, we found ourselves still more bewildered by lack of tradition of matrimony.</p>
<p>And here again, I have to draw on later experience, and as deep an acquaintance with their culture as I could achieve, to explain the gulfs of difference between us.</p>
<p>Two thousand years of one continuous culture with no men. Back of that, only traditions of the harem. They had no exact analogue for our word <i>home</i>, any more than they had for our Roman-based <i>family</i>.</p>
<p>They loved one another with a practically universal affection, rising to exquisite and unbroken friendships, and broadening to a devotion to their country and people for which our word <i>patriotism</i> is no definition at all.</p>
<p>Two thousand years of one continuous culture with no men. Back of that, only traditions of the harem. They had no exact analogue for our word home,” any more than they had for our Roman-based family.”</p>
<p>They loved one another with a practically universal affection, rising to exquisite and unbroken friendships, and broadening to a devotion to their country and people for which our word patriotism is no definition at all.</p>
<p>Patriotism, red hot, is compatible with the existence of a neglect of national interests, a dishonesty, a cold indifference to the suffering of millions. Patriotism is largely pride, and very largely combativeness. Patriotism generally has a chip on its shoulder.</p>
<p>This country had no other country to measure itself by⁠—save the few poor savages far below, with whom they had no contact.</p>
<p>They loved their country because it was their nursery, playground, and workshop⁠—theirs and their children’s. They were proud of it as a workshop, proud of their record of ever-increasing efficiency; they had made a pleasant garden of it, a very practical little heaven; but most of all they valued it⁠—and here it is hard for us to understand them⁠—as a cultural environment for their children.</p>
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