Elizabeth Cady Stanton



Elizabeth Cady Stanton


I was once called the most dangerous woman in America because I dared to
ask for the unthinkable- the right to vote. I challenged my culture\'s basic
assumptions about men and women, and dedicated my life to the pursuit of equal
rights for all women. My name is Elizabeth Cady Stanton.
I was born in Johnstown, New York, on the 12th of November, 1815. My
father is the prominent attorney and judge Daniel Cady and my mother is Margaret
Livingston Cady. I was born the seventh child and middle daughter. Although my
mother gave birth to eleven children- five boys and six girls- six of her
children died. Only one of my brothers survived to adulthood, and he died
unexpectedly when he was twenty. At ten years old, my childhood was shadowed by
my father\'s grief. I can still recall going into the large darkened parlor to
see my brother and finding the casket and my father by his side, pale and
immovable. As he took notice of me, I climbed upon his knee. He sighed and
said, " Oh my daughter, I wish you were a boy!" I threw my arms around his neck
and replied that I will try my hardest to be all my brother was.
I was determined to be courageous, to ride horses and play chess, and
study such manly subjects as Latin, Greek, mathematics, and philosophy. I
devoured the books in my father\'s extensive law library and debated the fine
points of the law with his clerks. It was while reading my father\'s law books
that I first discovered the cruelty of the laws regarding women, and I resolved
to get scissors and snip out every unfair law. But my father stopped me,
explaining that only the legislature could change or remove them. This was the
key moment in my career as a women\'s rights reformer.
As I grew older, my intellectual interests and masculine activities
embarrassed my father. He told me they were inappropriate in a young lady,
especially the daughter of a prominent man. I was educated at the Johnstown
Academy until I was 15, and was always the head of my class, even in the higher
levels of mathematics and language, where I was the only girl. But when I
graduated, and wanted to attend Union College- as my brother had done- my father
would not allow it. It was unseemly, he said, for a woman to receive a college
education, for in 1830 no American college or university admitted women.
Instead, my father enrolled me in Emma Willard\'s Female Academy in Troy, New
York. Although I learned a great deal at the academy, I objected to the
principle of single sex education and felt it was artificial and unnatural. I
believed knowledge had no sex.
I graduated in 1833 and returned to my parent\'s home, and this is when
I entered the world of reform. While visiting my cousin, Gerrit Smith (the
abolitionist) in Peterboro, New York, I met with all kinds of reformers. There,
too, I met the man I was to marry- Henry Stanton, a renowned abolitionist
speaker and journalist. My marriage to Henry, who was 10 years older than me,
marked an important turning point in my life, especially since my father
objected to my choice. He strongly disagreed with Henry\'s radical politics, and
tried to discourage me, but I was stubborn. So, on May 1, 1840, we got married
in my parents home in Johnstown. On the wedding day, we both agreed (although
the minister objected) to remove the word "obey" from my vows. I refused to
obey someone with whom I was entering an equal relationship. We honeymooned in
London where Henry combined business with pleasure and attended the World Anti-
Slavery Convention. It was in London that I met Lucretia Mott, when both of us
were banished from the convention because of our gender. We resolved the keep
in touch when we returned to America, but eight years passed before this
happened.
Meanwhile, after Henry and I returned to the United States, Henry gave
up the lecture circuit and studied law with my father to support our growing
family. I had given birth to three sons in four years, and bore seven children
in all, five sons and two daughters. This colored everything that I did, for I
was either pregnant or nursing or both during the formative years of the women\'s
movement. One result was that I learned to use my pen instead of my presence.
A second result was that Susan Anthony spent so much time at